A Visit From Microsoft -- Night Before Christmas Parody

'Twas a week before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a sound could be heard but the click of a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that new cell phones would soon fill them there.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of Playstations danced in their heads.

My hubby in his PJs had gone off to sleep,
While I stayed awake with a promise to keep.

Only days left, I knew I'd have to get hopping
If I wanted to finish all my Christmas shopping.

Away to my Windows I flew like a flash,
Hoping for once my hard drive wouldn't crash.

More rapid than DSL the menus they came,
And I surfed and I clicked and I entered my name.

Now Best Buy, Now Walmart, Now Lowe's and Amazon,
On eBay, on Staples, on Target.com.

To the top of each page, to Google once more,
To max out my Visa and my credit score.

When what to my poor bloodshot eyes should appear
But an error message, and much worse, I fear.

And out of the hard drive arose such a clatter,
I couldn't imagine just what was the matter.

The browser was frozen, the keyboard was dead,
It wasn't responding, and boy, I saw red.

And what did my wondering eyes then behold
But my sleepy-eyed, freckle-faced seven-year-old.

He was dressed in a tee shirt and Spider-Man shorts,
And he looked like a doll out of FAO Schwartz.

"I fell out of bed," he said with a frown.
"Whatsamatter, Mom, is the computer down?"

He spoke not a word but went straight to the work.
He de-bugged and de-fragged and I felt like a jerk.

"All fixed, Mom," he said as quick as a wink.
Then yawning he added, "Can I have a drink?"

Don't forget this advice. I know I never did.
For the very best tech help, just ask a kid.

Shakespeare, In Other Words

Many people are familiar with Shakespeare's 18th sonnet. Fewer know the poem by Howard Moss on the same theme. I think they're worth comparing.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Howard Moss (1922-1987)

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st, Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Who says you’re like one of the dog days? You’re nicer. And better. Even in May, the weather can be gray, And a summer sub-let doesn’t last forever. Sometimes the sun’s too hot; Sometimes it is not. Who can stay young forever? People break their necks or just drop dead! But you? Never! If there’s just one condensed reader left Who can figure out the abridged alphabet, After you’re dead and gone, In this poem you’ll live on.