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To C, or not to C, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The punchcards and greenbar of outrageous FORTRAN,

Or to take arms against a C++ of troubles,

And by Prographing, end them? To code, to compile--

No more, and by a VOOPL to say we end

The heartache and the thousand natural syntax errors

That text is heir to; 'tis a compilation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To code, to compile--

To compile! Perchance to beep--ay, there's the bug

For in that deep ol' nest what freeze may come,

When we have suffered 'oft this awful toil,

Must give us chores; There's the repeat

That makes calamity of so long lists:

For who would bear the slips and drops of Symantec,

Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud chairman's arrogance,

The pangs of despis'd assembler, the compiler's delay,

The insomnia of coffees, and the spurns

That patient waiting for Dylan takes,

When he himself might his application make

With a Visual Object Oriented Dataflow Language? Who would far calls bear,

To grunt and sweat over a misplaced parenthesis,

But that the dread of something after PI,

The undiscovered company, of whose visual syntax

No programmer complains, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those languages we type,

Than fly to others where we point and click?

Thus conference dues make converts of us all,

And thus the festive blue of operation

Is shift-clicked o'er with a fail, fast as thought,

And enterprises of great plinth-like logos

With this re-org their currents turn oh my,

And lose the name of International.

--Software now!