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Poesi for utstyrsfanatikere


HaHa

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Sakser denne fra blur.se, som igjen har sakset fra Petit Bateau

 

I must go down to the seas again, in a modern high-tech boat,

And all I ask is electric, for comfort while afloat,

And alternators, and solar panels, and generators going,

And deep cycfe batteries with many amperes flowing.

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the autopilot’s ways,

And all I ask is a GPS, and a radar, and displays,

And a cell phone, and a weatherfax, and a short wave radio,

And compact disks, computer games, and TV videos.

 

I must go down to the seas again, with a freezer full of steaks,

And all I ask is a microwave, and a blender for milkshakes,

And a watermaker, air-conditioner, hot water in the sink,

And E-mail and a VHF to see what my buddies think.

 

I must go down to the seas again, with power-furling sails,

And chart displays of all the seas, and a bullhorn for loud hails,

And motors pulling anchor chains, and push-button sheets,

And programs which take full control of tacking during beats.

 

I must go down to the seas again, and not leave frends behind,

And so they never get seasick we’ll use the web on-line,

And all I ask is an Internet with satellites over me,

And beaming all the data up, my friends sail virtually.

 

I must go down to the seas again, record tlie humpback whales,

Compute until I decipher their language and their tales,

And learn to sing in harmony, converse beneath the waves,

And befriend the gentle giants as my synthesizer plays.

 

I must go down to the seas again, with RAM in gigabytes,

And teraflops of processing for hobbies that I like,

And software suiting all my wants, seated at my console

And pushing on the buttons which give me complete control.

 

I must go down to the seas again, my concept seems quite sound,

But when I simulate this boat some problems I have found,

The cost is astronomical, repairs will never stop,

Instead of going sailing I’ll be shackled to the dock.

 

I must go down to the seas again, how can I get away?

Must I be locked in low-tech boats until my dying day’?

Is there no cure for my complaint, no technologic fix?

Oh I fear electric fever is a habit I can’t kick.

 

Jerry Hickson, “Arctracer”

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