End of Term Blues
                         by Pat Johanneson

You know it's late, but you're not sure how late.  You haven't checked your
watch since three AM, and frankly, you don't plan to look at it again until
the security guards come by and open the doors to the science building.  You
need a pizza.  You need a beer.  You need a soft place to lay your head. 
You need to finish this program before midnight last night, but since you
obviously have flubbed that deadline, you're going to have to edit the date
stamp back.  And that is not an easy thing to do.  It takes a light touch
and nimble fingers, and right now your fingers feel as light and nimble as
frozen Maple Leaf weiners. 

And you *know* you could get your code working, if you could just figure out
which of the 19 optional flags you need on this particular call.  And then
figure out just why you're getting a stack dump every time you try to run
the concatenation subroutine at the heart of your program.  Then, by God and
Turing, you will be able to go home and *sleep*. 

Ah, the life of a student.  No life like it.

Except maybe corporate prisoner.