Category Archives: Lyrics

Ode to COVID-19

it’s just a f*ckin’ 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!

* Honestly, we are in the unfortunate situation where it might kill you, especially due to the gross global mismanagement of the situation and the unpreparedness of the health care system to deal with it and get the right people the right treatment at the right time as the mortality rate for the healthy should not be any more than it is during any bad flu year and the overall mortality rate should be a lot less, but, we’re in the situation where …

** the only containment strategy that’s workable now is if we quarantine all the uninfected infants with their healthy caregivers, all the at risk elderly, all the at risk immuno-deficient people (and include those with respiratory disorders), and other high risk individuals in private homes or hospitals so those at high 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 (because that is essentially what is happening in a number of countries due to delayed inaction, and in some cases, no action at all — there are still states without any measures whatsoever and as of April 7, 12 states in the US are exempting religious gatherings!  one breakout will be contained for 2 more to pop up!)

It’s harsh, but maybe Boris was right.  If it’s too late to stop, 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 (as 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, continue 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 (without having to be forced by legislation).

*** After all, no one’s about to blow up the planet to make a new hyperspace motorway!  The situation is grim, grimmer than it’s been since before any of us can remember, but we will survive.  So we need to maintain hope and, most importantly, not panic.  Any idea what anxiety does to your immune response?  Or what hypertension does to you?

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?

The Devil Went Down to Vegas …

The devil went down to Vegas
He was lookin’ for some souls to steal
He was in a bind
‘Cause he was way behind
And he was willin’ to make a deal

When he came upon this young man
Speaking on the big stage and workin’ the crowd
And the devil jumped
Up on a podium
And said, “boy, let me tell you what

I guess you didn’t know it
But I’m a keynote speaker too
And if you’d care to take a dare, I’ll make a bet with you

Now you work the grand stand like magic, boy
But give the devil his due
I’ll bet a statue of gold
Against your soul
‘Cause I think I’m better than you

The boy said, “my name’s Robert
And it might be a sin
But I’ll take your bet
And you’re gonna regret
‘Cause I’m the best there’s ever been

Robert, step up your game and work your magic hard
‘Cause hell’s broke loose in Vegas and the devil deals the cards
And if you win, you get this shiny statue made of gold
But if you lose, the devil gets your soul

The devil straightened up his tie
And he said “I’ll start this charade
And sparks flew from his fiery eyes
As he angled off his shades

Then he breathed his first into the mic
And it made an evil hiss
And a band of demons cheered him on
As the mark he never missed

When the devil finished
Robert said, “well, you’re pretty good, old son
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how it’s done

He worked the crowd into hysteria
The devil’s in the house of the rising sun
When he was done, everyone was floating on air
Robert, will you save us? Yes, child, yes!

The devil bowed his head
Because he knew that he’d been beat
And he laid that golden statue
On the ground at Robert’s feet

Robert said, “Devil, just come on back
If you ever want to try again
I done told you once you son of a bitch
I’m the best that’s ever been

He worked the crowd into hysteria
The devil’s in the house of the rising sun
When he was done, everyone was floating on air
Robert, will you save us? Yes, child, yes!

 

And if you haven’t figured it out yet, Coupa Inspire ’19 starts today at the Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas. (And it won’t be long until their next dance video is out. For reference, here’s ’13, ’14, ’15, ’16, ’17, and ’18.)