From: [email protected] (David P. Murphy) A long, long time ago... I can still remember how This newsgroup used to make me smile. And I knew if I could moderate, That I would make the jerks vacate, And maybe we'd be happy for a while. But MMFers made it vile, With every spammer I'd killfile, Bad news: even more came I couldn't take one more flame. I thought that we would celebrate When Jeff the Riffer chose our fate But now the clueless congregate, The day the chicken died. So... killall, Mister BOFH, Sent a STAT down to the newsfeed but got back a web page Them AOL boys were actin' half of their age Chanting "My message will be all the rage, My message will be all the rage." Did you write the CFV, And do you have faith in NNTP, If the charter tells you so? Now do you believe all systems useless whether Unix, DOS, or even VMS? And can you teach me how to lart and oppress? Well I know your box is seldom live 'Cause you loaded Windows '95 Even if it booted up The software would soon corrupt I was a newbie hackin' lurkin' fool With a shell account and a procmail rule But I learned the Net was much too cruel The day the chicken died I started ranting... [Refrain] Now for two years we were having fun Tales of idiots and the biggest gun But soon we'll look like a.f.c. All hardware sucks, no exceptions allowed And of your uptime you should not be proud (Most likely, your load is too low to see) Instead of talking about node names We'd rather hear of larting games Caffeine, music, and dumping core are better than a holy war. Recurring threads should not have begun I never thought that we'd have won >From now on we'll be overrun The day the chicken died. We kept on ranting... [Refrain] HTML in a USENET rap? It's what I'd expect from an MS app: Eight megs of RAM and swapping fast All the other apps are just as bad Buy ORACLE and you've been had --- It's the same Lovelace as in the past. Now the noontime air was sharp ozone And electricians scrambled for the phone While they tried to get us power We were down for more than an hour 'Though the admins tried to beg and plea, The pointy-hairs bought Windows NT. Do you recall the crashing spree, The day the chicken died? We kept on ranting [Refrain] And there we were safe in our group Until some luser spilled the poop With no header to try again. So can we make another newsgroup the same hidden by a really boring name? (ROT13 is the admin's only friend) And as I watched him on tv His claws gripped tight on each pc No hacker trained in perl Could break marketing's world. And as his sales climbed high into the sky >from upgrades and ports doomed to die I saw bill counting with delight The day the chicken died We kept on ranting [Refrain] I met a Larry who liked to lose And I asked him not to tell the news But he just wanted to post away I went to the Internic's door Where I'd gained a dot com years before But the man there said "for domains, you must pay" In cyberspace the packets dropped The newsfeed died and the readers stopped The lusers sat at their machine The MOTD unseen And the posters that I read first thing Malcolm, Piers, and c s king They NEWGROUPed as advised by ching The day the chicken died Still they were ranting... [Refrain] [Refrain] thanks to Rich Kulawiec for the original lyrics to "American Pie" by Don Mclean (copied from http://www.cs.hut.fi/~tri/hector/960101_0000_573.html)
From: [email protected] (Peter Ellis) and [email protected] (Colin Plumb) When a spammer's not engaged in his employment, his employment, Or posting his felonious get-rich plans get-rich plans His capacity for prurient enjoyment -ent enjoyment Is just as great as any honest man's honest man's Our BOFHness we with difficulty smother -culty smother When there's lots of LARTing lusers to be done to be done Ah, take one communication with another with ano-o-o-ther A sysadmin's lot is not a happy one Oh, when there's lots of LARTing lusers to be done to be done A sysadmin's lot is not a happy one happy one. When the bogon-breeding luser's not a-lusing not a-lusing When the flamer isn't wasting space and time space and time He loves to set the circuit breakers fusing breakers fusing And wank among the GIFs of porno slime porno slime When the cracker's ceased complaining of Big Brother of Big Brother He tries to get root password on a Sun on a Sun Ah, take one consideration with another with ano-o-o-ther A sysadmin's lot is not a happy one. Oh, when there's lots of LARTing lusers to be done to be done A sysadmin's lot is not a happy one happy one.
From: [email protected] (Chris Richardson) Subject: The Admin Cometh The Admin Cometh ---------------- 'Twas on a Monday morning the admin came to call, We'd brought a brand new Indy, but it wouldn't boot at all. He fscked and he fiddled and soon got it to work, But the luser wanted Netscape, 'cause the luser was a jerk. Oh it all makes work for the BOFHing class to do... 'Twas on a Tuesday morning the lanman made a show, He cabled and connected, packets soon began to flow. Then the luser filled his hard drive up with GIFs of kinky sex, So he ordered up a SCSI drive, rushed here by FedEx. Oh it all makes work for the BOFHing class to do... 'Twas on a Wednesday morning the SCSI priest arrived, With cabling, two goats and her bloody aaaaaaltar knife. Two sacrifices later the disks began to spin, The luser waited 20 hours, then he called us up ag'in. Oh it all makes work for the BOFHing class to do... 'Twas on a Thursday morning we got another call, With the standard SG setup, the luser couldn't work at all. He wanted C compilers, NIS+ and NFS, By the time the we had installed it all, it was a total mess. Oh it all makes work for the BOFHing class to do... 'Twas on a Friday morning the luser breathed his last, With his boss demanding programs, the luser coded fast. With a crufty piece of C++, his work he did begin, But it scribbled over the kernel, so we called the admin in. Oh it all makes work for the BOFHing class to do... [FX: Heavy LARTing] On Saturday and Sunday lusers do no work at all, So 'twas on a Monday morning that the admin came to call... [End with flourish and exeunt, humming quietly] --------
Oh it all makes work for the Admin staff to do Twas on the Monday morning that the customer did call He said I've got a modem, but I cannot net at all My PC's got a driver that I got from Gates's site And it's eaten up my printer, and set my socks alight. Oh it all makes work for the Admin staff to do 'Twas on a Tuesday morning that the Epson chappie came, 'It needs a dark blue cable' was the best that he could claim, He pulled up a replacement, and the printer he did poke, Then I tried to read the DAT drive, and the RAID went up in smoke, Oh it all makes work for the Admin staff to do 'Twas on a Wednesday morning that that the SCSI bloke arrived, She prodded the live conductor, so across the room she dived, Round my laptop, past my X-term, at a rate of knots she flew, Then she crashed right through a router, and that landed on her too. Oh it all makes work for the Admin staff to do 'Twas on a Thursday morning that 'Insurance' came to see, Just what had been happening, and how much was down to me. I showed the knackered router and our raid array in parts, So he phoned to get replacements and spilt the box of LARTs. Oh it all makes work for the Admin staff to do 'Twas on a Friday morning that the repairers came along, One like a bearded monkey, the other like King Kong. They fixed the broken hardware, hardly breaking into sweat, But they trod on a luser's modem, so now he's off the 'net. Oh it all makes work for the Admin staff to do On Saturday and Sunday, I do no work at all, Twas on the Monday morning that the customer did call (c) Paul Martin 1997 (c) Frank Lee 1997 Music and original idea (c) Michael Flanders and Donald Swann, sometime before 1997.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Blue Screen" sung to the tune of 'Sell Out' by Reel Big Fish (the latest wannabe Ska band). Well I know you can't be an admin all your life So don't sign that contract to-night... I said "but it's too late". Well I don't remember what I signed, The pointy hair will not resign, I'm really in for hell now- I'm really in for fscking hell right nooooooow. 'Cause you're gonna go to the pointy hairs, They're gonna feed you alla their bullshit, Managers say what you don't wanna hear, Try to sound smart, I just won't believe it, BLUE SCREEN... with me oh yeah BLUE SCREEN... with me tonight... The pointy hairs keep using the words they don't comprehend And everything's gonna be- fuuuucked uuup! No more fixing boxen- hearing dumbassed luser whines, You know I don't-want-that... no more... Well I really chewed the luser out, Did he learn?, I hardly doubt, I guess I have to kill him... I guess I'll have to fucking kill them aaall!!!! 'Cause you're gonna go to the luser's chair, You're gonna get to hear all his whining, He's gonna tell you 'bout the shit he pulled, Fucking the WAN, I just might start punching! BLUE SCREEN... with me oh yeah BLUE SCREEN... with me tonight... The lusers keep on changing the files they don't comprehend And everything's gonna be- fuuuucked uuup! And I do think that I will blow chunks! Yeah I know, I will blow big chunks! 'Cause the man says "Multi-me-di-a"... And the man says "I am one sharp, clueful DeeeeWD!!!!" NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! 'Cause you're gonna sit in the Bastard's chair, You're gonna get to deal with the morons, They're gonna tell you 'bout all they "know", Tell you they're clued, You just might need prozac! BLUE SCREEN... with me oh yeah BLUE SCREEN... with me tonight... The Bastard Operator From Hell is in your office, And you're gonna be in deep- deep shiiiiiit!!!!! -- Stephen S. Edwards II -- p h l a x i o r @ p r i m e n e t . c o m
From: [email protected] (Tom Yates) Once upon an afternoon, a Network guy espies a cable Since he has some NT servers Wishes to install a table Siezes he his cable cutters Swiftly slicing through the copper Lights go red and it's apparent That the network's come a cropper. All the usual data channels From the two cut ends are hanging On the door of server room the Users, all outraged, are banging Wanting data, wanting packets Wanting everything they've paid for This great day and others like it Bastard sysadmins were made for. For we had already told them That the network would be busted All the weekend, while the router Upgrade happened, and they trusted Us to honour our commitment Not to pull out any fuses 'Til the evening; but it matters Little what you do to lusers.
Parody by [email protected] and [email protected] My favourite things / Metasyntactic things ------------------------------------------ Raindrops on roses, / Foobars on bazes, And whiskers on kittens, / And quuxes on sillys, Bright copper kettles / Bright dinky freddles And warm woolen mittens. / And warm doinken binkys. Brown paper packages / Brown fuzzy verbnouns Tied up with string, / ending with ding, These are a few of my favorite things. / These are a few metasyntactic things. Cream colored ponies, / Cream colored zombles, And crisp apple strudel. / And crisp barney blurgle. Doorbells and sleighbells / Doobees and dumbees, And schnitzel with noodles, / And bloogle with floobles, Wild geese that fly / Wild frobs that broo With the moon on their wings, / With the doop on their zings, These are a few of my favorite things. / These are a few metasyntactic things. Girls in white dresses / Zops in white asdfs with blue satin sashes, / with blue batin flashes, Snowflakes that stay on / Wombles that dop on my nose and eyelashes, / my dohs and dahashes Silver white winters / Silver white wibbles that melt into springs / that boink into bings, These are a few of my favorite things. / These are a few metasyntactic things. When the dog bites, / When the muse bites When the bee stings, / With those feelings When I'm feeling sad. / It's a strong attack I simply remember my favorite things, / I simply think of metasyntactic things And then I don't feel so bad! / And know that it's time to Hack!
Written by Nir Soffer to Dire Straits' 'Brothers in Arms' : These blood covered lusers Are a job now for me Now my life is messed up And always will be Some day you'll return to To a place with no harm And you'll no longer to be Brothers in Arms Through these screens of destruction The lusers we'll fire I'll cause all their sufferings As the load will get higher And though I did LART them - so bad Since they're so fscking dumb My PHB didn't care Oh my Brothers in Arms There are many different boxes And one of them's a sun May the lusers get the poxes And we'll kill every single one  Now the Sun's gone to hell And the load's riding high Kiss the lusers farewell Cause they now have to die And we've taken their heart out And severed their damn palm It's fun to make war Oh my Brothers in Arms
Last Modified : Jan. 20, 1998
Heather Garvey / [email protected]