Today's your big day!
You're off to a place,
just a few feet away.

It looks like a wall
But it's thin - made of plasma,
and THIS wall is humming,
with raza-ma-tasma

There's a blip on that wall.
an electronic cheese doodle,
that grows on one end
when it uses its noodle.
Say some words to that blip
speak frankly and plain,
(cause grammatical twists
are tougher to train.)

It can learn what you say,
And say what you learn
cause the guys in AI
have taught it to churn,
your voice into actions,
A, B, C, or D,
depending where it hits,
a hierarchical tree.

MyCOMM, Dick or Harry
It's receiving your data,
Bits of email from Barry,
and vmail from Sue,
and BIG NEWS from the Schwabbs,
(Your holdings just grew,
on a tip from Lou Dobbs!)
And it knows what YOU say
Try it! It's TRUE!
Ask it a question
Get an answer or two.

And just when it seems
there's an END to the data,
more comes in from places
that are fresh out of Beta...

There's a NEW kind of service,
a custom video clipster!
that assembles a show,
faster than Nipster,
Cause the network now knows,
your standing profile
and brings you what YOU like,
WITHOUT taking a while.
You simply MUST enter,
a list of such things...
Like where Tiger tee'd from,
or a song Barbra sings.

BUT before you say "Play"
something goes fooey,
your teenage son Zach,
has hijacked your GUI

and from out of the back,
comes a listening APP
that lets Zach play songs,
AND party AND yapp.
And while he's yap-yapping,
His words come alive
With images and pictures
From a 3D gig drive.
(And instead of Streisand
You hear hip-hop from Clive,
AND the complete works of Clive
From a live, Clive archive.

You regain control
With an authorative "Yo!"
and the system reconfigures
to what YOU need to know

Now there's THREE of those blips -
one RED, BLUE and GREEN,
each one a different
noodle-using machine.
As new data arrives,
it's packaged and labeled
and sent back in space
where it's ACCESS-ENABLED:
for cellphones, and palms
and beepers and more
and placed in a VIRTUAL
(Once it's gone THIS far,
You can head out the door!)

So you go out, go out to your car,
that's been THINKING of you,
and knows where you are.
All the data upstairs
is now in your trunk,
in a terrabyte drive
in a heap of car junk.
NOW as you drive,
YOU appear as a blip,
one that knows FULLY,
where to go on a trip
And it knows all your tastes,
and your home mortgage rate,
and where in Poughkeepsie,
it was you last ate.)

And all this information,
It responds to YOUR voice,
It responds to YOUR tone,
And there's a pip-squeaky chip,
keeping your data intact,
(so NO prying eyes,
can hack out a fact!)

Just then there's a call
from your spouse in NY.
She's walking down Fifth
and she's come to a fork.

"Which way is that shop,
where we spent on a lark,
all the money we've got
was it Madison or Park?"

You say "tsk, tsk, tsk"
(she's just ACTING needy,)
There's no guessing game,
she's got Air Grafitti
She just has to look,
down each block in the air,
and she'll KNOW what she scribbled
when last she was there.

A small, diamond brooch
on your wife's right lapel,
is sending some pics,
to your Thing-ga-ma-TEL.

Her cellphone, her visor
Her pricey broach pin,
Are all in cahoots
with a bluetoothy grin.
And what you see in your car
makes your smile turn thin
She's buying 10 items from
the most priciest bin.

Just then you arrive,
At your place of employment,
where a new kind of gizmo
offers a new kind of enjoyment.

Instead of your office
Your room, desk and chair
You can now do your work
from most everywhere.

And this WORKING class gizmo,
knows your WORKING persona,
The one that sells toasters
To folks in Katona.

And the first thing it does,
after learning your name,
Is tie in your calls to the
one and the same,
that you talk to at home,
(and all OTHER places
you happen to roam.)

So you do what every other,
Self-Cleaning, Toast-Salesman would do,
You head for a spot,
That's just right for you.

And from that quaint, quiet place,
Near a bush, tree and stream,
You manage your NEW,
Net-based data
data management team.