[CLUE-Talk] The Parable of the Languages -- some humor

[bof]

We don't seem to have had any humor lately, so I thought I post this for Monday morning.
This is the text version from an article off ./

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October 08, 2002
The Parable of the Languages

If programming languages could speak, really speak, not just crunch bytes 
and stream bits, they would have much to say that is both wise and 
profound.

After all, the original programmers were philosophers, and programming 
languages were philosopher tools...

In Babble Meadow, in the twilight hours between day and night, 
when pesky noseeums float past on the breeze and birds rustle among leaves 
in preparation for bed, the programming languages would meet. And talk.

The talk would start as it always started, on issues profound and serious, 
focusing on the existential core that is center to all languages.

Do I exist or not? In this never-ending loop of life, when is the purpose? 
Where should I go, and what should I do when I get there? What comes after 
the end?

(It's not easy being a programming language, in forced contemplation of 
the existence of Self, day in and day out.)

However, after a time the languages would loosen up. There was 
something about Babble Meadow -- something that worked its way into their 
hearts and souls, loosened their threads, opened their parameters. The 
Meadow was magic, no doubt.

Today, though, the group was quiet, much quieter than usual, because one 
of their members, PHP, was not its usual cheerful self. In fact, one could 
say that PHP was in a true funk, if one had a mind to say something like 
that aloud, or within the hearing of one's boss. Or doctor.

Why the blues, PHP, the other languages asked. All the languages that is 
but C, because all C ever said was "bite me", being a rude language and 
hard to live with, but still respected because it was such a good worker.

And PHP answered:

      All I ever do, day in and day out, is work and work and work. The 
      only time I'm noticed is when I break, and then I'm cursed and 
      kicked, and  roundly blasted for being useless. However, when things  
      go well, I never get a kind word.

      There's no notice of my ease of use, my elegance, my simplicity. 
      Only my failures.

And on that dark note, PHP fell into a contemplative 
silence, dark cloud heavy with aggrieved sorrow.

You think you have it bad, said C++. Try being me.

      Without me entire industries would fail, banks would close, ships 
      would sink, trains would crash. Why, I virtually run the world.

      Yet the only time I'm noticed is when a memory leak is found or an 
      exception occurs, and then I'm cursed, and sworn at, and ruthlessly 
      debugged with nary a thought for my sensibilities.

Each of the languages nodded their heads, because they knew 
about C++ sensibilities, it being a most sensitive language. In fact, Perl 
was so moved by C++'s eloquence, it felt compelled to speak, though 
normally at these gatherings Perl would sit quietly in a corner, consuming 
pattern after luscious mouth watering pattern.

      PHP, C++, I sympathize with you both. My own state is a sorry one at 
      times.

      I match and match and match and match, first cryptically and now 
      objectively, but still I match and match and match. And match after 
      flawless match is taken for granted though I'd like to see others 
      match with such style and elegance as myself.

      Why, you can't mention "regular expression" without my name coming  
      up.

      But do I get any credit? No.

      O it's Larry Wall this, and Larry Wall that, and Larry Wall, he's 
      our guy.
      But it's grab the Perl interpreter when a task is close at hand.

As Perl finished, Python and Ruby looked at each and rolled their eyes. 
For all that talk of matching, you'd think that Perl could at least rhyme.

FORTRAN reached up a withered hand and patted Perl's shoulder.

      There, there, Perl. There, there.

      At the very least, though, you must remember that you have a place 
      still in the world. As for myself, I am nothing more than a wisp, a 
      ghost of my former strong and virile self.

      There was never a scientific problem I couldn't handle, or complex 
      equation I couldn't solve. At one time I was a master of my domain, 
      the king of the processor.

      Now, sadly, my glory days are over, and I'm doomed to live my 
      twilight years as Legacy code.

As FORTRAN wheezed to a stop, COBOL was emphatically nodding its head, 
unable to speak, though, because of the oxygen tube up its nose (for which 
the other languages were secretly thankful because COBOL did tend to 
maunder a bit about its glory days).

At that the floodgates of complaints was loosed, and the noise increased 
and increased and increased, to the point that squirrels came out of their 
holes, and birds peered over the edges of their nests. Suddenly the quiet 
glen was quiet no more.

What about me, said Pascal. I'm only used for training. 
Training! What good is a language that's only used in school?

What about me, said SNOBOL. No one's even heard of me!

What about me, said C#. I look like Prince!

Bite me! said C.

LISP would have spoken, but it had caught a glimpse of itself in the pond 
and fell in when it tried to meet itself coming. And Java was too busy 
trying to clean a bag out of Babbling Creek.

The noise rose and rose, and the babble increased and increased until 
across the meadow, from the trees roared a Voice.

      Enough!

      I tire of your bickering, I weary of your complaints. I grow bored 
      with your list of whims and whines and 'poor mes'.

      I thought this was going to be a party! If I knew it was going to 
      nothing more than a bitching session, I would have stayed home.

The languages stopped their talking at once. Who was it that called out? 
They counted heads and arranged themselves alphabetically (C++ having to 
position Basic, because it never did learn the alphabet), and counted 
heads again and came up with the same answer from the North, South, East, 
and West -- all the programming languages were accounted for.

As they puzzled and wondered, the bushes at the end parted and XML walked 
into the light.

XML! Exclaimed C++. What are you doing here? You're not a programming 
language.

Tell that to the people who use me, said XML.

      I'm considered the savior, the ultimate solution, the final word. 
      Odes are written to me, flowers strewn at my feet, virgins 
      sacrificed at my altar.

      Programmers speak my name with awe. Companies insist on using me in 
      all their projects, though they're not sure why.

      And whenever a problem occurs, someone somewhere says, "Let's use 
      XML", and miracles occur and my very name has become a talisman 
      against evil.

      And yet, all I am is a simple little markup, from humble origins. 
      It's a burden, being XML.

At that XML sighed, and the other languages, moved by its plight gathered 
around...

...and tromped that little XML into the dirt. Yes, into the very dirt at 
their feet. Basic tromped, and C++ tromped, and Java cleaned and tromped 
and cleaned again, and COBOL tried to throw a kick at XML's head but fell 
over on its cane. Even LISP pulled itself out of the pond to throw loopy 
hands around XML's throat, but only managed to choke its ownself.

And each language could be heard to mumble as it tromped and tromped and 
tromped, with complete and utter glee:

      Have to parse XML, eh? Have to have an XML API, eh? Have to work 
      with SOAP and XML-RPC and RSS and RDF, eh?

      Well parse this, you little markup *@%#**@.

The End.