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	<title>Comments on: The New booms.net Is Alive!</title>
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	<link>http://blog.bharper.com/content/2003/01/the-new-boomsnet-is-alive/</link>
	<description>the blog of brandon harper, yet another nerd on the internets.</description>
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		<title>By: Anonymous</title>
		<link>http://blog.bharper.com/content/2003/01/the-new-boomsnet-is-alive/comment-page-1/#comment-2</link>
		<dc:creator>Anonymous</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>When we are old and these rejoicing computers
Are frosty channels to a muted network,
And out of all our burning CD&#039;s remains
No feeblest spark to fire the CPU, even in dream,
This be our solace: that it was not said
When we were young and warm and L33T,
Upon our couch we lay as lie the dead,
Sleeping away the unreturning time spent gaming.
O sweet, O heavy-lidded, O my love (computer),
When morning strikes her spear upon the land,
And we must rise from the desk and turn off the computer, 
bittered by the insolent daylight mocking our pale flesh,
Be not discountenanced if the knowing know
We rose from rapture but an hour ago. 

The smell of your keyboard is always at my fingertips my love.
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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>When we are old and these rejoicing computers<br />
Are frosty channels to a muted network,<br />
And out of all our burning CD&#8217;s remains<br />
No feeblest spark to fire the CPU, even in dream,<br />
This be our solace: that it was not said<br />
When we were young and warm and L33T,<br />
Upon our couch we lay as lie the dead,<br />
Sleeping away the unreturning time spent gaming.<br />
O sweet, O heavy-lidded, O my love (computer),<br />
When morning strikes her spear upon the land,<br />
And we must rise from the desk and turn off the computer,<br />
bittered by the insolent daylight mocking our pale flesh,<br />
Be not discountenanced if the knowing know<br />
We rose from rapture but an hour ago. </p>
<p>The smell of your keyboard is always at my fingertips my love.</p>
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