From the Circular File Cries My Rotary Dial

From the Circular File Cries My Rotary Dial

Ok, Mr. Wizard,” the self says to me,
Go fix that computer and make it act right!”
Sounds easy enough. I’ve a friend who’s in need
Of a wireless setup and thus I proceed.
‘Twas folly to think I would work with delight
Then to rest proudly beneath the oak tree.

The new Tablet requires Wi-Fi, I am told.
What the hell is a Wi-Fi? My Fi’s good enough!
No manual comes with.… I must get it online.
They no longer print them, those cost cutting swine.
When your Fi talks nasty, I’m prone to get tough!
Please cut me some slack; I’m not trying to be old.

That printer’s a Wi-Fi-ing prick just as well
With its bells and whistles and blinking daylights
And its grunts and groans and grotesque machine sounds
If it’s sex that it’s having, that thing’s out of bounds!
C’mon, you young fuckers; we old farts have rights.
My mind’s a bit slower, but it’s clear as a bell.

All you Tech Support youngsters in faraway lands
As you labor through language not truly your own
I don’t need to be rude. You don’t need to be short.
I don’t know it all; I can be a good sport.
Much of my time is well spent on the phone
With someone who believes and who understands.

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