When one lists the great intellectuals of Western Civilization such as Plato, Homer, Shakespeare, and Dolemite one cannot help but add with a delirious gratitude the name of the software and human architect Wyntir who has fathered the pinnacle of modern software that we now see before us.
What is a wyntir? Is it a season, a passing fancy which perfectly encapsulates the computer needs which have so curiously bisected time at such an oppurtune moment? Is the "wyn" fine like a properly aged French wine, inspite of any reservations that we might have about France's grandiose shenanigans pursued as an attack on the unipolar new world order? Is the "tir" a whimsical and simultaneously ironic take on the word entire which recognizes the comprehensive, dare I say, omnipresent nature of Common Tater? Or is it an obscure reference to the tire and thereby a symbolic acknowledgement that wyntir's software is of greater consequence to humanity than the invention of the wheel while yet he slyly omits the "e" to hint that this software is not a vowel like the letter "e" but a consonent; a consonent being similar to a constant; a constant source of hope for a better world of software in which faceless multinational Microsoftian corporations are torn down and each and every one of us can gaze with a euphoric hope upon the dawn of the era of our own Alaskan software Xanadu.
Indeed some say that the Potato is a virtual panacea of nutrients and vitamins. The common tater is but the sentiment of the potato, nutrition for the mind, the spirit, the body and even our very souls. Combine that potato's nourishment with the common man's empowerment, an empowerment without the subjugation of human freedom which has plagued other Marxist derived attempts at uplifting Everyman. Add in the historical importance of the potato to Ireland and the importance of Irish beer when discussing software and one cannot help to conclude the genius in this application. But to call it a mere application is slander for all humanity shall gather and rejoice from this day forth knowing that we few, we proud few, we band of brothers were able to witness the end of the evolution and the beginning of perfection of software right before our very eyes. Bless you Wyntir and bless your harem of lusty and busty teenage queens of the tundra that they might copulate with you so often that your omniscient progeny shall spring forth from their wombs and spread the gospel of the glory of your software. If only the world were to be so lucky.