Choose no life. Choose no career. Choose no
family, choose a fucking big computer, choose disk arrays the size of washing machines,
modem racks, CD-ROM writers and electrical coffee makers. Choose no sleep, high
caffeine and mental insurance. Choose no friends. Choose black jeans and
matching combat boots. Choose chairs for your office in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose SMTP and wondering why the fuck you're logged on on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting in that swivel-chair looking at mind-numbing, spirit-crushing web sites,
stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it
all, pishing your last in some miserable newsgroup, nothing more than an embarassment to
the selfish, fucked up lusers Gates spawned to replace the computer literate.
Choose your future.
Choose to sysadmin.