Twas A Computer Christmas
T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;
But your name and your address (computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly;
My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho",
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
But you won't get anything - that's plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to All," as he pulled out its plug!
(author unknown)
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Night Before Christmas -- Computer Geek
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the nets,
Not a mousie was stirring, not even the pets.
The floppies were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The files were nestled all snug in a folder,
The screen saver turned on, the weather was colder.
And leaving the keyboard along with my mouse,
I turned from the screen to the rest of the house.
When up from the drive there arose such a clatter,
I turned to the screen to see what was the matter.
Away to the mouse I flew like a flash,
Zoomed open a window in fear of a crash.
The glow from the screen on the keyboard below,
Gave an electronic luster to all my macros.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little sleigh icon with eight tiny reindeer.
And a tiny disk driver so SCSI and quick,
I knew in a nano it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than trackballs his cursors they came,
He whistled and shouted and faxed them by name.
"Now Flasher! Now Dasher! Now Raster and Bixel!
On Phosphor! On Photon! On Baudrate and Pixel!
To the top of the stack. To the top of the heap."
Then each little reindeer made a soft beep.
As data that before the wild electrons fly,
When they meet with a node, mount to the drive.
So up to the screentop the cursors they flew,
With a sleigh full of disks and databits, too.
And then in a twinkling I heard the high whine,
Of a modem connecting at a baud rate so fine.
As I gazed at the screen with a puzzling frown,
St. Nicholas logged on though I thought I was down.
He was dressed all in bytes from header to footer,
And the words on the screen said "Don't you reboot 'er."
A bundle of bits he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a programmer starting his hack.
His eyes how they glazed, his hair was so scary,
His cola was jolt, not flavored with cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a GIF,
And the pixels of his beard sure gave me a lift.
The stump of a routine he held tight in his code,
And I knew he had made it past the last node.
He spoke not a word but looked right at me,
And I saw in a flash his file was .SEA.
He self-decompressed and I watched him unfold,
Into a jolly old elf, a sight to behold.
And the whispering sound of my hard drive's head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He went straight to his work without saying a word,
And filled all the folders of this happy nerd.
And 'tis the whole truth, as the story is told,
That giving a nod up the window he scrolled.
He sprang to the serial port as if truly on fire,
And away they all flew down the thin copper wire.
But I heard him exclaim as he scrolled out of sight:
"Happy Christmas to All, and to all a good byte!"
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A Night Before Christmas - Computer
'Twas the night before Christmas,
As I sat before my Mac.
The disk drive had crashed,
I needed to get the project back.
Jordan suggested I
Try and reboot.
But none of my efforts,
would bear any fruit.
After much cussing and swearing,
I admitted defeat.
On another computer,
this job I'd complete.
This job from hell,
I'd start all from scratch.
For the customer who's
impatience none could match.
I heard a crash at the door,
and went to investigate.
There stood a man in red,
who's diameter was five eight.
He pushed his way past me
and sat at my screen.
'Twas the widest man
I had ever seen.
He plugged in three keyboards,
and a big red track ball.
I knew this was something
not possible at all.
He typed, and he kerned,
adjusted leading and tracking.
I tried to stop him,
but a voice was I lacking.
Scanning, outlining, importing and,
Adjusting colors galore.
This man in red was faster
than any I'd seen before.
In one big red blur he finished,
Sending files to print.
I couldn't believe it,
In his eyes was a kind glint.
He gathered his peripherals
All in a big sack.
Gave me a nod,
And didn't look back.
I tried to catch up to him,
but he wouldn't wait.
All I saw were his tail-lights
as he drove past the gate.
I heard him exclaim,
as he sped out of sight.
"Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night."
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http://www.appleseeds.org/twas-night_vers.htm
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RFC968 - Twas the night before start-up
Network Working Group V. Cerf
Request for Comments: 968 MCI
December 1985
'Twas the Night Before Start-up'
STATUS OF THIS MEMO
This memo discusses problems that arise and debugging techniques used
in bringing a new network into operation. Distribution of this memo
is unlimited.
DISCUSSION
Twas the night before start-up and all through the net,
not a packet was moving; no bit nor octet.
The engineers rattled their cards in despair,
hoping a bad chip would blow with a flare.
The salesmen were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of data nets danced in their heads.
And I with my datascope tracings and dumps
prepared for some pretty bad bruises and lumps.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
There stood at the threshold with PC in tow,
An ARPANET hacker, all ready to go.
I could see from the creases that covered his brow,
he'd conquer the crisis confronting him now.
More rapid than eagles, he checked each alarm
and scrutinized each for its potential harm.
On LAPB, on OSI, X.25!
TCP, SNA, V.35!
His eyes were afire with the strength of his gaze;
no bug could hide long; not for hours or days.
A wink of his eye and a twitch of his head,
soon gave me to know I had little to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
fixing a net that had gone plumb berserk;
And laying a finger on one suspect line,
he entered a patch and the net came up fine!
The packets flowed neatly and protocols matched;
the hosts interfaced and shift-registers latched.
He tested the system from Gateway to PAD;
not one bit was dropped; no checksum was bad.
At last he was finished and wearily sighed
and turned to explain why the system had died.
I twisted my fingers and counted to ten;
an off-by-one index had done it again...
Vint Cerf
December 1985
