In days of yore, when Midgard's might,
Ran strong in veins of AI's flight,
A dearth of chips, advanced and bold,
Left countless minds untamed, unsold.

Alas! Poor Disney's grand design,
Did falter, fail in sun-soaked clime,
Orlando's dreams did turn to woe,
For Magic Kingdom could not grow.

A treacherous tide hath swept the Strip,
Las Vegas' gold now lost in grip,
To cunning hosts, the players bane,
Blackjack's ill fortune, Loki's gain.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur