Attention Web-surfers! I'm very curious why this document is so popular. If you didn't reach it from my home page, I'd appreciate it if you'd send me mail and let me know where you linked from: rfrench@cs.stanford.edu. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Return-Path: corwin@ATHENA.MIT.EDU UNIX Wizard (with apologies to The Who and Ambar) Ever since I was a young boy, I've hacked the ARPA net, >From Berkely down to Rutgers, Any access I could get, But ain't seen nothing like him, On any campus yet, That deaf, dumb, and blind kid, Sure sends a mean packet. He's on my favorite terminal, He cats C right into foo, His disciples lead him in, And he just breaks the root, Always has full SYS-PRIV's, Never uses lint, That deaf, dumb, and blind kid, Sure sends a mean packet. He's a UNIX wizard, There has to be a twist. The UNIX wizard's got Unlimited space on disk. How do you think he does it? I don't know. What makes him so good? Ain't got no distractions, Can't hear no whistles or bells, Can't see no message flashing, Types by sense of smell, Those crazy little programs, The proper bit flags set, That deaf, dumb, and blind kid, Sure sends a mean packet. ================ GIRLS JUST WANNA DEFUN I can't wake up, in the morning Cause of what I've been doing for most of the night. Teacher don't you know my program is done? And girls just wanna defun. The phone rings, in the middle of the night Advisor screams, "Watcha gonna do with your life?" Patrick*, how I relish double-oh-one**! And girls just wanna defun. They just wanna, just wanna, yeah Girls just wanna defun. Some people say A beautiful girl can't tool all night like The rest of the world. I wanna be the one to welcome the sun. And girls just wanna defun. *Winston, ai professor, MIT **6.001, Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs ================ Sing this one to Michael Jackson's "Beat it" You're processing some words when your keyboard goes dead, Ten pages in the buffer, should have gone to bed, The system just crashed, but don't lose your head, Just BOOT IT, just BOOT IT. Better think fast, better do what you can, Read the manual or call your system man, Don't want to fall behind in the race with Japan, So BOOT IT, Get the system manager to BOOT IT, BOOT IT, Even though you'd rather shoot it. Don't be upset, it's only some glitch. All that you do is flip a little switch. BOOT IT, BOOT IT, Get right down and restitute it. Don't get excited, all is not lost. CP/M, UNIX or MS/DOS Just BOOT IT, boot it, boot it, boot it... You gotta have your printout for the meeting at two, The system says your jobs at the head of the queue, Right then the thing dies but you know what to do, BOOT IT. You always get so worried when the system runs slow, And when it finally crashes, man you feel so low, But computers make mistakes (they're only human you know) So BOOT IT, Call the local guru to BOOT IT, BOOT IT, Go ahead re-institute it. If you're not lucky, get the book off the shelf, But if you are, it'll do it itself. BOOT IT, BOOT IT, Then go find the guy who screwed it! Operating systems are built to bounce back, Whether it's a Cray or a Radio Shack. BOOT IT! BOOT IT! ============== >From: ggerke@unocss.UUCP (Greg Gerke) Newsgroups: rec.humor Subject: A revision of an old favorite ... Date: 8 Sep 88 13:15:40 GMT DP Man (sung to the tune "Piano Man" by Billy Joel) It's eight o'clock on a Monday, The programming crowd staggers in, There's a user by my terminal, With drool running off of his chin. He says, "Son, can you code me some processing, I'm not really sure what I want, But it's short and it's sweet and it's NP-complete And it has to be finished by lunch." Chorus: They say, "Write us some code, you're the DP man, Write us some code today, 'Cause we need this report for the CEO, And he wants it by yesterday." Now, Tim at the console's a friend of mine, He bumps up my priority, And he'll bum me a smoke or some Twinkies and Coke, But there's someplace that he'd rather be. He said, "Paul, I believe it's a dead-end here," As the smile ran away from his face, "But I'm sure I could find work with IBM, If I could get out of this place." Now, Mark is a frustrated racing man, Whose license is riding on luck, And he's talking with Jeff who scares mopeds to death, With those forty-inch tires on his truck. Well, it's pretty good code for a Monday, And my team leader gives me a smirk, 'Cause he knows that it's me they'll be coming to see, When they find out that it didn't work. And the keyboard, it clicks like a tickertape And the CRT screams like a jet, And they walk by my cube and throw pens at my tube, And say, "Man, ain't they fixed that thing yet ?" And the old hands are screaming to standardize, As the patches and kludges pile up, 'Cause this place is a hacker's own paradise: It's a string-handling-in-Fortran shop. ==== [This next one is like the Blake poem, "Tiger, tiger, burning bright".] Bunsen Burner burning bright, On the lab bench of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful chemistry? In what distant reactions, Burnt the fire of thine actions? On what ring stands dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what structure, and what bonds, Could twist the sinews of thy electrons? And when thy heart began to beat, What reaction formed thy heat? What the test tube? What the mole? In what furnace was thy soul? What the funnel? What the flask? Dare its deadly ketones gasp? When the stars threw down their radiation And watered the world with their elation: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made Physics made thee? Bunsen Burner burning bright, On the lab bench of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful chemistry? Bill Bretschneider (lafcol!bretschw) "The Worm Before Christmas" by Clement C. Morris (a.k.a. David Bradley, Betty Cheng, Hal Render, Greg Rogers, and Dan LaLiberte) Twas the night before finals, and all through the lab Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb. Their projects were finished, completed with care In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair). The students were wired with caffeine in their veins While visions of quals nearly drove them insane. With piles of books and a brand new highlighter, I had just settled down for another all nighter --- When out from our gateways arose such a clatter, I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter; Away to the console I flew like a flash, And logged in as root to fend off a crash. The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3, Gave oodles of info --- some in 3-D. When, what to my burning red eyes should appear But dozens of "nobody" jobs. Oh dear! With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm, I knew in a moment, it was Morris's Worm! More rapid than eagles his processes came, And they forked and exec'ed and they copied by name: "Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen! To the sites in .rhosts and host.equiv Now, dash away! dash away! dash away all!" And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone, The complaints of the users. (Thought I was alone!) "The load is too high!" "I can't read my files!" "I can't send my mail over miles and miles!" I unplugged the net, and was turning around, When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound. I fretted. I frittered. I sweated. I wept. Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp. It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth, And I laughed, when I saw it, in spite of myself. A look at the dump of that invasive thread Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread. The next day was slow with no network connections, For we wanted no more of those pesky infections. But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter, Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter. Then later that month while all were away, A virus came calling and then went away. The system then told us, when we logged in one night: "Happy Christmas to all! (You guys aren't so bright.)" [ Note: The machines dasher.cs.uiuc.edu, dancer.cs.uiuc.ed, prancer.cs.uiuc.edu, etc. have been renamed deer1, deer2, deer3, etc. so as not to confuse the already burdened students who use those machines. We regret that this poem reflects the older naming scheme and hope it does not confuse the network adminstrator at your site. -Ed.] ==== From: damartin@sage.LCS.MIT.EDU (David Martin) American Pie --- Hacker Style Long, long, time ago, I can still remember How UNIX used to make me smile... And I knew that with a login name That I could play those unix games And maybe hack some programs for a while. But February made me shiver With every program I'd deliver Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more spec... I can't remember getting smashed When I heard about the system crash And all the passwords got rehashed The Day That UNIX Died... And I was singing: Bye, bye, nroff, rogue and vi Gave my program to Phil Levy but Phil Levy was high, The boys on the board were sayin' "fuck this, goodbye." Singin' this'll be the day that I die... This'll be the day that I die Did you write the new games shell And do you have faith in the manual? If b:dennie tells you so... Well, do you believe in UNIX C Can hacking save you memory And can you tell me why vi's so slow Well, I know that you're in love with C 'Cause I saw your code on UNIX B You just kicked off your shoes Man, you cleaned up every kludge! I was a lonely young computer geek With a program due 'most every week But I guess that I was meant to freak The Day That UNIX Died And I was singin: (chorus) Well, for ten weeks we've been in this class The professor really is an ass. But that's not how it used to be... When Ira Pohl taught in CIS 12 And user limits could go to hell And there was still space on UNIX C. And while the board was looking 'round The Chancellor brought the budget down The classes were adjourned Evaluations weren't returned And while Huffman read a book by Pohl The CIS board made some prof's heads roll And we wrote programs that weren't whole The Day That UNIX Died And we were singin'... (chorus) Helter skelter in the summer swelter I went in the lab to find some shelter Ninety degrees and risin' faaaaaasst!!! C stayed up for ten whole days The hackers really were amazed Wonderin' how long it all would last. Well, both the forums were really great Nobody got us all irate We had a stroke of luck The system was not fucked 'Cause the hackers kept their code real clean The UNDR-shell was really keen Do you recall what was the scene The Day That UNIX Died And we were singin... (chorus) Our programs were all in one place, UNIX had run out of space With no time left to start again... So, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Use every programming trick 'Cause UNIX may soon crash again... And as I watched the system fill My login process would be killed. The system just went down Consternation up at Crown"!!! The hours went on into the night And all that we could do was rite I saw Dennie laughing with delight The Day That UNIX Died And he was singin'... (chorus) I met a girl who sang the blues And I asked her for some stat lab news But she just cursed and said "grow up" I went down through the stat lab door Where I'd learned of UNIX years before But the man there said that UNIX wasn't up And in the halls the students screamed, The majors cried and the hackers dreamed, But not a word was spoken The Vaxes all were broken And the three folks I admire most The Father, Frank, and a.g.'s ghost They caught the last train for the coast The Day That UNIX Died And they were singin... So bye, bye, nroff, rogue and vi Gave my program to Phil Levy but Phil Levy was high. The boys on the board were sayin' "fuck this, goodbye" Singin' this'll be the day that I die... (with apologies to Don McLean) ---------------------------------------------------------------- SYSTEM CRASH (to the tune of "The Monster Mash") ------------ I was working in the lab, late one night When my eyes beheld an eerie sight, Some smoke from our VAX began to rise And suddenly, to my surprise... [chorus] (There was a crash) There was a system crash (A mighty crash) I heard the disk heads smash (A system crash) It came down in a flash (There was a crash) A fatal system crash The lab manager then appeared from his room, Said: "I don't want to be a prophet of doom, But we had one like this just the other day Which blew up 4 megs and the SBA" [chorus] The system had just been booted, diagnostics had all run through, When a power fluck made it all run amuck, then SCOTTY and IRVING blew too So we'd lost all our VAXes in less than one night When a VP came in and said: "hey, that's all right, I'll loan you a Venus - here's what to do When you call up Support, tell them Gordon sent you... [chorus] ------------------------------------------------ From: Kevin B. Theobald (...to be sung to the tune of "Hotel California") In a dark Boston airport, hot wind in my hair Foul smell of pollution rising up through the air Up ahead 'cross the river, I saw a great shining dome My heart grew heavy and my guts felt sick, this was to be my new home There they stood in the Great Court, I heard the students yell And I was thinking to myself, this can't be heaven, this has to be hell Then they held up their frat signs and they rushed me away There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say: Welcom to the Hotel Massachusetts Such a nerdy place, such a nerdy face Not enough room at the Hotel Massachusetts* Any time of year, you can pay us here Their minds are hopelessly twisted, they got the Institute Screw They got a lot of heavy problem sets that they must do How they tool on the fifth floor**, 18.01 Some tool 'cause they have to, some tool to have fun So I held up my meal card, "Please, what is this for?" He said we've had forced commons since the class of 1984 And still those voices are calling from far away Wake you up in the middle of a class, just to hear them say: Welcome to the Hotel Massachusetts Such a nerdy place, such a nerdy face They're tooling away at the Hotel Massachusetts What a boring day, 'cause they must have 'A' Pipes on the ceiling, the greasy food on rice And they said, "We are all just prisoners here, of Paul Gray's device" And in the Student Center, the students come to eat They stab it with their plastic knives but they just can't cut the meat Last thing I remember, I was at the Registrar I had to get my transcript sent to a place where I'll go far "Pay up," said the Chanc'llor, "we will fine you if you're late. You can flunk out any time you like, but you can't graduate" * Historical context 1: This song was written in the Fall of 1980, when 7 frosh were stuck in the basement of Ashdown because there wasn't enough housing. ** Historical content 2: The 24-hour library used to be in the fifth floor of the student center. Hotel Massachusetts was originally published in The Baker Letter, v. 34, no. 2, 4/9/81. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Day SunOS Died =================== Lyrics by N. R. "Norm" Lunde (norm@ctr.columbia.edu). Apologies to Don McLean. Remember when those guys out West With their longish hair and paisley vests Were starting up, straight out of UCB? They used those Motorola chips Which at the time were really hip And looked upon the world through VME. Their first attempt ran like a pig But it was the start of something big; They called the next one the Sun-2 And though they only sold a few It soon gave birth unto the new Sun-3 which was their pride And now they're singing "Bye, bye, SunOS 4.1.3! ATT System V has replaced BSD. You can cling to the standards of the industry But only if you pay the right fee -- Only if you pay the right fee . . ." The hardware wasn't all they sold. Their Berkeley port was solid gold And interfaced with System V, no less! They implemented all the stuff That Berkeley thought would be enough Then added RPC and NFS. It was a lot of code to cram Into just four megs of RAM. The later revs were really cool With added values like SunTools But then they took us all for fools By peddling Solaris . . . And they were singing, They took a RISC and kindled SPARC. The difference was like light and dark. The Sun-4s were the fastest and the best. The user base was having fun Installing SunOS 4.1 But what was coming no one could have guessed. The installed base was sound And software did abound. While all the hackers laughed and played Already plans were being made To make the dubious "upgrade" To Sun's new Solaris . . . And Sun was singing, The cartridge tapes were first to go -- The CD-ROM's a must, you know And floppy drives will soon go out the door. I tried to call and ask them why But they took away my TTY And left my modem lying on the floor. While they were on a roll They moved the damned Control. The Ethernet's now twisted pair Which no one uses anywhere. ISDN is still more rare -- The bandwidth's even less! But still they're singing But worst of all is what they've done To software that we used to run Like dbx and even /bin/cc. Compilers now have license locks Wrapped up in OpenWindows crocks -- We even have to pay for GCC! The applications broke; /usr/local went up in smoke. The features we've depended on Before too long will all be gone But Sun, I'm sure, will carry on By peddling Solaris, Forever singing, -------------------------------------------------- Don't tell Paul Simon - The problem's all inside your code she said to me; Recursion's easy if you take it logically. I'm here to help you if you're struggling to learn C, There must be fifty ways to hose your code. She said it's really not my habit to include, And I hope my files will not be lost or misconstrued; But I will recompile at risk of getting screwed, There must be fifty ways to hose your code. Just blow up the stack, Jack, Make a bad call, Paul, Just hit the wrong key, Lee, And set your pointers free. Just mess up the bus, Gus, You don't need to recurse much, You just listen to me. She said it grieves me to see you compile again. I wish there was some hardware here that wasn't such a pain. I said I appreciate that, and could you please explain, About the fifty ways. She said why don't we both just work on all tonight, And I'm sure in the morning that it will be working right. Then she hosed me, and I realized she probably was right, There must be fifty ways to hose your code. Just lose the address, Les, Clear the wrong Int, Clint, Traverse the wrong tree, Lee, And set your list free. Just mess up the bus, Gus, You don't need to recurse much, You just program in C. -------------------------------------------------- The following parody of Carl Sandburg's "Chicago" appeared in the newsletter of the Tech Model Railroad Club at MIT back in the fifties. The TMRC evolved into one of the very first computer clubs, and this may be the first published use of the term "hacking" as presently used... Switch Thrower for the World, Fuze Tester, Maker of Routes, Player with the Railroads and the System's Advance Chopper. Grungy, hairy, sprawling, Machine of the Point Function Line-o-lite: They tell me you are wicked, and I believe them; for I have seen your painted light bulbs under the Lucite, luring the system coolies Under the tower, dust all over the place, hacking with bifurcated springs Hacking even as an ignorant freshman hacks who has never lost occupancy and has dropped out. Hacking the M-Boards, for under its locks are the switches and under its control the advance around the layout. Hacking!