The SDMB server walks into a bar.
The bartender says, “Hey, did you know we have a drink named after you?”
The SDMB server looks at him, cocks its head, and stands there for a few seconds.
The bartender looks back. After a bit, he says, “I said, did you know we have a drink named after you?”
The SDMB server stands there silently.
The bartender says, “Hey, are you okay?”
The SDMB server says nothing.
The bartender shrugs, goes and serves another customer, then comes back.
The SDMB server is still standing there, quiet and motionless.
The bartender comes out from behind the bar. “Hey,” he says, going over to the SDMB server, “is everything okay?” He pokes the SDMB server in the shoulder.
The SDMB server doesn’t react.
“Fine,” says the bartender, “be that way.”
The bartender goes about his business. The SDMB server stands in the middle of the bar for the rest of the day, and eventually the bartender, occupied with other work, forgets about it.
At closing time, he stops next to the SDMB server, still standing like a statue. “You still in a coma?” he asks. No response.
He shrugs, locks up, and leaves.
The next morning, the SDMB server is still standing where he left it, unchanged. He taps it on the shoulder, verifies that it’s still nonresponsive, and opens the bar.
All day long, the bartender serves his customers as they go in and out. Every now and then, he glances up at the SDMB server; sometimes he says something, and sometimes he gives it a nudge. It continues to stand in the middle of the floor, deaf and blind to the world. Later that night, he closes up the bar, again leaving the server where it was.
This routine continues for days, stretching into weeks, then into months.
Outside, the neighborhood around the bar is changing. Property values are slowly beginning to rise, and businesses are changing hands as gentrification takes over. The bar’s owners look at the bottom line, and decide that it’s a good time to take advantage of the rising tide. They sell the bar to new investors.
During the inspection, the new owners notice the SDMB server standing in the middle of the room like a mannequin.
“What’s up with that?” they ask.
“Oh,” say the former owners, “it’s been there forever. Used to be a regular. Doesn’t seem to be doing any harm.”
“Mmm, okay, whatever,” say the new owners.
They shut down the bar for a couple of weeks to remodel. They swap out the plastic ferns and the Dukes of Hazzard pinball machine for plasma-screen TVs and pull-tab machines. They replace the antique taps behind the bar with new, non-leaky hardware. They retile the bathrooms and fix up the plumbing. They replace the neon “Modelo” sign in the window with one for a local microbrewery. They have the antique pool table refinished and resurfaced, and buy a new set of billiard balls to replace the collection of old and chipped balls that had been in use since the seventies.
Finally, they’re done. The bar’s facelift is complete, and they’re ready to re-open.
The night before, they’re admiring their handiwork, when they notice again the SDMB server still standing in the middle of the floor. They go over and look more closely at it.
“You suppose we should do something about it?” says one to another.
“I don’t know,” comes the response. “It’s sort of an institution. It isn’t really in the way, and it isn’t hurting anything. I’d hate to toss it out for no reason.”
“I know what you mean,” says the first. “It’s kind of nice to maintain a connection to the old place.”
The second nods. “Yep. There’s still a place for tradition, I guess.”
Then the SDMB server blinks and shakes its head. It looks at the two new owners, and it says, “You have a drink called Ass?”
