>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The hardware was outdated, the software was fried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