I went to see a fortune-teller in a sideshow tent
To find out what my future holds and where my love life went.
She gazed into her crystal ball and swung her kerchiefed head
To look at me and prophesy “You eat too much white bread.”
I asked her how she knew twas so and on the spot she cried
That my debit card revealed my purchases each slide.
Then she took my palm and said I’d be a pastry cook.
When I asked her why she said twas written on Facebook.
I gasped and told that witch “Forebear from calumny so bitter!”
She told me all my stocks had crashed; twas just announced on Twitter.
“Your buying patterns are revealed, along with weight and height”
She cackled as she sucked the data from my old blog site.
“You fiend!” I yelled in terror, “You’re an eBay-slave and brute.”
“And I shall soon disarm you with a large class action suit!”
At this she only chortled and took off upon her broom,
Shrieking that the Cloud would soon select for me a tomb.
I ran to brave Jay Edelson to tell him of my woes;
He promised he’d soon have that imp a-dancin’ on her toes.
But when the trial was over and the settlement was paid
I found I only got enough to buy some lemonade . . .
from a story in the New York Times