Bay Area writer Curt Hopkins and his friend Eric Moore, both veterans of one-a those dot-coms, penned an ode to the poor Valley workin' man. Best sung to the tune of "Luckenbach, Texas" by Waylon Jennings; best taken with a Red Bull and vodka.

Silicon Valley Dirt Farmer

Verse One:
He's got his Sansabelt slacks and his cell phone on a holster on his hip.
He just wants a million dollars and chance to trade his tractor for a ship.
Just like you and me he's workin' hard so he can send his kids to private school
And take off for Verona in the Springtime with a pocket full of jewels.

Chorus:
He's a Silicon Valley dirt farmer
Tryin' to make a better life.
If you were him and he was me
Then that guy over there would be your wife.

Two more verses after the jump.

Verse Two:
He used to greet the dawn by drinkin' coffee in the carport by the truck
But now he spends each morning a-twitter like a pixie at Starbucks.
He used to watch the sun set like a fire in the fading Coastal Range
But now he's eatin' sushi with the fratboys who all work in marketing.

(Chorus)

Verse Three:
The Emperor's New Clothes are made of such a lovely new material.
Just listen to the doodad as it beeps, announcing you've arrived in Hell.
The Valley is ground zero for the latest mass hysterical delusion.
Squeeze the bulb and twitter you're about to join the ultimate solution.

(Chorus, Chorus, Chorus once more and turn off the karaoke machine)

Major points to anyone who records this, natch.

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