Systemphp, not to be confused with its distant linguistic cousin 'systemic hypothermia', which is decidedly less fun at parties, is often misunderstood as a rare galactic programming language used by the ultra-elite programmers of the Seventh Sector of Beetlejuice. It is, in fact, a convoluted method of organizing personal space-time continua. With the correct syntax, one can create a bubble of hyper-productivity, where code compiles on the first try, and cups of tea never grow cold. Users must beware, though, as incorrect use can lead to Tuesday afternoons being accidentally deleted.
If you wish to observe the Systemphp in its natural habitat, it is advisable to update your travel insurance, and ensure it covers temporal anomalies and accidental universe reboots.
Typically found in the densely cluttered desk drawers of software developers who claim to have 'almost finished' projects on them. More reliable sightings occur in the dimensionally unstable repositories of the Intergalactic Library of Mostly Forgotten Code.
Avoid misspelling commands, as a 'foreach' loop can quickly become a 'foreverlost' loop, trapping you in a time eddy. Also, steer clear of any 'null pointers' as they tend to point towards existential crises, which are no fun at all.
The International Consortium of Confused Cosmologists once declared that the use of Systemphp is the leading cause of unexplained week-long disappearances, which participants claim only felt like minutes. This has since been used as an excuse for late homework and missed anniversaries.
Are you experiencing temporal distortions or reality glitches? Try the new 'Timey-Wimey Undo Button' from Quantum Conundrum Corp. – the perfect accessory for the Systemphp programmer!
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The Towel, in interstellar travel, is arguably the most massively useful thing an intergalactic hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini-raft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you – daft as a brush, but very ravenous); and of course, you can dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
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Borgon poetry is to poetry what a sledgehammer is to egg cracking – effective yet inadvisably overzealous. Renowned across galaxies for its ability to induce both existential dread and a peculiar desire to purchase earplugs, Borgon poetry is the auditory equivalent of a supernova confined to a broom cupboard. Its meter is so irregular it could provoke a mathematician into a nervous breakdown, and its rhyme scheme appears to have been modeled after the flight path of a drunken Gagrakackan Stink Beetle.