From: Kevin Mitsuo Iga <mosquito@leland.Stanford.EDU>
Message-Id: <199602231859.KAA09859@amy8.Stanford.EDU>
Subject: joke (fwd)
To: sipb-soc@MIT.EDU
Date: Fri, 23 Feb 1996 10:59:16 -0800 (PST)
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Forwarded message:
> From kyle@Csli.Stanford.EDU Thu Feb 22 16:45:20 1996
> X-UIDL: 92fedab4fc35c02188d587df08e89194
> From: Kyle Wohlmut <kyle@Csli.Stanford.EDU>
> Message-Id: <199602230039.QAA14537@Turing.Stanford.EDU>
> Subject: Sesquipedalian #18
> To: ling-local@Turing.Stanford.EDU
> Date: Thu, 22 Feb 1996 16:39:03 -0800 (PST)
> Cc: gopher-quip@Turing.Stanford.EDU
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> 
> the SESQUIPEDALIAN 				      Volume VI, No. 18
> \-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/
> Hawaii becomes US Territory (1900)		      February 22, 1995
> 
> 
> 		     THE NERD WHO ROMANCED MY COMPUTER
> 
> Most people who have computers don't understand them.  That's OK; most
> people who have washing machines don't understand them, either.  If
> your washing machine breaks, you call the washing machine repairman.
> He's in the book.
> 
> But if your computer breaks, whom do you call?  There is no
> infrastructure of computer repairpeople who make housecalls.  Instead
> you have to schlep your precious machine into the shop and try to
> explain what's the matter.  "It just kind of freezes," you say.  "It
> cheeses?" says the man behind the counter.  English is not his first
> language, or even his second.
> 
> "I have to reboot, and I lose data".  "Boot!  Boot!" he says, and
> laughs wildly.  Then he makes a telephone call.  Then he walks away.
> 
> There is a more satisfying way to get your computer fixed, although
> it's also fraught with peril.  You can call your local nerd.  Maybe
> it's the kid up the street, or the woman you met at a party who RAMmed
> and ROMmed you to death, or a freelance programmer you know from work.
> 
> Money is never involved.  Usually some elaborate form of barter is
> proposed; the reality of the exchange is often problematic.  "If I
> ever get to be president, I'll give you can unconditional pardon," you
> say. "Smoking!" the nerd replies.  The nerd drives an easy bargain,
> because nerds actually like to fix things.  You are providing them
> with recreation and the satisfaction of being competent.  You are also
> providing them with pizza, snack chips, and caffeine-laced
> beverages--this is important.
> 
> Then the dialog begins.  Not the dialogue between you and the nerd;
> the dialogue between the nerd and your computer.  You are merely a
> bystander.  Often, it's like being the only child of a dysfunctional
> marriage.
> 
> The nerd says, "OK, let's see what you've got.  Come on. Now this
> should --- wait a minute.  Wait a minute!  What are you doing to me?
> That can't be!  Brain-dead!  OK, OK, OK, this should work.  OK ---
> what?  Oh yeah, right, fatal error.  Right".
> 
> At this point, like a timorous child, you ask, "Fatal error?  Is that
> bad?"  "Happens all the time with this stupid system.  We'll find a
> hack," he says.
> 
> It is a relief to know that in the computer world, "fatal" has come to
> mean "briefly uncomfortable".
> 
> The nerd leans back in his chair.  You realize, suddenly, that he is
> deeply satisfied.  This is actually amusing for him; this rage at the
> machine is a sign of pleasure and love.
> 
> He plunges back into the system, losing all sense of your presence in
> the room.  He grunts and moans; the machine pings and grinds. "Don't
> do this to me, don't do this to me," he keeps repeating, like a lover
> coaxing a suicidal partner off a ledge.  You have the feeling you
> should not be watching, and you leave.  The nerd doesn't even notice.
> 
> He comes out of the room finally, fat and sleepy in the afterglow.
> "Wrote a little code," he says mildly, the same way Caligula might
> have said, "We had a little party."  He downs the last of his soda and
> disappears into the night.
> 
> You go into your study and stare at your machine.  You know it loves
> another more than you.  You decide to live with it anyway.
> 
> [John Carroll]