International Journal of Proof-of-Concept or Get The Fuck Out(alchemistowl.org)

  I met a professor of arcane degree
  Who said: Two vast and handwritten parsers
  Live in the wild. Near them, in the dark
  Half sunk, a shattering exploit lies, whose frown,
  And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
  Tell that its sculptor well those papers read
  Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
  The hand that mocked them and the student that fed:
  And on the terminal these words appear:
  "My name is Turing, wrecker of proofs:
  Parse this unambigously, ye machine, and despair!"
  Nothing besides is possible. Round the decay
  Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
  The lone and level root shells fork away.
    -- Inspired by Edward Shelley