ere two thousand's post-meridian

(no name) ((no email))
Wed, 05 May 1999 14:04:35 -0500

A spectacular anagram was posted to alt.anagrams yesterday. It's Poe's The
Raven, reworked for the year 2000 by a fellow named Mike Keith, who also has
interesting stuff at his website -
- like the 71 Keith numbers of 19 digits or less. The anagram:


Once upon an April swelt'ring, as I blubbered, nearly melting,
Through my grandson's even-chambered house's small hartberry plot,
Damn! While pre-ill, bathtub-dreaming, all the evening housetops steaming,
Suddenly, pell-mell, I marveled, birth'd a little sunny thought.
"Let's go revelling," I ventured, "somewhere where it's ever not
So interminably hot!"

As I sat in thoughtful heaven, it was nineteen ninety seven;
(I remember this - it happened that Ralph's beaver ran away.)
Terribly I wished for cooling - season's cash I started pooling
"Let's," I thought, "repair to Devon seaside, even for a day.
Babbacombe this forenoon! - let us hobnob on the beach today!
Teignmouth, Bramble, or Torquay?"

I was then most promptly certain; son, I flung aside the curtain!
And I peered inside to see the wife, Lenore, in negligee.
"Very hot, it's hell" I muttered, then, brethren, I roughly uttered,
"Hell, Lenore, let's flee this burg, let's head South for a getaway!
I've in mind a day or mo' of harbor, maybe in Torquay?"
Then she trembled, "Um, why Torquay?"

Hot I quarreled (felon, sinner); finally I came a winner,
So we headed off in search of beach-naps there on Mother Day.
Bah! In tights, prayerlessly driving, something in my brain was jiving,
For nepenthe this mortal striving, over barren M-five roadway;
Here a simple statement - why was it still on my mind that day?
She had muttered, "Why Torquay?"

High born, I must heave confession: software running's my profession.
So it's non-surprising that I tho't, bebothered, at the shore;
"Y Torquay" something suggested; in a trice my brain had belted:
"Y-to-k" we 'uld be having in three years and little more -
These clove-hooven nerds had only used two bytes the year to store!
Digits torment? Nevermore!

You might think that I got messed up, but I must admit and 'fess up -
All that I could see were thrills and fatter pots of revenue.
Fast as neon 'lectrons hop (how?): London! - open hence a shop now!
Load up, go about and make 'em tremble (hell-felt ballyhoo)!
Bent to make the whole world know...but first, to have an Irish stew.
Home, Lenore! - let's "entre nous".

Borne home north - bah! - to McDonald's, had a damn tell-fest with Ronald.
"Herb," I said, "you need me more than anyone that's dealt before."
Marvel! I'll your software patch up, manly as a squirt of ketchup!
If you laugh me off then I'll motor to your competitor!
Heed my grammar, or you'll have heartburn - hah, don't show me the door!
Thumbs, he hurled me from the store.

Tenth, I trod the local Chamber; "Commerce," I averred, "'s in danger.
We must halt yon system, else the government come crashing down!"
Then they sat in torrent, humming, not a syllable there mumming.
Then I tho't, "They're pondering the birth, man, of this little town!"
"Argh," they burp'd, "Who hears? What government?" and gave me a McFrown.
Hence they all grinned, evil-clown.

Then methought the hall grew denser (my harsh thought got bleeped by censor);
As I tartly left I pondered what approach I best should take.
"They don't know about computers, from their teachers or their tutors,
So perhaps I should connote disaster, evil, flood, earthquake."
"Rheum!" I thought, "that's it! I'll have them fear a terrible outbreak.
I'll give them a mammoth ache!"

So I started newly stumping (with a little Bible-thumping),
Telling everyone the world would rend unless they heeded me.
"Not mere home computers, people!" - this I said beneath the steeple -
There are several things that need a software patch, and rapidly."
"Listen, please," I raved, here sit some things that need AI rapidly,
Or there'll be catastrophe!"

"From propellor, runner, rollmop, propane burner or barn doorstop,
Sheep-shearing machine or thrinter, or this pronged biplanar fan:"
"Learn, indeed!", the rant continued, "everyone that's been north knows you'd
Better shelve these gadgets ere two thousand's post-meridian!
Death to revellers, for they will seek in vain for a CAT scan!
It will not work, nor will man!"

This might seem a little nervy, and you might entone me "scurvy",
But it worked far better than those terrors I had used before.
Thrum! My phones were always ringing - ever' month I spent a-singing
As I went about in search of things to add two digits more.
What a time in Greenwich! - men adored me like no one before.
I felt, then, as strong as Thor.

Think in this that I was greedy? I thought of myself as needy!
I imagined Northern living, stepping off of this rat race.
If I grooved my little (bleep) off, like that engineer named Kirkhoff,
Anon I'd bring forth a big nest egg, find a little northern place.
Me and her might settle down, might live the flannel life some place.
Maybe northern outer space?

So, I stepped up my endeavor - I was thriving, monstrous clever!
And I hired several helpers to assist me with my scheme.
"Now," I said, "I need a logo." - first I thought of the name "Gogo",
Since the "Waiting for Godot" plan seemed a rather fitting theme;
I won't tell how long I spent in this diverting midday dream -
Then I stopped for tea and cream.

Was I done then? No, sirree man! I got started planting oat bran,
'Cause you never know...hum...all the food around might disappear!
"One stop planning!" - so the ads ran - "Chips of both kinds, every corn, man!"
And the orders flooded in, for front-dried pond fish, fresh corn ears.
Bluebush, too, and canned goods guaranteed to last over a year.
Had to finger a cashier.

As the nineteen-nineties ended, and my bran account extended,
I decided after Y-to-k my ease was not years off.
So I started reading law books, hanging out in library nooks,
So that I could delve into the art of suing one's pants off.
Yes, for sure, I'll make a bundle sinning, sending pants right off!
I'll reap quite a big rip-off.

One day as I chomped on horn-backs, suddenly was anticlimax!
Y-to-k had come and gone then: nothing but a minor "hmph"!
I had merely one misgiving - that the Spice Girls still were living -
Otherwise, the Bronx survived; no terrors - everyone was well.
No apocalypse had come; it wasn't (darn!) a living hell.
Softly pealed th'veranda bell.

It's two thousand one - I'm spinning, in my parlor I am nestling,
Near a torrid bust of Turing just above my north throne door;
Every morn I'm merely thankful, that he helped to make my bank full
As I think of Thatcher, COBOL rooms, other damn dinosaurs;
And this life of leisure those contingents did to me outpour
Shall be lifted - nevermore!