Blueprints and Bottlenecks
They promised progress, sleek and grand,
Bold new products, supply in hand.
Yet numbers whispered, time ran thin—
18A stalled before it could begin.
14A, a future bright,
Shrouded now in dimmer light.
Layoffs came, cold winds blew,
Dreams dissolved where workers strew.
All plans drafted, visions tall,
Yet the past year saw them stall.
What did Intel’s hands create?
A dance with delays, a twist of fate.
Well at least we know how to use chatgpt
ChatGPT in the house.
Must have too much time on your hands.
What Did Intel Do This Year?
(A Satirical Poem)
Products promised, grand and bold,
Stories of silicon, futures sold.
Roadmaps paved with 18A dreams—
Reality? Less smooth, more screams.
Then came whispers: 14A’s tight,
But not enough to launch at night.
Timelines slipped, like grains of sand,
Excuses filed with trembling hands.
Layoffs next, the silence loud,
Once-proud halls now lack the crowd.
All plans—revised, postponed, or canned—
A future drawn in shifting sand.
The fans asked, What’s the master play?
The answer came: A bunch of delays!
Spin the PR, change the slide,
Hope ambition still can ride.
Once a titan, still it stands,
But fumbles futures in its hands.
So here we sit, with eyes turned blue,
Waiting still... for something new.