Sonnet Dare: In Which Paul Is Locked In Combat Motal

The gauntlet falls, a ringing, mighty thud
(Though really it's just Laroquod when he
Pulls out an indispensable wee dud,
His iPhone, and doth quest for some 3G).
"Lieutenant Gorman, do something!" he cries
(He's dubbed it thus for reasons I'll make clear;
The reference is Alien). How his eyes
Do narrow as his brow knits, and the fear
Doth grip me as he starts his kluge. He must
Because some crucial apps choked in a sync.
His firmware needed upgraded. The bust
Is that the new OS doth truly stink
On older iPhones. Lo, he entertains
Whene'er he tries to use his extra brains.

In Which I Gain Another Sobriquet

I must confess, it often makes me blush,

As vividly as does my best guy when

I tweet him compliments or silly mush,

That Ommus calls me "Sonnet Queen." These men

Are merciless betimes; now comes today

When Ommus, blaming iPhone for the flub,

Bestowed on me a brand new sobriquet,

And so the pair of them now fondly dub

Me "Sinnet Queen", which, near as I can tell,

Has aught to do with ropes and weaving, which

Suggests that I'm to be tied up real well?

Or am I being saucy here? No glitch

Do I see in my reasoning, so, Paul,

And Ommus, I accept this name you call.

In Which Reality Proves Once Again To Be As Weird My Favorite Novelist's Work

Were I with Apple's marketing brain trust,
How would I follow it's great iPad coup?
I'd think guerilla leaks would be a must,
And it looks to me that they think so, too.
Was iPhone's newest iteration dropped
In error in a bar? That seems quite odd.
The furor this created can't be stopped,
And such publicity's a gift from God,
Unless it's manufactured, Blue Ant style.
E'en he who dreamed up Hubertus Bigend,
Our William Gibson, thinks so. It's worthwhile,
I think, to ponder if it's true. Forfend
That one of Apple's minions takes the blame.
Could any human being withstand the shame?