Hamlet’s Computer

Task for the day:
º Set up the new computer.
º Instruct it to talk nicely to the monitor, the keyboard and the mouse.
º Attempt to retain enough dignity to continue talking nicely myself when it blinks at me and sends messages that say ‘invalid command’.

(I have been sans computer since the old-faithful drowned in the recent furious storms, with rain blowing right through the old farmhouse windows.)

With Suitable Apologies . .

Alas poor PC, I knew it, dear friends; computer
of infinite bytes, of most excellent casing: it has
borne me on its screen a thousand times: and now, how
distant in my imagination it is!
My voice berates it. Where be those keys that I have tapped I know
not how oft? Where be your clicks now? your
letters? your i-tunes? your flash-player merriment,
that was wont to stop the program at a whim? No more
now, of ‘file deleted’, grinning at my rage?
Now get you to the eco-chamber, I tell you, let
the recyclers strike, to this ending you
must come; ah, but you served me well.


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