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Quibbling Over Trifles
by Howie Vegter (April
2005)
I sit here now, on the steps of Low, just looking at the masses.
We congregate, or bode alone, just sitting on our asses.
I want to write a story, but know not what about,
Some thing about a controversy, what exactly, we'll find out.
Sleep deprived, my words contrived, what ever shall I write?
I shall begin, on this here whim, the story of a fight.
Here begins our short tale, of the battle of Soft E,
Which is the better paradigm, in which to program, we shall see.
Their battle, it was heated, his code for sure remiss.
The altercation came to a head, with an exchange that went like this:
"This code is crap; we must refactor."
"You best watch out; here comes my tractor."
He tried to run her over, until she would repent.
"Waterfall is better." "Oh no, I'll not relent."
She would say, "I like XP." And he would say, "I don't."
But in the end, XP prevailed; with unit tests she smote.
With that we end our yarn, that ended in such fuss.
Our phony stories of dissension, now return to us.
We would often quibble over sundry sullen trifes,
Quibs just not worth quibbling, but quib we did with might.
This makes no sense; with much pretense, we poetize our fights.
Fabricating controversy, is how we spent our nights.
We document our foibles, make up others on the way,
Of how to classify a hot dog, among other trials of the day.
The end is near; I want some beer, a lollipop as well.
What better way to end a poem than drunk, eating candy, in hell?
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