The Authentic High Tech Computer Blues

I was rummaging around on my hard-drive when I spotted and old crumpled up piece of paper over there in the corner. For some reason it triggered a memory. Don’t know why, but it did. So I sort of sideways crawled over there, like one does when one isn’t sure just how to proceed, and took a closer look. Sniffed it – musty. Poked it a few times – didn’t poke back.

So I took ahold of it and backed out into the light. I unfolded it very carefully, laid it on the desktop and smoothed out the wrinkles as much as I could, and there it was, “The Authentic High Tech Computer Blues” by my old buddy, Blind Willie, the Danish Space Laser. I know what you must be thinking, that’s an awfully strange moniker for a genuine died in the wool bluesman, but that’s Blind Willie for you, always ahead of the game.

It’s out of date, the words that is. Judging from the allusions it must have been written in the mid-1990s or so. But the spirit seems right for the current times. I suppose I should annotate them, but what’s the point? Somehow a blues with footnotes seems a bit much.

I offer it to you in all its faded glory:

The Authentic High Tech Computer Blues

by Blind Willie B, aka the Danish Space Laser


I woke up in the mornin, with a pain in my brain,
Wondrin’ what's happ’nin’ with the latest bombed plane.
I talked to my terminal to find out the score,
It said, “Your account's used up, can’t give you no more.”
	I got the computer blues,
	AOL says “Pay your dues.”

I go down to the office, and I see my new boss,
She says to me, “I want to know the quarter's profit and loss.”
So I go to the computer and start punchin’ the keys,
But the screen's all screwy and don't listen to my pleas.
	I got the computer blues,
	Lotus says “Pay your dues.”

It's the middle of the mornin,’ and I'm taking my break,
When my secretary screams so loud “My God for Heaven's sake,
The disks have been messed with, all covered with glue,
The contracts are needed or the client will sue.”
	I got the computer blues,
	IBM says, “You gotta pay your dues.”

The clock says it's noon,  my mind’s out to lunch,
My taxman gives me tons of numbers to crunch.
But the forms don’t fit and the data’s too old,
The programs are buggy and covered with mold.
	I got the computer blues,
	IRS says “Information’s heavy dues.”

As the day moves on and it’s time for my shrink,
The pace gets so frantic I can't hear myself think.
I wonder about Sigmund and his lust for his mom,
But what about Ronnie and his Star Wars bomb?
	I got the computer blues,
	Online Shrink says “You must, you gotta pay your dues.”

Evening comes on and the sun’s movin’ down,
My eyes become crossed and I look like a clown.
Apple won’t talk to me and th’ Radar Oven’s not workin’ right,
My Brainy Blender’s called an appliance strike.
	I got the computer blues,
	C3PO tells me “Pay your dues.”

It's late at night and I’m almost asleep,
When my sweet mama she begin to weep.
She stroked and stroked and I tried and tried,
But I couldn't get it up, computer's got me twisted inside.
	“You got the computer blues,
	You gotta fuck them dues.”

I'm in a dream and I’m flying high,
When I look down below and feel through my thigh,
The water's turned red and the wolves are sheep,
The poles are melting and the continents don't creep.
	I got the computer blues,
	No more time, no more dues.

* * * * * *

Perhaps Blind Willie had a hand in these as well: For Barack Hussein Obama, who was once upon a time The Prez [It's 1619 all over again] and Cultural Style: Software, Jamming & #DH.