Dialogue 6
[ STUEY POO STANDS ON A HAY-BALE ]
STUEY POO
(shouting)
Villagers of AmIRight!! Lend me your ears!! I come here to.
DEE RANGE
(whispers)
psst, less theatrics, more integrity, Stuey Poo – but lace it with oomph!
STUEY POO
Fair point Dee. Villagers! I have news to tell - news of such horror that it could threaten our very existence!
MATTHIAS
Come off it, Stuey Poo – it can't be that bad
STUEY POO
But it is, Matthias – far far worse in fact. I challenge each of you after hearing this tale, to dismiss it as less than a crisis of mammoth import.
MATTHIAS
orrright, get on with it then
SONG 7
Click on the Original Song and then its MIDI (song starts after a 4-second intro):
"When You're Lying Awake" Parody by Johnny D
:
"King Chucky's Nightmare Song"
STUEY POO
When you run a web-site, you may try as you might
To maintain a facade of your piety
But you'll see some may use, randy language they choose
To indulge in, with loud impropriety
Porno raining like fire---the perverts conspire---
In numerous numbers to plunder you
First your motherboard goes, and surrenders to those,
Who would steal it impurely from under you
Then your firewall's rubble---your network's in trouble---
So terribly smart is their cracking
And you're now at a loss, and you fumble and floss
Ev'ry mem'ry address that they're hacking
Then the perverts all creep to the sound of a beep
And you see 'em all coming in faster
Next your keyboard resigns and politely declines
To take part in impending disaster
Well, you go get a Coke but it's warm and you choke
On that sugary ca-ra-mel brewage
While the lumbering teams with the horrible schemes
Start to bury your server in sewage
It's no dream, you are losing the battle they're choosing
You're shouting and screaming in diction
Which is something between impolite and obscene
And a very appalling affliction
And you're facing defeat from the vice-hammer-beat
Of that party of vengeful invaders
They're a ravenous horde--and your poor motherboard's
Alone there and now facing Darth Vader
You find an attorney asleep on a gurney
In your local hospital's lobby
And he says that your case is no ambulance-chase
And computers aren't his kind of hobby
Well, you're driving like mad and you're feeling real bad
As you hurry back home to your PC
Where they're playing lewd games, and they call you bad names
When you tell them they're slimy and sleazy
And this they can't stand, so they throw up a hand,
And you're staring at rude middle digital
And you're hurt and you're shocked and you're certain they've rocked
You so badly you're tempted to ditch it all
And now on your tube is a virtual boob
Which has somehow or other invaded it
And it's swelling so large it's as large as a barge
Every pixel you see has inflated it
It's a scheme of their vices, to get at low prices
Computer time free for the taking
They tickle your cable, their goal to enable,
Their filthy and foul mischief-making
You get a good filter to throw them off-kilter
(first you must re-boot with "Salute-Three")
And you beg for relief, but the Finger-of-Grief,
Flips a birdie and says " I'll compute free! "
On your screen, grosser sleaze -- nude wet apes in green trees,
Crawling flowers on apples and man-berries
While the randy hackers eat their SPAM and crackers,
Snickers, Slim Jims, and Maraschino cherries
You stare and you mourn so, as gut-wrenching porno
Is raping your CPU wildly
You bawl and you howl and to call this stuff foul
Is without a doubt putting it mildly ----
Your computer's a wreck,
And it's sicker than heck,
And a blundering whore,
Gives a thundering roar
From its screen, and within,
There's an unholy grin,
That was left by a creep,
For years deftly did sleep,
Then it woke up and rose,
And applied all its woes,
And some stuff that it flung,
Turned your hard drive to dung,
And a virus attacked,
Without warning or tact,
And you find yourself venting to Rover ----
But the hackers, at last --
Have now run out of gas --
And their blight was quite long --
-- ditto ditto my song --
-- and thank goodness they're both of them over!