Dr. Dobb's Journal April 2002
A long, long time ago, I can still remember how the circuit popped and hissed and stank, when I thought that I could take a chance with that old electron dance, and maybe I'd be lucky and give thanks. But the circuit closed and made me shiver, as full mains voltage was delivered through me via my thumb, could not have been more dumb. I can't remember if I cried when I committed thumbicide, but something touched me deep inside, the day the circuit fried.
Did you write the Linux kernel, and do you have faith in the Doctor's Journal, if your broker tells you so. And do you believe in K and R, can coding save my house and car, and can you teach me how to code real tight? Well I know that you're a finance fool, 'cause I saw you writing business rules, you reek of affluence, and I dig those dollars and cents. I was a lone day-trader with a rebel yell, and I margin-traded till the closing bell, but I knew that I was SOL, the day the market died.
Now for years he's been back on the throne, this one the company disowned, but that's not how it used to be, when the jester built the circuit board, a design so fine it won awards, and said this Apple's made for you and me. But because the king just couldn't count, the sugar-water salesman pounced, and from his throne the king was bounced, but now he has returned. And while John and Gil both turned a page, Jeff Goldblum pranced upon the stage, and lime computers were the rage, the day Amelio cried.
Helter Skelton: Edward Felton and Dmitri Sklyarov were dealt a hand that neither one foresaw. They ran afoul of the law. They gave a talk and read a book, the DMCA said, you're a crook. Now you can't even post a link but you may end up in the clink. We all sat down to code and watched our rights erode. Oh as the programmers try to make the scene the lawyers start in to get mean on 2600 Magazine, until we turn the tide.
Oh and there we were all in one place, except that place was cyberspace, which everybody seems to want to own. And you know Bill is nimble, Bill is quick, Bill has never missed a trick, because winning is the devil's only friend. Oh and as I watched him on the prowl, the Netscape hounds began to howl, no way in hell that we — can compete with something free. And as the marketshare hopelessly fell and they sold out to AOL, I heard competition's sad death-knell, the day the browsers vied.
I met a girl who sang the blues and I asked her for some HP news, but she just smiled and gently coughed. I went down to the gadget store where I'd bought oscilloscopes before, but the man there said they'd spun that business off. And in the boardroom the children screamed, directors cried, and Carly schemed, but not a word would they say — about the old HP Way. And the two men I admired most, their fabled legacy is toast, their business on a downhill coast, the day that HP died.
Michael Swaine
editor-at-large
mike@swaine.com