Here's a little poem I wrote, upon being laid off last year.

A Status Report, with apologies to Dr. Seuss.

Would you like my “stat” report?
Here’s all the news both long and short:
I did not work on Miramar.
I did not drive there in my car.
I wrote no rules in MSL.
I stayed at home, talked to myself.

I parsed no English
Synth’d no French.
No Arboretums opened I.
No Parthenons crashed on the fly.
No ATNs to strain my finger
Just a day at home with Jerry Springer.

Now Marina, Doug, John Keefe and me,
We’ve won the right to be job-free.
So when I think of algorithms
I’ll give not a damn what you do with ‘em.
That’s all there is for BGS,
Which—sans the “G,” makes lots of sense.