Category Archives: Lyrics

Quarantine Days

Sunday, Monday, Quarantine
Tuesday, Wednesday, Quarantine
Thursday, Friday Quarantine
Saturday and Sunday
Another Quarantine Day

These days were ours
But they’re gone now
These days were ours
They’re all gone now

No more sunshine, and no more rain
It’s just LEDs lighting up my brain
Zoom’s my steady, I use my cam
We’re all in hiding and on the lam

No more cruising round the town
Choices are stand up or sit down
My sanity’s come to an end

Quarantine Days are yours and mine (Quarantine Days)
Quarantine Days are yours and mine (Quarantine Days)
Quarantine Days are yours and mine, Quarantine Days

Ode to COVID-19

it’s just a fuckin’ flu
it’s not going to kill you
(unless you’re very young, old, or immuno-deficient
… but then just maybe)

after all it’s here to stay
it ain’t ever going away
(it’s the fifth strain of the flu
and it will be back next year, baby)

so get on with your life
and don’t avoid your wife
(even though it’s a good excuse,
just trust me on this one)

and stop buying TP!
it doesn’t make you shit or pee
(it’s just fever and a cough
and two weeks of rest and it’s done)

which is very very great
because for containment* it’s too late
(as it’s been asymptomatically spreading
far too long to be contained)

so unless you’ll scorch the planet
please don’t panic ’bout this pandemic
(just be careful and sane
wash your hands and use your brain)

but if worried you doth be
eat raw onions and red meat
(they’re high in C and zinc
but please don’t eat meat pink# )

the calm they will survive
(it’s stress that eats you alive)
and life it will go on
(even though I end this song)

So, in simple terms, DON’T PANIC!**

# it can cause salmonella, and that will make you shit!

* At this point, the only containment strategy that’s workable is if we quarantine all the uninfected infants with their healthy caregivers, all the at risk elderly, and all the at risk immuno-deficient people (and include those with respiratory disorders) in private homes or hospitals so those at risk of death do NOT get it and just let COVID-19 take it’s natural course and spread like wildfire [like the Spanish Flu did 102 years ago] among the rest of us.

Once the rest of us are exposed, either we will fight it off right away (through natural immunities) and not get sick at all [like all the individuals who have asymptomatically spread it and given us patients zero all over the world with no way to tell how they got it], or we will develop an immunity post-infection. [Of course, this is predicated on their being enough flu medications to treat the hundreds of millions of people who will get it and enough health care and delivery professionals to make residential drop offs as a) the health care systems couldn’t handle so many sick people and b) we want the hospitals to quarantine the uninfected individuals who aren’t strong enough to fight off the flu.  But if 1/4 of the population is home in bed, there should be less fires, crimes, and war and we can redeploy our protectors to make doorstep deliveries on their routes.

In other words, we have to stop talking about containment (where it’s already too late in most places) and start talking about ongoing management and getting on with our lives. We need to ramp up production of treatments 24*7, start working on the vaccine TODAY (now that the virus has been isolated), and make sure that we bring common sense back when we get sick (and stay home — which also means companies need to either let people work remote more when they are sick, but not sick enough to not work at all) or, if that’s not possible, payout sick days until this passes.

** After all, no one’s about to blow up the planet to make a new hyperspace motorway!

Twas the Night Before Auction

Originally published December 24, 2009.

Twas the night before Auction, when all through the plant,
Not a creature was stirring, not even an ant.
The bid sheets were placed by the display with care,
In hopes that a new award soon would be theirs.

The workers were waiting for news from afar,
While visions of bonuses danced in the stars.
The boss with his black tie, and I with my Dior,
Had just readied our guns for a long bidding war

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the roof! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Goods, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the smoke-stack St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Goods he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Restocking the warehouse, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
Happy Auction to all, and to all a good-night!”

Twenty Years, and Nothing’s Changed. It’s still all about the Pentiums!

Today they might be called Xeon Ws or something similar, and power Mac Pros, but at the core, they are still, more or less, Pentiums!

Rock on, Al Yankovic, Rock on!

Because It’s All About The Pentiums (Original Video!)

Al may have been Running with Scissor, but no one did a better job of predicting the future of the IT industry.

     
My new computer’s got the clocks, it rocks
But it was obsolete before I opened the box
You say you’ve had your desktop for over a week?
Throw that junk away, man, it’s an antique
Your laptop is a month old? Well that’s great
If you could use a nice, heavy paperweight

  It’s All About the Pentiums
    by “Weird Al” Yankovic (@alyankovic)

I Am the Twitter! (Repost)

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like fish from a whale, see the bird fly.
I’m crying.

Sitting on a hashtag, waiting for the tweet to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your tweet grow long.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.

Mister celebrity ranting,
Pretty little celebrities in a row.
See the tweets fly like texts from a teen, see how they stream.
I’m crying, I’m crying.
I’m crying, I’m crying.

Random insane drivel, dripping from a newbie’s feed.
A desperate housewife, pornographic priestess,
Now you been a naughty girl you let your secrets out.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.

Standing in an airport Starbucks … waiting for the brew.
If the brew runs out, you get your fix
From candybars at the news stand.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.

Expert textpert channel blasters,
Don’t you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like whales in the sky,
See how they snied.
I’m crying.

Internet Spinal Tap, cranking up the dial to eleven.
Gary William Brolsma syncing Numa Numa.
Man, you have to see them kicking that Mark Zuckerberg.
I am the poster, they are the posters.
I am the twitter, goo goo g’joob.
goo goo g’joob goo goo g’joob.
Goo goo g’joob goo

Reposted in recognition of the doctor‘s 3000th tweet!

And remember, if you’re not following the doctor on Twitter, what aren’t you missing?