(to the tune of I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major
General)
I am the very model of a usenet personality.
I intersperse obscenity with tedious banality.
Addresses I have plenty of, both genuine and ghosted too,
On all the countless newsgroups that my drivel is cross-posted
to.
Your bandwidth I will fritter with my whining and my snivelling,
And you're the one who pays the bill, downloading all my
drivelling.
My enemies are numerous, and no-one would be blaming you
For cracking my head open after I've been rudely flaming you.
I hate to lose an argument (by now I should be used to it).
I wouldn't know a valid point if I was introduced to it.
My learning is extensive but consists of mindless trivia,
Designed to fan my ego, which is larger than Bolivia.
The comments that I vomit forth, disguised as jest and drollery,
Are really just an exercise in unremitting trollery.
I say I'm plain and simple, but that's merely lies and vanity,
The gibberings of one who's at the limits of his sanity.
If only I could get a life, as many people tell me to;
If only Mom could find a circus freak-show she could sell me to;
If I go off to Zanzibar to paint the local scenery;
If I lose all my fingers in a mishap with machinery;
If I survive to twenty, which is somewhat problematical;
If what I post was more mature, or slightly more grammatical;
If I could learn to spell a bit, and maybe even punctuate;
Would I still be the loathsome and objectionable punk you hate?
But while I have this tiresome urge to prance around and show my
face,
It simply isn't safe for normal people here in cyberspace.
To stick me in Old Sparky and turn on the electricity
Would be a fitting punishment for all my plain simplicity.
Text reproduced with permission.
© 1998 
Uwe Milde
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