Title    : What is a Hacker?
Original : What is a DJ?
Group    : Spike Jones
Author   : Russell Street <russells@ccu1.aukuni.ac.nz>
Intro    : [longish - sth]

Sometime ago I recorded from a radio programme a Spike Jones
recording "What is a DJ?".  I think it was recorded in the
50's -- it includes a reference to televison advertising stealing
from radio.

It has only recently occured to me that it is perfect for
adapting to describe the "hacker".  Above is my first
attempt to do this, along with the original (below)
Unfortunately I can not find out who actually wrote it or when.
The only information that the announcer gave was that it was
a Spike Jones recording, and it was only released once.

I have only changed the words to suit computer ideas,
keeping with the original flow, patterns and concepts.
Any suggestions this could improve this are welcomed.


The original recording has some organ music that flows with
and emphasis the way it is read.  It is difficult to reproduce
this in text.  Most of this is to do with the speed at which
it is spoken.


The original:


What is a DJ?
-------------

Between the commercialism of the sponsor, and the innocence
of the radio audience we find a delightful creature called
the Disc Jockey.

Disc Jockeys come in assorted sizes, weights and colours. But
all disc Jockeys have the same creed: to fill every minute of
every hour of every day with records and commercials. And to
protest with noise, their only weapon, when the last programme
has finished and the radio sponsor switches his interest to
television.

Disc Jockeys are found everywhere -- radio stations, golf courses,
advertising agencies, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging
from, running away to, on top of **OLD SMOKY**.

Mothers ignore them, little girls don't understand them,
older sisters tolerate them, adults HA!  Heaven and the
advertising agencies protect them.

A disc jockey is truth with a script in his hand, beauty with
a bloodshot voice, wisdom with a cut of the profits, and the
hope of the sponsor with a frog in his throat.

When you are busy a disc jockey is a inconsiderate, bothersome,
intruding jangle of noise.  When you want him to play a beautiful
melodic record his brain turns to jelly. Or else he becomes
a savage sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying his Hooper
rating and himself with a brass band playing into an echo chamber.

A disc jockey is a composite.  He has the brain of an adding
machine, the ulcers of a banker, the persistency of an
auctioneer, the diction of a train announcer, the subtlety of
a meat cleaver, and when he has to put a record on the turn-table
by himself he has five thumbs on each hand! <CRASH>

He likes free albums, swimming pools, Dixieland records,
cadallics, money, sponsors (in their natural habitat), free passes
and the girl-across-the-street.

He is not much for music, song sloggers, other disc Jockeys,
the sales department, engineers, and the girl-across-the-street's
husband.

Nobody else is so early to rise or to late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of old joke books, loud records,
fan mail and females.  Nobody else can cram into one half hour
so many commercials about soap, falling hair, toothpaste,
deodorant, non-skid tyres and a large chunk of unknown substance.

A disc jockey is a magical creature. You can turn him off your
radio but you can't turn him off your neighbour's radio.  You
can get him out of your mind, but you can't get him out of the
air.  He's a bleary-eyed, syrup-voiced, fast-talking, bundle
of noise.

But, when you wake up in the morning with only the shattered
pieces of your sleep and dreams he can make you wish you'd never
been born with the two magic words:

			    GOOD MORNING!

Song     :

What is a Hacker? (version 1.01)
-----------------

Adapted by Russell Street (russells@ccu1.aukuni.ac.nz)


Between the commericalism of the MSIS department, and the
innocence of the Real User we find a delightful creature
called the Computer Hacker.

Hackers come in assorted sizes, weights and colours. But
all hackers have the same creed: to fill every byte of
every disk of every machine with source code and old news.
And to protest with flames, their only weapon, when the last
process is KILLed and the computer centre switches to a
"better" computer.

Hackers are found everywhere -- univerities, colleges,
corporations, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging
from, running away to, on top of **VAXen**.

Management ignores them, secretaries don't understand them,
Customer Support tolerate them, administrators HA!  Heaven
and the greatful user protect them.

A hacker is intelligence with a head ache, elegance with
a core dump, daring with a secure backup, and the hope of
the admin with the root password.

When you are busy a hacker is a inconsiderate, bothersome,
intruding, resource hogging process.  When you want him to
solve your problem his brain turns to jelly. Or else he
becomes a savage sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying
his reputation and your data with a misplaced 'rm -r'.

A hacker is a composite.  He has the brain of a adding
machine, the stealth of a thief, the percistancy of a tiger,
the resourcefulness of cracker, the subtetly of a meat cleaver.
And when he has to put a tape in a drive by himself he has
five thumbs on each hand! <CRASH>

He likes USENET access, e-mail, source code, nethack, money,
admins (in their natural habitat), free accounts and the
new-girl-in-the-operator's-room.

He is not much for paper work, code grinders, other hackers
on his machine, the MSIS department, dummy money, and the
new-girl-in-the-operator's-room's husband.

Nobody else is so late to rise or to late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of old news files, loud
records, junk food and females.  Nobody else can cram into
one half hour so many requests for restores, bulk chowning,
increased disk space, more processer time, faster CPUs and
a large chunk of unknown substance.

A hacker is a magical creature. You can kick him off your
terminal but you can't kick him off your neighbour's terminal.
You can get him out of your mind, but you can't get him out of the
batch queue.  He's a bleary-eyed, syrup-voiced, fast-talking, bundle
of keystrokes.

But, when you are editing, with only the shattered pieces of working
code backed up, he can make you wish you'd saved sooner with the two
magic words:

			    SYSTEM CRASH!

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