T'was the Sys Admin's Night Before Christmas

Wed, 25 Dec 2024 03:12:00 GMT

Welcome to the continuing tale of Dr Belstein trying to find Santa using science.

StarStryder is a community-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and clouds filled the skyNot an object was twinkling, not even Iota Tri;

The telescope was parked in its dome with great care,In hopes of spying a star on which it could stare;

My students were nested all snug in their bedsWhile visions of data danced in their heads

And I in my office, my Mac at my side,Was Googling for gifts – no bargain could hide.

When on the network, there arose a great clatter,I popped up an xterm to ping what’s the matter

Ping 74.208.25.93**CONNECTION FAILED** was all it said back to me.

The lamp on the screen of the Mac Book ProIlluminated too many processes refusing to go.

When, on what should my wandering eyes obsess,But a remote client and eight shared processes!

With a little old driver and each program taking its time,I knew in a moment it again must be Dr. Belstein.

More rapid than Windows, his executions they came,As he typed, and compiled, and called languages by name;

“Now, Java! Now, Python! Now, GNU C++!On, Cobalt! On Pascal! On, Visual C++!

Make software to formulate where Santa shall go!Now make away! make away! make away -o!”

As old computers not updated cease to fly,My processor whirred and proceeded to die,

Up to the network panel, my fingers they flew,As I typed IPCONFIG /Release and /Renew

And then, in a second, I heard from the hallSome cursing and a keyboard tossed like a ball.

As I leaned my head out and looked all around,I heard from his office the most amazing of sounds.

He was dressed all in tweed, from his head to his foot,And his clothes were chalky and somehow dusted in soot!

A bundle of disks he had clutched in his teeth,And he was a bit manic, as the sys admin he beseeched.

His eyes — how they twinkled! The promises he made!For Beowulf access, bonuses would be paid!

His droll little mouth was drawn down like a bow,And his chin quivered as if he stood in the snow;

The loop of a flash drive he held tight in his hand,While his desktop sent death encircling the LAN;

He had a broad face and a little pot belly,That shook, as he begged (like a bowlful of jelly).

He was tenured and sage, a right powerful prof,No non-tenured faculty dared tick him off;

In the sys-admin, however, there was no dread,The passwords were contained just one place: His Head!;

He spoke not a word, ignoring the old bloak,To the Beowulf he gave not even a poke

He just proceeded to open the main system node,And with a click, updates he began to upload

Belstein stomped to his desk, letting out a great sigh,Another year lost, (I thought he might cry).

But I heard him state, as if he couldn’t care less,“Next Christmas I’ll find Santa using GPS.”

Direct MP3 link

T'was the Day before Christmas

Tue, 24 Dec 2024 22:16:02 GMT

Many year’s ago, when I was writing and recording Slacker Astronomy, I had a random “let’s parody old Christmas Tales” kind of day and created the following tale of epic misadventures in science and Santa hunting.

This is part 1 of 3. I’ll be uploading the other two parts “T’was the System Admin’s Night Before Christmas” and “T’was the Prof’s Week After Christmas” at the times required by their titles. Please enjoy. And also, I´d like to wish all of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyful Solstice, Best Kwanza Wishes, and may the Pasta be with you.

StarStryder is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

T’was the day before Christmas, and all through the domeNot a GUI was stirring, not even gnome.

The CCDs were stored in their cases with care,In hopes that a supernova soon would be there;

The astronomers nestled all snug in their beds,While visions of dark matter danced in their heads;

And I, in my headphones, and my Mac in its placeHad just settled into a podcast writing pace,

When out on the crest there arose such a clatterI sprang to the desk to see what was the matter.

Away to the webcam (I tripped in my dash)I tore open the Windows and threw up the Flash

The Sun on the breast of the new-fallen snowGave the luster of summer to objects below

When, what to my wandering cam should appear,But a theorist prof, and eight grads dressed like reindeer

With fear for the telescopes, so precious their timeI knew in a moment it must be Dr. Belstein

More rapid than eagles his equations they came,And he twittered, and shouted, to grad students by name;

Now, Daniel! Now, Donald! Now Ronald and RandyOn, Christin! on Kirsten on Rachel and Mandy

To the white board you go, No Greek letter too small!Now solve away, solve away, solve away all!

As the comets that before the Sun’s gravity fly,When they meet with an obstacle light up the sky,

So up to the markers the students they flewWith many reference books, and Dr. Belstein too

And then, in a twinkling, I saw in the mathEquations mapping the vectors of Santa’s path

As I drew near my screen, and was scrolling aroundIn the entry Dr. Belstein came with a bound

He was dressed all in Tweed from his head to his cuffsAnd his clothes were all chalky from lecturing on space stuff

A bundle of finders he had clutched in his glovesAnd he looked a bit crazed, like a boy first in love

His eyes how they twinkled! His intelligence, how vast!His pencils were nubs, his calculations so fast!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,And the fuzz on his head was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pencil he held tight in his teeth,And the shavings from sharpening it formed a small wreath

He had a broad face, a little pot belly,That shook when he shouted like a bowlful of jelly

He was tenured and sage, a right proper old profI trembled when I saw him; my nerves went all soft

A blink of his eye and a twist of his headSoon gave me to know I had all things to dread;

He spoke not a word but went straight to the scopeAnd pressed all the buttons, then gave one final poke

And laying his fingers on the telescope’s pierHe awaited images on the screen to appear

His screen went all white, and his team gave a whistleThe sunlight brought instrument death like a missile!

But I heard him exclaim, ere he fled out of sight,Next Christmas, I´ll observe Santa only at night!

Thanks for reading StarStryder! This post is public - please feel free to share it.

Direct MP3 link