Anyone disinterested or offended by a bit of Friday silliness should hit the delete key.
Now.
I mean it.
NOW, KID!!
All right. It's February--the longest month of the year.
It's Friday the 13th. Not that I'm superstitious, since I'm afraid that would make me unlucky.
It's cold. Here in the DC area it's supposed to get into the single digits tonight, and even colder over the weekend; not too bad for Minnesota or North Dakota, but bad for us. Even better for those of you in Ontario or Nova Scotia, but we use that other scale down here in the States.
So what could be better than another poem? Well, six weeks in a villa on the Mediterranean, for one, but all I have is a poem.
I've been spending the week cataloging books and dealing with scratch-off codes. I was reminded of a recent thread here on MEDLIB-L, and one thing led to another. Here's another:
Released under some form of Creative Commons:
1. You are free to use and redistribute this work without asking my permission.
2. Attribute the work to me if feasible.
3. You are free to modify this work; if you improve it, I’d appreciate a copy.
The alert reader will notice that the author didn't always follow the rhyme scheme of abcbbb. The author is aware of this, but wanted to slip in some lines that didn't fit. Trochaic octometer is hard enough without keeping to the rigid abcbbb. The second line of stanza the sixth does scan; one has to pronounce each letter or number of the term beginning with Z singly, then the year as one would normally.
I am posting only on behalf of myself, and my words do not necessarily reflect those of my colleagues, my employer, or anybody else, anywhere.
And with that, may I introduce...
The Access Code
By Fred King, sometimes known as Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz
Once upon a Tuesday dreary, while I cataloged, weak and weary,
Over many a new and heavy volume of medical lore--
While I cataloged, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of something gently rapping, rapping on my office door.
"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping on my office door--
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November,
And each lasting dying light bulb left a shadow on the floor.
Wakened now was I from napping, still I heard the gentle tapping.
"Is anybody there?" I said, "who needs the revised apgar score?"
I left my cup beside the keyboard, stood and opened wide the door;
A book truck there and nothing more.
Then I realized the tapping came from scores of pages flapping
Covers colorfully proclaiming access to resources more.
"Register this access code and utilize our online mode."
New to this I wondered, pondered, thought about this online caper,
Saw a sticker firmly fixed upon the front paste down endpaper:
Silver there and nothing more.
"This book has no indices, no chapter notes, it's all a tease.
All that content is online, not like the olden days of yore.
Go and get a coin or scraper, scrape off the concealing crepe, for
Underneath you'll find a code to get you through the secret door:
J37MVLUWM854
KSQ9854."
"Click here to agree to license, eternal access is so past tense.
With this book you get three years, thrice twelve months and nothing more.
Fleeting access is the norm, and vigilant web sites are doormen."
My eyes they fixed upon the statement, terror seeped into my core,
Thinking thoughts no cataloger ever had to think before:
Should I show this book the door?
"Look! On the verso of the title page is information vital:
ANSI standard Z39.48 from 1984.
The pages here are free from acid; chemicals in here are placid
And they're guaranteed to last for centuries or even more
In libraries they'll sit through months and years and peace and even war
'Til we are dust and nevermore."
"Libraries?" the license mocked me, clearly its omission shocked me.
"These books are made for single users, just one person, not one more.
I'm afraid you're on your own here, there's no use to whine and moan here."
I wished so for a brief Nepenthe, sought my cup but it was empty.
No Assam or Tippy Yunan, Irish Breakfast, Golden Mutan;
Just a cup and nothing more.
Thing of evil, book with barcode, now you have a near and far code.
"Access anywhere online from mountaintop to furthest shore."
Depending on the Internet--ubiquity is far from met.
Sometimes the signal cannot penetrate a single wall or floor.
A book complete goes everywhere, to use it all is not a chore.
Just a plain book? Nevermore.
I turned to my computer screen, went to the web site, blue and green
And tried to register the book for access to content galore.
I sprang away and shrieked with terror, I saw "Internal server error."
Is this how publishers maintain their sites to give us access more?
Will every user see this screen when accessing this knowledge store?
An error message, nothing more?
Now new books are incomplete, their licensing terms you must meet:
Two hundred dollars for a book with things online you can see for
Just three short years then it expires in digital funereal pyres.
All that content is online, not like the olden days of yore
All that content is online, not like the golden days of yore
Just a plain book? Nevermore!
Released under Creative Commons: (1) You are free to reproduce these works at will without asking my permission. If you make millions of dollars off them, I'd appreciate it if you'd throw a few dollars my way. (B) Attribute them to me, Fred King, if feasible. (iii) If you make improvements, please send them to me at phred (at) phred (dot) us.