Hot Rod Cray

ttto: Hot Rod Lincoln, C. Ryan/W.S. Stevenson
(as performed by Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Arimen. There are more verses than on the record. The 'extra' verses are indented.)

My lawyer said "Scum --
     You crypto maniac --
     You virtual-sex fiend --
     You Coca-Cola-holic --
     You cyber punk --
                    -- you'll be in jail for a long while
if you don't give up on your Cracker Lifestyle."

Think you've heard a story on the Internet,
A computer raid -- biggest yet.
Story's true, just like they say;
It was _me_ with that souped-up Cray.

She's a custom model; one of a kind,
That CPU can _really_ unwind.
One-twenty-eight bits, uses each one,
She's got SCSI drives -- loads'a fun.

Four gigs of RAM -- a bunch of cache --
Full parity -- this baby can't crash.
Runs B.S.D., but that's O.K.
System's solid anyway.

          Well I found her at the Ax Man's store.
          She wasn't there the week before.
          Stared at that great beast I'd found,
          And the clerk said "*That*'s ten cents a pound."

          Found the property tag - said "N.S.A.",
          And I knew that there'd be hell to pay,
          When they found their machine had flown,
          So I paid in *cash* and rolled her home.

Well I called some friends up, said "No joke,
Bring pizza and a case of Coke.
Getting on the Infobahn,
If you want to you can tag along."


          Plugged the modem cord into my phone,
          But all we could get was a busy tone.
          Finally got through; my pals weren't awed,
          On the Net at twelve hundred baud.

Out of the speaker came the e-mail beep.
The message came from some M.I.T. creep.
Said, "Hey, you should ditch that pig."
Putting down my Cray made himself feel big.

"I just can't let that insult go,
There's a telco fiber near, you know."
So we tapped that fiber late that night,
Hit the Net at the Speed of Light.

By then her circuits were running too hot,
Discovered the cooling system was shot.
Pack her in dry ice and she'll be fine,
Not a bad fix - in fact sublime.

I searched the Network high and low,
Hoping that M.I.T. nerd would show.
Pal said, "Whoa, goin' too fast...
Lines on the screen are screaming past!"

Spun through the Web, gathered it all,
And even though _I_ was havin' a ball,
Could see in the glow of the console screen,
The guy beside me was turning green.


Cee-Oh-Two fog was over our knees
When my rig caught up with M.I.T.'s
Snail-mail came, and I felt ill.
Forgot to hack the electric bill!

Found that young punk and threw him a flame
He tried a reply but it seemed pretty lame.
Showed him my stuff and that kid was impressed,
Finally admitted my Cray was the best.

Out'a my window I heard some loud clanks
Sounded just like a couple'a tanks.
I peeked out that window and what did I see?
The COPS was after my Cray and me.

     The Po-lice...
     The Information Highway Patrol...
     The Tennessee Values Authority...
     The U.S. Secret Service...
     The B.A.T.F...
     J. Edgar Hoover...
     The Capstone Kops...

     And then they -- kicked in the doors.
     And then they -- kicked out the jambs.

     They (a)rested me,
     And searched me,
     For my PGP key.

     Well they missed...
     ...The H-bomb plans I'd just picked up from Korea.
     And they missed...
     ...The six gigs of porn I had in the hard drive.
     And all because...
     ...It was all encrypted to look like fantasy football stats
           -- they thought I was clean as a whistle.

     They called me a true-blue, red blooded, white American male.

     I was their buddy 'till...
     They found my Permanent Record --
     with the Black Marks from grade school.

     I was back to bein' a Mennace To Society.

They read 'Miranda' and took me to jail,
and told my lawyer "Don't _think_ about bail."
He said "Scum, you'll stay here for a long while,
If you don't give up on that Cracker Lifestyle."

lyrics: Copyright 1994, Rich Brown