Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Odds without end
I'm in need of a little whimsy this week, so I pulled out a limerick I wrote that appeared in "Tech Directions" magazine a few years ago.
Driving Miss Royal
There once was a typist named Royal,
To her ribbon and carriage so loyal.
She knew how to white-out,
Typed poems with the light out;
She really was quite a smart goyal.
Our Royal could type like a racer;
No one in sight could out pace her.
She typed with great speed
And never did need
Even a tiny eraser.
But poor Royal was out making copies
When they came with the wires and floppies.
A computer they brought her
And said that she oughta
Start learning or go and plant poppies.
So Royal met up with a cursor
And her life just got worser and worser.
In spite of her wiles
She lost all her files
And spoke in words terser and terser.
Our royal friend wouldn't believe
That software could novels retrieve.
Her disks she would whack
With alas and alack
And for her lost typewriter grieve.
For many 'tis ever so tiring
To figure out manuals and wiring,
But our Royal's a leader,
A TECH DIRECTIONS reader,
In days she was back in there firing.
Now Royal can use any font
And all of the styles she might want.
She does her off-loading
With no more foreboding
And menus no longer a taunt.
And now for the rest of the news:
Royal is off on a cruise.
With her PC
There's gold in them there CPU's!
I found the limerick in a file of "fillers" that I've written over the years—everything from humorous anecdotes to tips for miniatures to party ideas.
Does every writer want to write every form as I do? I admire those who can stay with and perfect one genre!
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