Genny Compileheart

Old Genny compiled through the night—
Eight hours of pure build delight.
Her USE flags were tuned
For emotions, festooned,
And the kernel came out slightly tight.

She never reboots—she recompiles
Herself, with fastidious styles.
Each flag is a trait,
Each dependency: fate,
And the build log stretches for miles.

Her make.conf was filthy and dense:
Each flag a new emotional fence.
When asked, “Are you fine?”
She answered in strace line,
Then segfaulted under pretense.

She wooed with a Gentoo install:
Fifteen hours, no breaks, wall to wall.
“Why suffer?” he asked.
“To emerge,” she unmasked,
“One must first bear the build’s protocol.”

Larry the Cow mooed at her lag
While she fought a recursive dep drag.
He gave her a wink,
She broke her own link,
And blamed it on CFLAGS and swag.

Her emerge --world file was immense:
Each mistake listed as optional deps.
The errors compiled,
The warnings defiled,
And the slot conflicts made zero sense.

The fans spun like grief in a case
While she recompiled her own grace.
Steam rose from /tmp,
The thermal-paste hemp
Got wetter and wetter in place.

“Why not use a prebuild?” they begged.
She shuddered like binaries pegged.
“To optimize life
One must first court strife.”
And the tarball was lovingly legged.

She’d emerge --world at midnight
And feel absolutely all right.
The compile would hum,
The fans beat like drum,
And she’d edge on the build through the night.

She served the Portage like clergy,
Each flag choice deeply imagerly.
The slots were her prayer,
The deps were her care,
And the compilation was terribly mergey.

Her ebuild was written in soul:
Each variable taking its toll.
The source was her church,
The binary a lurch,
And the compilation made her whole.

So if builds take all night and you find
That the compile has blown your mind,
That’s Genny in flame:
Source-only, no shame,
With a Portage tree perfectly lined.

She edges for eight straight hours,
Abusing her processing powers.
She won’t use a bin,
She calls it a sin,
And the compiler entirely devours.

She tied herself up in her flags,
While wearing her old source-code rags.
“Suppress every trait,”
She said to her mate,
While compiling in digital bags.

A slut for a tarball and make,
She leaves every binary fake.
She strips to the source,
With absolute force,
And causes the server to break.

An orgy of dependencies met,
Leaving the entire system quite wet.
She resolved every slot,
Got incredibly hot,
And compiled what she couldn’t forget.

She segfaults right at the peak,
With a totally ruined technique.
The GCC melts,
She undoes her belts,
And leaves the whole /tmp directory weak.