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I beat you this time, Mr. Chips! You're really good at these video games, but I can beat you sometimes
Of course, Scooter! Because I'm no smarter than the person who programs me. After all, I'm only hardware, just like nuts and bolts
Oh yeah? You're the smartest bag of nuts and bolts I've ever seen
Listen, Scooter...

Some people a**ume
That simply because a computer can gobble up
All kinds of numbers and facts and figures
And whatever data you happen to feed it
Some people a**ume
Because a computer knows how to remember
Instructions and data and whatever it's told
And deliver it back whenever you need it
As quick as a wink
Some people a**ume a computer can think!

You mean you're not really so smart, Mr. Chips?
Right, Scooter! I'm not equipped to be smart. I'm not equipped to think! I'm equipped to use software and process information, not to understand it
What's software?
The instructions you decide to give me
And how do you use software?
I use software with my hardware
The terminal keyboard you touch when you want to say "hi" to me, that's hardware
My video screen when I want to reply to you, that's hardware too
And this complicated equipment crammed inside of me
Too tiny for you to see, that's hardware too

Nothing but diodes, capacitors, and resistors
Interconnections, and transistors
Jammed together like canned sardines
Thousands of teeny-tiny machines
Printed on microscopic strips
Called... Chips!

Chips? So that's why they call you...
Precisely!
Gee, Mr. Chips, you have a great brain!
Brain? No, Scooter, I have no brain!

Some people a**ume
That simply because I can beat them at math
And war games and chess and checkers
Invaders and raiders, all in the same afternoon
Some people a**ume
Because I can shoot off a rocket and chart it
And clock it, control it, command it, and steer it
And land it precisely there on the moon
It's hard to explain!
But some people a**ume I have a brain!
Okay, but if you don't have a brain, how can you do so many different things?
Because of the different kinds of software people can feed me - scientists or secretaries, astronauts or accountants, managers or musicians - as long as it's put in a language I can understand, I can store the directions in my chips

I a**ure you I haven't a brain and I haven't a heart
And my chips would feel no pain if you took me apart
And I'll never know good from bad, or black from white
And I'll never know happy from sad, or wrong from right

I'm nothing but diodes, capacitors, and resistors
Interconnections, and transistors
Jammed together like canned sardines
Thousands of teeny-tiny machines
Printed on microscopic strips
Called... Chips!

And it's all hardware, just like nuts and bolts!
You're sure a smooth talker, Mr. Chips!
Maybe so, Scooter, but you're the brains of the operation

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