As this is eGO and we don't promote that sort of thing, this is not the story you would expect. But of late I was asked for a story, and it is past time I knocked the dust off that part of my brain. So here goes...
You're tending the flock. It's late and you're with your buds. Still you drew the short straw and you've got the night watch. Again. You're pretty sure they're your buds but your spare pair of dry socks have been missing since you brought in the last load of fire wood.
Stretch has carved himself a new flute and he's not near the craftsman he thinks he is; nor the musician, come to that. Shorty keeps singing the same lyrics over and over and it wouldn't be so bad but he makes up his own and you suspect you are the butt of the joke.
Then there are the sheep. It's the season for lambs and sheep, which are the stupidest creatures on the planet, achieve the miraculous and get dumber. Sheep, if you don't watch them every blessed minute will drown themselves in swamps, strangle themselves in thorn bushes and eat things that will make them sick. Mostly they do this to annoy you. You know it's true.
Still you drew the short straw. The dew is covering everything and warmth is a distant memory. Looking up you can see every star in the sky. The good news is it makes it easier to keep track of the sheep and be on the lookout for varmints that find them tasty. The bad news is a cloudless sky sucks the warmth right out of your bones and you really miss those socks.
Suddenly there is a great noise and... no I am not going to go there. You either know that story or you don't. Not the place to tell it.
We are eGO. We are the shepherds of our servers and cold, dew, and bad jokes aside we will tend our flock. We make part of the world a better place.
I rejoice to be among your number.
May your nights know peace.
You're tending the flock. It's late and you're with your buds. Still you drew the short straw and you've got the night watch. Again. You're pretty sure they're your buds but your spare pair of dry socks have been missing since you brought in the last load of fire wood.
Stretch has carved himself a new flute and he's not near the craftsman he thinks he is; nor the musician, come to that. Shorty keeps singing the same lyrics over and over and it wouldn't be so bad but he makes up his own and you suspect you are the butt of the joke.
Then there are the sheep. It's the season for lambs and sheep, which are the stupidest creatures on the planet, achieve the miraculous and get dumber. Sheep, if you don't watch them every blessed minute will drown themselves in swamps, strangle themselves in thorn bushes and eat things that will make them sick. Mostly they do this to annoy you. You know it's true.
Still you drew the short straw. The dew is covering everything and warmth is a distant memory. Looking up you can see every star in the sky. The good news is it makes it easier to keep track of the sheep and be on the lookout for varmints that find them tasty. The bad news is a cloudless sky sucks the warmth right out of your bones and you really miss those socks.
Suddenly there is a great noise and... no I am not going to go there. You either know that story or you don't. Not the place to tell it.
We are eGO. We are the shepherds of our servers and cold, dew, and bad jokes aside we will tend our flock. We make part of the world a better place.
I rejoice to be among your number.
May your nights know peace.
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