A Computer Poem for Those Over Forty
A computer was
something on TV
From a science fiction show of note.
A window was something you hated to clean,
And ram was the cousin of a goat.
Meg was the name of my girlfriend.
A gig was a job for the nights.
Now they all mean different things,
And that really mega bytes.
An application was for employment.
A program was a TV show.
A cursor used profanity.
A keyboard was a piano.
Memory was something that you lost with age.
A CD was a bank account.
And if you had a three-inch floppy,
You hoped nobody found out.
Compress was something you did to the garbage,
Not something you did to a file.
And if you unzipped anything in public,
You'd be in jail for a while.
Log on was adding wood to the fire.
Hard drive was a long trip on the road.
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived.
And a backup happened to your commode.
Cut, you did with a pocket knife.
Paste, you did with glue.
A web was a spider's home.
And a virus was the flu.
I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head.
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash,
But when it happens they wish they were dead.
-- author unknown
________________________________
Submitted by Gregory Brown
*Note: If your document is submitted to T's Corner by another person without your permission, and you do not want it posted, please click here and it will be removed immediately. You must include your e-mail address for verification.