For the forgetful, Y2K was the Millennium Bug. What was supposed to be the agent for ending the world instead was a generator of wealth for those who were clever. The computer guys fixed the problem before it could hardly get started. So the bug turned out to be a wimp. Many books were written describing how to survive the bug. I wrote one myself. But by September I knew the bug was all but eliminated. I gave the remaining copies of my book to the folks in my church. The scare was still on with them, so they gobbled them up like pancakes at the Independence Day breakfast. At the time I wrote the following poem. I dedicate it to Y2K, The Millennium Bug: Futuristic by Taylor Jones (Friday, April 9, 1999) Look ahead!
Look ahead!
Be Futuristic. The year was 2044,
If not that,
The year before.
I vonged to Osher
On the cape,
Spent the winter there,
Looking for a polar bear. One was seen in 2024,
None after
And few before.
But one must exist,
Though old and white.
One polar bear
Had to be all right. I took my Flecscan
From its case.
I cast my eyes
Around the place.
All was white
Except the sky.
But a polar bear
I did not spy. I put my stool
Upon the ice,
Opened my lunch tote,
And ate quite well.
But then I thought
I saw a flash.
I did, the sun
Had made a splash
On something on the hills away.
I said, I can make it
In just one day.
For after all,
The days are long.
The arctic winters
Do prolong. I jumped in my Scouten
And pushed the button.
It raised itself
Into the air.
I said, Forward.
It sped from there. I zipped along,
Taking in the sights.
Some ice,
Some snow,
Not much else.
Then we came
To ocean's shore,
Shot up the coast
To more explore. There it is!
Stop! You blasted machine.
Let's see what is
That flashing thing.
I hopped out
Onto the snow.
The wind was whistling,
I looked below. Here it is,
A can is here.
Once it held
Eight ounces of beer.
Now this a very exciting clue.
Another bear hunter,
Must be here too. I flashed my IF
All around.
It flickered
And pointed
To the ground.
I kicked around
The frozen earth
And found a board
Which I Unearthed. I picked,
I dug,
I scrapped
And drilled.
Soon The board
From the earth I peeled.
I lifted the board
Peered into the dark.
Out jumped a polar bear,
The grumpy sort. He said,
What are you doing here?
Don't think
You're
Getting
Any
Of
My
Beer! Another voice
From in the deep,
Who is it Henry,
Another creep?
That Wants your beer.
I'm sure that's true.
Let's eat him up and
Share with our cubs too. I shook,
I shivered,
I was worried some.
I'm looking For beer,
That's why I've come.
You see,
We don't have beer
During the Millennium. He snarled at me.
I did run! The End by John T. Jones, Ph.D. copyrightJohn T. Jones, Ph.D. 1999-2005 |
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