Maineiac

Imagine if, instead of cryptic, geeky text strings, your computer produced error messages in Haiku:

A file that big? It might be very useful. But now it is gone.

Chaos reigns within. Reflect, repent, and reboot. Order shall return.

ABORTED effort: Close all that you have. You ask way too much.

With searching comes loss and the presence of absence: "My Novel" not found.

The Tao that is seen is not the true Tao, until you bring fresh toner.

Stay the patient course. Of little worth is your ire. The network is down.

A crash reduces your expensive computer to a simple stone.

Yesterday it worked. Today it is not working. Windows is like that.

Three things are certain: Death, taxes, and lost data. Guess which has occurred.

You step in the stream, but the water has moved on. This page is not here.

Out of memory. We wish to hold the whole sky. But we never will.

Having been erased, the document you are seeking must now be retyped.

Rather than a beep or a rude error message these words: "File not found."

First snow, then silence. This thousand dollar screen dies so beautifully.

The Web site you seek cannot be located but endless others exist.

Serious error. All shortcuts have disappeared. Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

Windows NT crashed. I am the Blue Screen of Death. No one hears your screams.