Chapter 1
1. In the beginning was the word, and the word was HATE. 2. And the
users looked down upon the Fox of the Fires, and saw that it was
hateful. 3. Thus spake the Dread Prophet Mozilla, "Verily, I say
unto thee, go forth and let the hate multiply, and spread across
the earth and all the lands therein." 4. And the pestilence did
spread, and there was the earth filled with the sounds of weeping,
and of the gnashing of teeth. 5. And the Fox of the Fires rejoiced,
having brought its reign of hatefulness to all the earth.

Chapter 2
1. Now in the land of Seattle, there was a simple programmer of
computers, who used the Fox of the Fires to navigate the waters of
the World Wide Web. 2. And it was the habit of this programmer to
read through the morning's dose of trouble ticket emails, and click
the links to any which he wanted to read further. 3. The clicking
of the links being a signal to the Fox of the Fires to show the
programmer each ticket, in its turn. 4. But lo, there came to pass
a morning where the network of the simple programmer turned into a
notwork, and the Fox of the Fires could not open the links, as
requested. 5. Yea, verily, did it indicate failure, by showing a
Box of Alertness to the simple programmer, and by showing a Tab of
Emptiness within. 6. The programmer went to the Fox of the Fires
and said, "Yea, verily, showeth unto me, in the location bar for
each Tab of Emptiness, the URL I have commanded thee to render."
7. But the Fox of the Fires laughed at the simple programmer, showing
only emptiness in the location bar, leaving the programmer to attempt
to guess what URL he might have attempted to open. 8. And the air
was rent by the screams of the programmer, and the sounds of monitors,
smashing on the rocks below. 9. And the Fox of the Fires rejoiced,
in having thwarted the simple programmer in his attempt to work
more efficiently, by opening all the tickets first, and then reading
them all in one go.

-- 
Timothy Knox <mailto:[email protected]>
The problem is that once you have done away with the ability to make
judgments as to right and wrong, true and false, etc., there's no real
culture left. All that remains is clog dancing and macrame.
    -- Neal Stephenson, In the Beginning Was the Command Line

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