I just heard a kindly midwestern old lady's voice over the loudspeaker, saying "paging Doctor Gonzo. Paging Doctor Gonzo. Doctor Gonzo, please meet your party at gate C1."

Yet even though everyone here at C9 is likely headed to San Francisco, it doesn't look like very many people got the joke.

(Me, I laughed out loud.)

the first train on a Thursday morning;
who else is crazy enough?

my cab scheduled for 4:20
because the closest bus stop is the station.
the driver says it's a slow morning
but I can only think of it as night.

It's okay if you don't understand this one; it was written for a fairly specific audience.

To -all, or not to -all--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler on the net to suffer
The questionable results of outrageous hyperbole
Or to take voice against a sea of edge cases
And by opposing, expose them. To forward, to resend--
No more--and by a forward to say we forge
The message, and the thousand natural headers
That mail is heir to. 'Tis a featureset
Devoutly to be preserved. To forward, to resend--
To resend--perchance by lists: ay, there's the rub,
For in that resending by lists what change may come
When we have altered this delivery path,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long kludged.
For SMTP did bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' spammer's wrong, the proud geek's RFC,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy sender,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a new protocol?

Okay, I'm kinda losing it here. *grin*