Hi, Linn-- I enjoyed it, too--& couldn't help catching your name as I sit freezing in the office at Kent House the day after Christmas--I'm the new "Executive Director," and still come across your name in files. Where are you now? Carolyn Breedlove [log in to unmask] rgvmuse wrote: > Staff's greeting visitors, selling last minute gifts, > The cold winds are whistiling, pushing snow into drifts. > I'm the Director, and, yes, I'm working, too, > Time's really fleeting - there's so much to do. > I was phoning, e-mailing (though not entering data) > When my spirits were lifted by Greg's "cyber Santa". > So here's now my wishing, to all and to each: > Good holidays, happiness and, most of all, peace. > > Linn Keller > > Greg Koos wrote: > > > >A Little Byte Music > > >(Virtual St. Entropy, IX) > > > > > >'Twas the night before Christmas, the season of wonder: > > >Not a creature was stirring throughout the rotunda. > > >Far up in the museum, I was feeling *non grata*, > > >Facing my computer and mountains of data. > > > > > >The director had called me and ordered in haste: > > >"All of the data must, pronto, be based!" > > >So alone I keyboarded, in lab coat and cap, > > >Wishing I'd time for a long winter's nap. > > > > > >The stockings were hung by the chimney with care > > >(At least, on my web page, they were virtually there, > > >As was the chimney, as was the heat. > > >A trick of programming, and that's no mean feat) > > > > > >When all of a sudden, there arose such a clatter > > >I opened up Windows, hit ALT-DEL-GRAYMATTER. > > >The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow > > >Looked almost too real to be pixels aglow. > > > > > >When what to my poor red-rimmed eyes filled the screen > > >But a miniature sleigh that could scarcely be seen. > > >With a small animation so jerky and faint > > >I knew it was Nick, the old holiday Saint. > > > > > >More rapid than email his coursers they came, > > >While he gestured (no sound card) and called each by name: > > >"On Fortran*! On SELGEM*! On Taxir* and Cobal*! > > >On C+*, on FOCUS*, we're here to a-MUSE* all!" > > > > > >I tried fast to exit (I could run but not hide!), > > >When down the virtual chimney St. Nick did slide. > > > > > >He was dressed all in red with a boot and reboot; > > >He spoke not (no sound card) but went straight to his loot. > > >From his bag he drew punch cards, a disc like a platter, > > >And an amber-screened monitor with keyboard that clattered. > > > > > >With his 1200 bps modem and those floppy discs > > >I knew I was looking at Second Hand Nick's. > > >And his programming language, so much yadda-yadda > > >I knew if I used it I'd database >nada.< > > > > > >"I can't use these," I whimpered, "they're not worth my per diem." > > >He looked up and mouthed "Well, this IS a museum!" > > >"Please, Santa," I pleaded, "I need automation, > > >How else can I process all this information?" > > > > > >"Not to worry," shrugged Santa, "no need to panic, > > >It's simply a question of applied informatics!" > > >And then, as I watched, both stunned and elated, > > >Like DNA my data were all replicated. > > > > > >Instead of data entry for many long nights > > >Santa soon filled my hard drive with millions of bytes. > > >I knew my director would love it, of course, > > >He coveted data, whatever the source. > > > > > >I leaped to my keyboard to do a report > > >But the whole program crashed with a sudden retort. > > >The hardware was outdated, the software was fried > > >The monitor was flashing "Access Denied." > > >Of all of the data that Santa bestowed, > > >There wasn't a bit of it I could download. > > > > > >Then laying a finger inside of his nose > > >Old Nick sneezed as up the virtual chimney he rose. > > >He leaped to his sleigh, to his team gave a chuckle > > >And then they were gone--boot, belt, and buckle. > > >But I heard him exclaim, not without aplomb, > > >"Merry Christmas to all--from Santa-dot-Com!" > > > > > > > Merry Christmas and Happy new year to all - including grinches! > > Greg Koos