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God Rest Ye Copland Programmers
(to the tune of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”)
God rest ye Copland programmers,
It’s finally Christmas Day.
You’ve all worked 20-hour shifts
Beginning back in May.
No wonder after such neglect
Your spouses moved away.
The last real meal you had
Was late last year–
That’s what we hear;
And since then you’ve lived on
Pizza, Coke, and beer.
Your bosses change, and change their minds,
Is Copland off or on?
Are last week’s OS plans in place
Or now completely gone?
God rest ye well this Christmas Day,
You’d better sleep in late–
It’s the last sleep you’ll get till ’98.
Isn’t that great?
It’s the last day off you’ll have till ’98!
The Bill Gates Song
(to the tune of “The Christmas Song”)
Netscape roasting on an open fire,
Apple begging on its knees,
Photo popping up on Time magazine,
Yes, Bill Gates dreams of days like these!
Everybody knows he’s never fully satisfied,
Throws himself behind each task,
World dominion is his company’s goal.
Well, hey, is that so much to ask?
He knows the world is in his sway,
We’ll buy whatever software he might toss our way,
We’ll surf his Internet, watch his TV,
He’ll take us anywhere we ask him–for a fee.
And so we’re offering this simple prayer,
To Bill and all his MS grunts:
Since we all follow any standard you write,
Make it good, please,
Make it good, please,
Make it good, please, just once!
Gil Amelio’s Coming to Town!
(to the tune of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town”)
You better watch out,
Absurd as it sounds,
‘Cause Apple’s about
To lose a few pounds–
Gil Amelio’s coming to town!
He’s making a list,
And trimming the rolls
Of projects that missed
Their revenue goals–
Gil Amelio’s coming to town!
He knows what’s losing money,
Like eWorld, PowerTalk . . .
You’d better make your project work
Or prepare to take a walk!
Though you follow his lead
Right out the back door,
You know he’ll succeed–
He’s done it before!
Gil Amelio’s coming to town!
Microsoft
(to the tune of “Jingle Bells”)
Nine-tenths of a gig,
Biggest ever seen,
God, this program’s big–
MS Word 15!
Comes on ten CDs,
And requires–damn!
Word is fine, but jeez–
60 megs of RAM?!
Oh! Microsoft, Microsoft,
Bloatware all the way!
I’ve sat here installing Word
Since breakfast yesterday!
Oh! Microsoft, Microsoft,
Moderation, please.
Guess you hadn’t noticed:
Four-gig drives don’t grow on trees!
I’m Dreaming of a Clean System
(to the tune of “White Christmas”)
I’m dreaming of a clean System,
Something that fits on one CD.
Each component matches,
Not bits and patches,
Unlike 7-5-point-3.
I’m longing for a dream System,
Small, stable, fast, and trouble-free.
What we want, I think you’ll agree,
Is called System 6-point-oh-3!
Violent Night
(to the tune of “Silent Night”)
Silent Mac, broken Mac!
System bombed, screen went black.
Books suggested things; I tried ’em all:
Shift key, desktop file, clean reinstall.
Now my deadline is tight,
This Mac’s been silent all night.
Violent night, horrible night!
Lost my cool, filled with spite,
Threw my Mac through the balcony door
Watched it fall from the 20th floor,
Now I’m sleeping in peace;
Thank God I had it on lease.
Prove It’s So!
(to the tune of “Let It Snow”)
Oh, the papers say Apple’s dying,
But before we start good-byeing,
We should call them all up and go,
“Prove it’s so! Prove it’s so! Prove it’s so!”
They say “Mac OS software’s scarcer.”
We say, “Read those numbers, there, sir,
Sales continued this year to grow.
There ya go, there ya go, there ya go!”
When they tell us Win 95
Made the Mac’s famed advantages ebb,
We’ll say, “Why, then, do Macs now drive
60 percent of the Web?”
We can win our PR reversal–
Make the Mac be universal–
Though we may have some years to go,
Make it so, make it so, make it so!
Happily Addicted to the Web
(to the tune of “Winter Wonderland”)
Doorbell rings, I’m not list’nin’,
From my mouth, drool is glist’nin’,
I’m happy–although
My boss let me go–
Happily addicted to the Web.
All night long, I sit clicking,
Unaware time is ticking,
There’s beard on my cheek,
Same clothes for a week,
Happily addicted to the Web.
Friends come by; they shake me,
Saying, “Yo, man!
Don’t you know tonight’s the senior prom?”
With a listless shrug, I mutter, “No, man;
I just discovered letterman-dot-com!”
I don’t phone, don’t send faxes,
Don’t go out, don’t pay taxes,
Who cares if someday
They drag me away?
I’m happily addicted to the Web!