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A Poem of Remote Access

Composed by Paul Lord.

Lies! Oh, how I loathe this remote access!
Sneaking in, thru wires and tubes, the back door,
To tweak and twiddle, to fix other’s mess!
Information technology? No more!

Now, go on begone; I’m done with you all.
I’ll fix it from my cave; you can forget
I’m here, until something goes wrong. Then call.
Still absent from you; I stay not well met.

Am I efficient or a misanthrope?
Ah, but these tools make it irrelevant.
Spooky action at a distance: I grope
In the darkness and straighten what is bent.

Personable people flee the hamthrax,
Remote access means I work, they relax.

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