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Visitors to Bethlehem rarely exceed a few thousand at Christmas. In 1995, there were rowdy celebrations of the first Christmas in a Palestinian-controlled Bethlehem. The Christmas Eve service televised on 25 December is celebrated not in the Church of the Nativity, which stands over the place where Jesus was said to have been born, but in the nearby Franciscan Church of St. Catherine.
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a user was using ... not even a mouse;
The programs were hung from the bugs in their code,
In hopes that a guru would soon cure their woes;
The data were nestled all snug in their beds,
While versions of software danced in their heads;
The boss dimmed the lights as I locked up my desk,
A couple days off and a well-deserved rest;
Then all of a sudden there came such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the processor I flew like a flash,
What a terrible sound .. like a massive headcrash;
The lights they were blinking and beaming aglow,
The hardcopy printout said "Let service know!";
When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
On a silicon wafer ... a field engineer;
A little device driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Chip!
More rapid than Macro, his cursor insane,
He whistled and shouted like a video game.
Now, Pascal! Now, Basic!, Now, Fortran and Cobol!
On RPG! On PL/1, On Dibol and Snobol!
To the top of the registers, the bottom of core!
Run diagnostics and see what they store!
As memory leaves when electricity flies,
The 'Rep' cracked a smile and loosened his tie;
He was chubby and plump, said the place was a wreck,
And I laughed when I saw him (in spite of high tech).
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He was dressed from his head to his feet in a suit,
His briefcase was heavy with tools to re-boot.
With bundles of bits bulging out of his slacks,
He looked like a pro 'bout to fix a blown pack.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Reseated PC boards, then turned with a smirk;
Hit return with his finger and said "Here it goes,"
And giving a nod, into the CRT he dove.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere leaving the site,
"Restore the data, and all will be right!"
Everyone has a right to be stupid. Some just abuse the privilege.
-Unknown
The Byte Before Christmas
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