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www/fun/jokes hakawatha.html
|
From: |
Yavor Doganov |
|
Subject: |
www/fun/jokes hakawatha.html |
|
Date: |
Tue, 24 Nov 2009 14:34:11 +0000 |
CVSROOT: /web/www
Module name: www
Changes by: Yavor Doganov <yavor> 09/11/24 14:34:11
Modified files:
fun/jokes : hakawatha.html
Log message:
Use the `lyrics' class.
CVSWeb URLs:
http://web.cvs.savannah.gnu.org/viewcvs/www/fun/jokes/hakawatha.html?cvsroot=www&r1=1.8&r2=1.9
Patches:
Index: hakawatha.html
===================================================================
RCS file: /web/www/www/fun/jokes/hakawatha.html,v
retrieving revision 1.8
retrieving revision 1.9
diff -u -b -r1.8 -r1.9
--- hakawatha.html 5 Nov 2008 00:45:28 -0000 1.8
+++ hakawatha.html 24 Nov 2009 14:34:04 -0000 1.9
@@ -1,331 +1,329 @@
<!--#include virtual="/server/header.html" -->
-
<title>HAKAWATHA - GNU Project - Free Software Foundation (FSF)</title>
-
<!--#include virtual="/server/banner.html" -->
-
<h2>HAKAWATHA</h2>
-<pre>
-HAKAWATHA
+<blockquote>
+<div class="lyrics">
+<p>HAKAWATHA</p>
+
+<p>with apologies to H.W. Longfellow</p>
+
+<p>First, he sat and faced the console<br />
+Faced the glowing, humming console<br />
+Typed his login at the keyboard<br />
+Typed his password (fourteen letters)<br />
+Waited till the system answered<br />
+Waited long and cursed its slowness<br />
+(Oh, that irritating slowness —<br />
+Like a mollusc with lumbago)<br />
+Waited for what seemed like hours<br />
+Till the operating system<br />
+Printed out the latest whinings<br />
+From the man called “superuser” —<br />
+Moanings that some third year students<br />
+Played adventure games at lunchtimes,<br />
+Moanings the the Disc was nearly<br />
+(VERY nearly) full to bursting,<br />
+Growling that he wouldn't take it<br />
+Screaming that he'd get his own back<br />
+By deleting peoples' discfiles.</p>
+
+<p>Next, came Hakawatha's “fortune”<br />
+(Didn't find it very funny)<br />
+Then from “mailer” took a letter<br />
+From a fellow network hacker<br />
+(Who had penetrated ARPA<br />
+All the way to Greenham Common —<br />
+Though his prowling through the filestore<br />
+Hadn't pleases the US Airforce —<br />
+So this friend, this network hacker,<br />
+Had to flee to Argentina<br />
+Where he works on simulations<br />
+Simulations of their army's<br />
+Capture of the Falkland Islands).</p>
+
+<p>Finally, my Hakawatha<br />
+Started to type in a program.<br />
+First, he thought for many minutes<br />
+What the Devil he should call it<br />
+So that later he'd remember<br />
+What it did and why he wrote it,<br />
+Thought for many, many minutes,<br />
+Thought too long, because the system<br />
+timed him out for doing nothing<br />
+Timed him out and warned him sternly<br />
+(Like an irate bus inspector<br />
+While you fumble for your ticket<br />
+When you could have SWORN you'd put it<br />
+Safely in an inside pocket).</p>
+
+<p>So the wretched Hakawatha<br />
+Had to start from the beginning<br />
+Type the login and the password —<br />
+Found the system even slower<br />
+Even slower than the first time<br />
+(Just as though some evil spirit<br />
+Had reprogrammed all of Unix<br />
+In the language LISP or OCCAM —<br />
+Which among the cognoscenti<br />
+Are not famed for running quickly<br />
+Rather for their ponderous slowness<br />
+Like a third year CS student<br />
+Trying to make out a theorem<br />
+Such as that of Church and Rosser).<br />
+After many, many minutes<br />
+After risking death from boredom<br />
+On the screen, my Hakawatha<br />
+Saw a message from the Network<br />
+Saying there were no free consoles,<br />
+Telling him to just forget it,<br />
+Telling him to come back later<br />
+(Say, two-thirty in the morning<br />
+Preferably a Sunday morning,<br />
+Sunday, in the long vacation).</p>
+
+<p>But at this, my Hakawatha<br />
+spoke in language full of fury:<br />
+“I would rather write in COBOL<br />
+On a Sinclair ZX80!”<br />
+Thus, the Gods heard Hakawatha<br />
+Heard the Thunder of his anger<br />
+Heard him damn the “superuser”<br />
+To a post in Social Science<br />
+Heard him damn the Network to be<br />
+Slowly boiled in caustic soda<br />
+Heard him curse the sort of people<br />
+Who use LISP instead of Ada<br />
+(Ada is a complex language<br />
+Copyright, Defence Department<br />
+It has got a formal syntax<br />
+Rather longer than the Bible<br />
+But semantically there's nothing<br />
+But informal chitter-chatter.<br />
+Reader! Use it at your peril!)</p>
+
+<p>And the Gods took pity on him<br />
+(Though they quite deplored the language<br />
+Quite deplored the filthy language<br />
+Utilised by Hakawatha)<br />
+Brought about a console failure<br />
+Of some wimp in Economics<br />
+Freed a line so he could use it<br />
+Made his screen display a message:<br />
+“Sorry, we were only joking<br />
+Please log in and type your password<br />
+We'll be with you in a jiffy.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus assuaged did Hakawatha<br />
+Type his login and his password<br />
+Read again the Jeremiads<br />
+Of the manic “superuser”<br />
+Read his fortune (still not funny)<br />
+And prepared to type his program.<br />
+Still, alas, my Hakawatha<br />
+had no notion what to call it<br />
+What to call this wretched program<br />
+So that he'd remember later<br />
+What it did and why he wrote it<br />
+But the dreaded timeout th=eatened<br />
+So to save himself from bother<br />
+He just called it “program 7”<br />
+Not a name that had much meaning<br />
+Signifying nearly nothing<br />
+— Though it has the real advantage<br />
+That it fits in with this metre)<br />
+Meaning to <tt>mv</tt> it later<br />
+When he'd though of something lYeditor he entered<br />
+Hakawatha then typed quickly<br />
+Very, very, VERY quickly<br />
+Swifter than a third-year student<br />
+Trying to avoid his tutor<br />
+Swifter than a “Sun” ‘reporter’<br />
+On the track of something smutty<br />
+Like an eagle flew his fingers<br />
+Only pausing several moments<br />
+While he taxed his recollection<br />
+For his algorithm's details<br />
+These he knew but only vaguely<br />
+(As the mists that on the sunrise<br />
+Cloak the lofty mountian summit<br />
+As the blur that s-nd-rs printers<br />
+Make instead of underlining<br />
+As the third year students' notio<br />n
+Of the proof of Turing's Theorem)</p>
+
+<p>These deliberations ended<br />
+Hakawatha typed yet faster<br />
+Missing quotes and semicolons<br />
+Missing many closing brackets<br />
+(Comments, these he left for later<br />
+Till he understood his program<br />
+Understood what he'd been doing)<br />
+Confident that the compiler<br />
+Would pick up the syntax errors<br />
+Thus, the program grew like wildfire<br />
+Like the spread of some contagious<br />
+Malady, like AIDS or BASIC<br />
+Or as miners ceased their striking<br />
+In the reign of Arthur Scargill.</p>
+
+<p>Hakawatha typed like fury<br />
+Clatter, clatter went the keyboard<br />
+Like a set of manic dentures<br />
+So the morning, so the lunchtime,<br />
+So the afternoon receded<br />
+Like the superuser's hairline<br />
+When beset by third year students<br />
+All intent to learn his password<br />
+Till at last the stars were twinkling<br />
+Till at last the pubs were open<br />
+Till Security, reminded<br />
+Tapped upon his door and warned him<br />
+“Sorry, sir, but all late workers
+Have to sign the sign-in book, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>Even then, my Hakawatha<br />
+Hardly heard what he was saying<br />
+Very red and glazed his eyes were<br />
+Cramped and aching were his fingers<br />
+Void and rumbling was his stomach<br />
+Cold and sweaty was his forehead<br />
+Warm and humming was the console<br />
+Like a cow with indigestion<br />
+Thanked Security and told him<br />
+That he'd do it “in a minute”<br />
+That he'd “totally forgotten<br />
+All that bureaucratic nonsense<br />
+In the white-heat of creation”<br />
+Asked to warn him if the building<br />
+Burnt down in the next few minutes<br />
+Thanked him for his “kind attention”</p>
+
+<p>Then, ignoring him completely,<br />
+Turned again and hit the keyboard<br />
+With his swift and able fingers<br />
+Till at last the night lay heavy<br />
+Till at last the pubs were closing<br />
+Till at last the job was finished.</p>
+
+<p>Next my Hakawatha summoned<br />
+The appropriate compiler<br />
+Asking it to take his program<br />
+And attempt its execution<br />
+Listing any syntax errors —<br />
+Should by any chance there be some —<br />
+In a file that he called “errors”<br />
+(Stunning was the inovation<br />
+Vouchsafed by this choice of naming)<br />
+Asked it please to run in background.</p>
+
+<p>Swiftly grew the file named “errors”<br />
+Till it seemed to grow much larger<br />
+Than the file called “program 7”<br />
+Larger was the file named “errors”<br />
+Larger than the largest mountain<br />
+Larger than the cost of Trident<br />
+Larger than the monstrous ego<br />
+Of that God whom men name D--kstr-<br />
+Larger even than the software<br />
+People call the Unix mailer<br />
+(Though, perhaps, exaggeration,<br />
+Or that licence named poetic<br />
+Leads me to commit an error<br />
+Since we know the Unix mailer<br />
+To be bigger and more faulty<br />
+Than the liner named Titanic)</p>
+
+<p>Worried now grew Hakawatha<br />
+Tride to kill the background process<br />
+Tried to bring it to the foreground<br />
+Tried to say to the compiler<br />
+“That'll do, guv, for the moment”<br />
+All unheedingly the process<br />
+Gobbled bytes like no-one's business<br />
+Till it seemed as though the system<br />
+Would collapse from sheer exhaustion<br />
+>From the quantity of page swops<br />
+Needed by this tireless process.</p>
+
+<p>Desperate grew Hakawatha<br />
+Vivid, yet again, his curses<br />
+Purpled the attendant shadows.<br />
+Thus the Gods heard Hakawatha<br />
+Listened in to the bad language<br />
+Thought that they had better stop it<br />
+Firmly told the Unix system<br />
+Firmly, to stop all its nonsense<br />
+Firmly, to abort the process.</p>
+
+<p>Now, this program had a pointer<br />
+Pointing to a record union<br />
+Pointing sometimes to a REAL<br />
+Or an INTEGER or BOOLEAN<br />
+Pointing sometimes to a pointer<br />
+To ARRAY of FILE of RECORD<br />
+Each of which in turn had pointers<br />
+Each of which, in mad recursion,<br />
+Pointed madly at each other<br />
+(Like a crowd of Sunday tabloids<br />
+Pointing the accusing finger<br />
+At each other's lack of morals<br />
+Like a crowd of left-wing students<br />
+All accusing one another<br />
+Of revisionistic leanings)</p>
+
+<p>In this mess of pure confusion<br />
+(with what seemed to Hakawatha<br />
+At the time a stroke of genius<br />
+But which now he couldn't clearly<br />
+Understand why he had done it)<br />
+He had placed a simple statement<br />
+Placed a simple-looking statement<br />
+Re-assigning the FIRST pointer<br />
+To some other, and he couldn't<br />
+QUITE remember where he'd put it,<br />
+Felt that this might be the reason<br />
+Why his program wasn't working<br />
+Wasn't doing what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>This occasioned some frustration<br />
+Caused the noble Hakawatha<br />
+To commit profane expletives<br />
+Caused him to cry out “Debug her!”<br />
+(Or, I THINK that's what he shouted).<br />
+“There are easier methods, surely,<br />
+Methods for the computation<br />
+Computation of factorial!<br />
+Stuff this for a game of soldiers!<br />
+I am going to the staff club<br />
+For a pint of Romfords' Glory!”</p>
-with apologies to
-H.W. Longfellow
+<p>Thus departed Hakawatha.</p>
+</div>
-First, he sat and faced the console
-Faced the glowing, humming console
-Typed his login at the keyboard
-Typed his password (fourteen letters)
-Waited till the system answered
-Waited long and cursed its slowness
-(Oh, that irritating slowness -
-Like a mollusc with lumbago)
-Waited for what seemed like hours
-Till the operating system
-Printed out the latest whinings
-From the man called "superuser" -
-Moanings that some third year students
-Played adventure games at lunchtimes,
-Moanings the the Disc was nearly
-(VERY nearly) full to bursting,
-Growling that he wouldn't take it
-Screaming that he'd get his own back
-By deleting peoples' discfiles.
-
-Next, came Hakawatha's "fortune"
-(Didn't find it very funny)
-Then from "mailer" took a letter
-From a fellow network hacker
-(Who had penetrated ARPA
-All the way to Greenham Common -
-Though his prowling through the filestore
-Hadn't pleases the US Airforce -
-So this friend, this network hacker,
-Had to flee to Argentina
-Where he works on simulations
-Simulations of their army's
-Capture of the Falkland Islands).
-
-Finally, my Hakawatha
-Started to type in a program.
-First, he thought for many minutes
-What the Devil he should call it
-So that later he'd remember
-What it did and why he wrote it,
-Thought for many, many minutes,
-Thought too long, because the system
-timed him out for doing nothing
-Timed him out and warned him sternly
-(Like an irate bus inspector
-While you fumble for your ticket
-When you could have SWORN you'd put it
-Safely in an inside pocket).
-
-So the wretched Hakawatha
-Had to start from the beginning
-Type the login and the password -
-Found the system even slower
-Even slower than the first time
-(Just as though some evil spirit
-Had reprogrammed all of Unix
-In the language LISP or OCCAM -
-Which among the cognoscenti
-Are not famed for running quickly
-Rather for their ponderous slowness
-Like a third year CS student
-Trying to make out a theorem
-Such as that of Church and Rosser).
-After many, many minutes
-After risking death from boredom
-On the screen, my Hakawatha
-Saw a message from the Network
-Saying there were no free consoles,
-Telling him to just forget it,
-Telling him to come back later
-(Say, two-thirty in the morning
-Preferably a Sunday morning,
-Sunday, in the long vacation).
-
-But at this, my Hakawatha
-spoke in language full of fury:
-"I would rather write in COBOL
-On a Sinclair ZX80!"
-Thus, the Gods heard Hakawatha
-Heard the Thunder of his anger
-Heard him damn the "superuser"
-To a post in Social Science
-Heard him damn the Network to be
-Slowly boiled in caustic soda
-Heard him curse the sort of people
-Who use LISP instead of Ada
-(Ada is a complex language
-Copyright, Defence Department
-It has got a formal syntax
-Rather longer than the Bible
-But semantically there's nothing
-But informal chitter-chatter.
-Reader! Use it at your peril!)
-
-And the Gods took pity on him
-(Though they quite deplored the language
-Quite deplored the filthy language
-Utilised by Hakawatha)
-Brought about a console failure
-Of some wimp in Economics
-Freed a line so he could use it
-Made his screen display a message:
-"Sorry, we were only joking
-Please log in and type your password
-We'll be with you in a jiffy."
-
-Thus assuaged did Hakawatha
-Type his login and his password
-Read again the Jeremiads
-Of the manic "superuser"
-Read his fortune (still not funny)
-And prepared to type his program.
-Still, alas, my Hakawatha
-had no notion what to call it
-What to call this wretched program
-So that he'd remember later
-What it did and why he wrote it
-But the dreaded timeout th=eatened
-So to save himself from bother
-He just called it "program 7"
-Not a name that had much meaning
-Signifying nearly nothing
-- Though it has the real advantage
-That it fits in with this metre)
-Meaning to "mv" it later
-When he'd though of something lYeditor he entered
-Hakawatha then typed quickly
-Very, very, VERY quickly
-Swifter than a third-year student
-Trying to avoid his tutor
-Swifter than a "Sun" `reporter'
-On the track of something smutty
-Like an eagle flew his fingers
-Only pausing several moments
-While he taxed his recollection
-For his algorithm's details
-These he knew but only vaguely
-(As the mists that on the sunrise
-Cloak the lofty mountian summit
-As the blur that s-nd-rs printers
-Make instead of underlining
-As the third year students' notion
-Of the proof of Turing's Theorem)
-
-These deliberations ended
-Hakawatha typed yet faster
-Missing quotes and semicolons
-Missing many closing brackets
-(Comments, these he left for later
-Till he understood his program
-Understood what he'd been doing)
-Confident that the compiler
-Would pick up the syntax errors
-Thus, the program grew like wildfire
-Like the spread of some contagious
-Malady, like AIDS or BASIC
-Or as miners ceased their striking
-In the reign of Arthur Scargill.
-
-Hakawatha typed like fury
-Clatter, clatter went the keyboard
-Like a set of manic dentures
-So the morning, so the lunchtime,
-So the afternoon receded
-Like the superuser's hairline
-When beset by third year students
-All intent to learn his password
-Till at last the stars were twinkling
-Till at last the pubs were open
-Till Security, reminded
-Tapped upon his door and warned him
-"Sorry, sir, but all late workers
-Have to sign the sign-in book, sir."
-
-Even then, my Hakawatha
-Hardly heard what he was saying
-Very red and glazed his eyes were
-Cramped and aching were his fingers
-Void and rumbling was his stomach
-Cold and sweaty was his forehead
-Warm and humming was the console
-Like a cow with indigestion
-Thanked Security and told him
-That he'd do it "in a minute"
-That he'd "totally forgotten
-All that bureaucratic nonsense
-In the white-heat of creation"
-Asked to warn him if the building
-Burnt down in the next few minutes
-Thanked him for his "kind attention"
-
-Then, ignoring him completely,
-Turned again and hit the keyboard
-With his swift and able fingers
-Till at last the night lay heavy
-Till at last the pubs were closing
-Till at last the job was finished.
-
-Next my Hakawatha summoned
-The appropriate compiler
-Asking it to take his program
-And attempt its execution
-Listing any syntax errors -
-Should by any chance there be some -
-In a file that he called "errors"
-(Stunning was the inovation
-Vouchsafed by this choice of naming)
-Asked it please to run in background.
-
-Swiftly grew the file named "errors"
-Till it seemed to grow much larger
-Than the file called "program 7"
-Larger was the file named "errors"
-Larger than the largest mountain
-Larger than the cost of Trident
-Larger than the monstrous ego
-Of that God whom men name D--kstr-
-Larger even than the software
-People call the Unix mailer
-(Though, perhaps, exaggeration,
-Or that licence named poetic
-Leads me to commit an error
-Since we know the Unix mailer
-To be bigger and more faulty
-Than the liner named Titanic)
-
-Worried now grew Hakawatha
-Tride to kill the background process
-Tried to bring it to the foreground
-Tried to say to the compiler
-"That'll do, guv, for the moment"
-All unheedingly the process
-Gobbled bytes like no-one's business
-Till it seemed as though the system
-Would collapse from sheer exhaustion
->From the quantity of page swops
-Needed by this tireless process.
-
-Desperate grew Hakawatha
-Vivid, yet again, his curses
-Purpled the attendant shadows.
-Thus the Gods heard Hakawatha
-Listened in to the bad language
-Thought that they had better stop it
-Firmly told the Unix system
-Firmly, to stop all its nonsense
-Firmly, to abort the process.
-
-Now, this program had a pointer
-Pointing to a record union
-Pointing sometimes to a REAL
-Or an INTEGER or BOOLEAN
-Pointing sometimes to a pointer
-To ARRAY of FILE of RECORD
-Each of which in turn had pointers
-Each of which, in mad recursion,
-Pointed madly at each other
-(Like a crowd of Sunday tabloids
-Pointing the accusing finger
-At each other's lack of morals
-Like a crowd of left-wing students
-All accusing one another
-Of revisionistic leanings)
-
-In this mess of pure confusion
-(with what seemed to Hakawatha
-At the time a stroke of genius
-But which now he couldn't clearly
-Understand why he had done it)
-He had placed a simple statement
-Placed a simple-looking statement
-Re-assigning the FIRST pointer
-To some other, and he couldn't
-QUITE remember where he'd put it,
-Felt that this might be the reason
-Why his program wasn't working
-Wasn't doing what he wanted.
-
-This occasioned some frustration
-Caused the noble Hakawatha
-To commit profane expletives
-Caused him to cry out "Debug her!"
-(Or, I THINK that's what he shouted).
-"There are easier methods, surely,
-Methods for the computation
-Computation of factorial!
-Stuff this for a game of soldiers!
-I am going to the staff club
-For a pint of Romfords' Glory!"
-
-Thus departed Hakawatha.
-
-
-Hope you like it
-
-Paul Boyd
-
---
-Submitted by Paul Boyd.
-
-Not sure where this came from, i've had it around for well
-over 10 years now
-</pre>
+<p>Hope you like it</p>
-<p>
-<a href="/fun/humor.html">Other humor</a>
-in the GNU Humor Collection.</p>
+<p>Paul Boyd</p>
+
+<p>—<br />
+Submitted by Paul Boyd.</p>
-<div class="infobox">
-<h4 id="Disclaimer">Disclaimer</h4><p>The joke on this page was
-obtained from the FSF's <a href="http://lists.gnu.org/";>email
-archives</a> of the GNU Project.</p>
+<p>Not sure where this came from, i've had it around for well over 10
+years now</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>This joke is also available in <a href="/fun/jokes/haka">plain
+text</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="/fun/humor.html">Other humor</a> in the GNU Humor
+Collection.</p>
+
+<h4 id="Disclaimer">Disclaimer</h4>
+<p>The joke on this page was obtained from the
+FSF's <a href="http://lists.gnu.org/";>email archives</a> of the GNU
+Project.</p>
<p>The Free Software Foundation claims no copyright on this joke.</p>
-</div>
</div>
@@ -334,25 +332,23 @@
<div id="footer">
<p>
Please send FSF & GNU inquiries to
-<a href="mailto:address@hidden";><em>address@hidden</em></a>. There are
-also <a href="http://www.fsf.org/about/contact.html";>other ways to
-contact</a> the FSF.
+<a href="mailto:address@hidden";><address@hidden></a>. There are
+also <a href="/contact/">other ways to contact</a> the FSF.
<br />
-Please send broken links and other corrections (or suggestions) to
-<a href="mailto:address@hidden";><em>address@hidden</em></a>.
+Please send broken links and other corrections or suggestions to
+<a href="mailto:address@hidden";><address@hidden></a>.
</p>
<p>
Please see the
<a href="/server/standards/README.translations.html">Translations
-README</a> for information on coordinating and submitting
-translations of this article.
+README</a> for information on coordinating and submitting translations
+of this article.
</p>
-<p>
-Updated:
+<p>Updated:
<!-- timestamp start -->
-$Date: 2008/11/05 00:45:28 $
+$Date: 2009/11/24 14:34:04 $
<!-- timestamp end -->
</p>
</div>
@@ -360,24 +356,25 @@
<div id="translations">
<h4>Translations of this page</h4>
- <!-- Please keep this list alphabetical, and in the original -->
- <!-- language if possible, otherwise default to English -->
- <!-- If you do not have it English, please comment what the -->
- <!-- English is. If you add a new language here, please -->
- <!-- advise address@hidden and add it to -->
- <!-- - in /home/www/bin/nightly-vars either TAGSLANG or WEBLANG -->
- <!-- - in /home/www/html/server/standards/README.translations.html -->
- <!-- one of the lists under the section "Translations Underway" -->
- <!-- - if there is a translation team, you also have to add an alias -->
- <!-- to mail.gnu.org:/com/mailer/aliases -->
- <!-- Please also check you have the 2 letter language code right versus -->
- <!-- http://www.w3.org/WAI/ER/IG/ert/iso639.htm -->
+<!-- Please keep this list alphabetical by language code.
+ Comment what the language is for each type, i.e. de is German.
+ Write the language name in its own language (Deutsch) in the text.
+ If you add a new language here, please
+ advise address@hidden and add it to
+ - /home/www/html/server/standards/README.translations.html
+ - one of the lists under the section "Translations Underway"
+ - if there is a translation team, you also have to add an alias
+ to mail.gnu.org:/com/mailer/aliases
+ Please also check you have the language code right; see:
+ http://www.loc.gov/standards/iso639-2/php/code_list.php
+ If the 2-letter ISO 639-1 code is not available,
+ use the 3-letter ISO 639-2.
+ Please use W3C normative character entities. -->
<ul class="translations-list">
<!-- English -->
<li><a href="/fun/jokes/hakawatha.html">English</a> [en]</li>
</ul>
-
</div>
</div>
</body>
- www/fun/jokes hakawatha.html,
Yavor Doganov <=