Nigrlepdins 143: Tiny Ruby Close-up

Yay! It’s Piglung and Dakron – Modern Loki

Hello, bary here, bringing you another episode of

Spindlegrin or “I’ll have respect, by God, I will.”

A tragedy in 2387 installments.

Part 143
The story so far;
Niall has once more been trapped beneath the clean
room as punishment by the evil middle management.

Dakron B Ebers Moll Equation was an abstract concept.
Not a very good abstract concept, he would be the
first to admit. There was no way he could compete with
those other high profile abstract concepts like Good,
Evil and Beige but he was doing the best he could
under very difficult circumstances. (He had once
utterly kicked the arses of 12 philosophy and law
students from UCD.(Not their metaphorical arses you
understand, he really did cause some serious
bruising.))
Dakron was unfortunate enough to be one of those
abstract concepts that are created on the way home
from the pub by two engineering students. His Genesis
was as follows,
“You know blue?”
“Wo’t? the colour?”
“Yeah but what if, what I see as blue is like pink to
you, I mean, we might both recognise it as blue, an’ a
coke can as red but what if they look different to
you?”
“Yeah it’s like you know they’re storing data usin’
organic pigments these days”
“Yeah mate. You’re spittin’ on me”
“Sorry, but how much data could you store on a monkey
if you took a high powered argon laser to it.”
“The problem as I see it is how many pornographic
images can be stored on a monkey before it wanks
itself to death?”
“Some sort of coolant would be in order.”
“Wouldn’t it drown if you kept it in a bucket of
water?”
“Nah, Monkeys can swim.”
“I don’t think they can…”
and so on.
The fact of the matter was that Dakron was judged as
being Not Really All That Abstract by the High Council
of Triple Point Breeder Philosophy (inc.), and bearly
a concept at all by the International Concept
Recognition and Equality register at IEEE HQ. Hence
he had sought the refuge of the damned, (the area
beneath test), and was living in the signal fire box
beneath cell 10. His room mate was Piglung, the Low
Curvature Yield Fairy who had been made redundant
since the introduction of Telesto. Piglung was
feeling rather depressed and had let himself go quite
badly.

Piglung was leading Dakron in an ad hoc Fourier
transformation ballad to pass the time.

No don’t you dare condense me,
You rotting piece of Banyan tree,
Skulking by the office Larch
With your can of collar starch

My office secretary,
Is hooked on KY-Jelly
It makes the office smelly
On the hottest day in June

No don’t you dare condense me,
You rotting piece of Banyan tree,
Skulking by the office Larch
With your can of collar starch

Oh my brand new lump of meat,
Is buried five miles deep,
In amongst the rotting sheep,
Underneath the moon,

No don’t you dare condense me,
You rotting piece of Banyan tree,
Skulking by the office Larch
With your can of collar starch.

(Note; To understand the above poem simply read it in
the time domain)

Dakron was considering moving to tester 9 by this
stage, when he became aware of an argument going on
outside his galvanised repository. The argument
appeared to be about how a packet of mints related to
ionisation.

Most bits(C)Loki 2000. Extra bits (C)BO’C 2000

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