Dr. Suess' FoTR

[Jessterw]

Saw this elsewhere in a thread entitled something like, "What if another author wrote Lord of The Rings?", thought this particular one was the best...

"Gandalf, Gandalf! Take the ring!
I am too small to carry this thing!
I can not, will not hold the One.
You have a slim chance, but I have none.
I will not take it on a boat,
I will not take it across a moat.
I cannot take it under Moria,
that's one thing I can't do for ya.
I would not bring it into Mordor,
I would not make it to the border."

- Excerpt from Dr. Suess' FoTR.


Here's the thread link, though I believe it has been /. so it may not load very fast or at all.

[Jammrock]

ROFL...I like it. Reminds me of 'what if Dr. Seuss did tech support.'

If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
and the bus is interupted on the very last resort,
and the accessors of the memory makeyour floppy disks abort,
then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.

If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash,
and your data is corrupted cause the index doesn't hash,
then your situation's hopeless, and your system's gonna crash.

If the label on the cable on the table at your house
says your network is connected to the button on your mouse
but your packet wants to tunnel to another protocol,
that's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall.

And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss,
so your icons in the window are as wavey as a souse,
then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
cuz sure as I'm a poet this suckers gonna hang.

When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy in the disk,
and the macro code instructions cause unnecessary risk,
then you'll have to flash the memory, and you'll want to RAM your ROM.
Quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your mom.

Jammrock

[Jessterw]

Hadn't heard that one... LOL.

[Sethos]

Ha Ha that's great!!

~Sethos

[Rakido]

Byock, where are you ???

-------------
A Lost Short Story by J.R.R. Tolkien

The chicken, sunlight coruscating off its radiant yellow-white coat of feathers, approached the dark, sullen asphalt road and scrutinized it intently with its obsidian-black eyes. Every detail of the thoroughfare leapt into blinding focus: the rough texture of the surface, over which countless tires had worked their relentless tread through the ages; the innumerable fragments of stone embedded within the lugubrious mass, perhaps quarried from the great pits where the Sons of Man labored not far from here; the dull black asphalt itself, exuding those waves of heat which distort the sight and bring weakness to the body; the other attributes of the great highway too numerous to give name. And then it crossed it.
--------------

Rakido