puff puff... pass!

UN Owen Was Blazed

Puff, the merging dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the item mist in a land called Honalee.
Little Jackie Parser loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and token streams and other lexer stuff.

Together they would travel on a boat with shifting stacks
Jackie kept a look-ahead for Puff's reduction acts.
Noble scripts and programs would bow when 'ere they ran
And semantic acts would set their flags when Puff derived his scan.

Oh, Puff, the merging dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the item mist in a land... called... Honalee.

p.s. install gentoo

Once upon a time there was a beautiful young duck named Ping. Ping lived with his mother and his father and two sisters and three brothers and eleven aunts and seven uncles and forty-two cousins.

Their home was a boat with two wise eyes on the Yangtze River.

Each morning as the sun rose from the east, Ping and his mother and his father and two sisters and three brothers and eleven aunts and seven uncles and forty-two cousins all marched one by one, down a little bridge to the shore of the Yangtze River.

All day they would hunt for snails and little fishes and other pleasant things to eat. But in the evening as the sun set in the west, “La-la-la-la-lei!” would call the Master of the boat.

Quickly Ping and all his many family would come scurrying, quickly they would march, one by one, up over the little bridge and on to the wise-eyed boat which was their home on the Yangtze River.

Ping was always careful, very-very careful not to be the last, because the last duck to cross the bridge always got a spank on the back.

Ping knew he would be the last, the very last duck if he crossed the bridge. Ping did not want to be spanked.  But one afternoon as the shadows grew long, Ping did not hear the call because at that moment Ping was wrong side up trying to catch a little fish.

By the time Ping was right side up his mother and his father and his aunts were already marching, one by one, up over the bridge. By the time Ping neared the shore, his uncles and his cousins were marching over, and by the time Ping reached the shore the last of his forty-two cousins had crossed the bridge.

Ping knew he would be the last, the very last duck if he crossed the bridge. Ping did not want to be spanked.