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From: cate3@netcom.com (Henry Cate)
Subject: Life 2.F
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Date: Tue, 14 Mar 1995 18:07:49 GMT
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Date: 28 Sep 87 13:27:56 PDT (Monday)
Subject: Life 2.F
----------------------------------------------------
Mole problems? Call Avogadro: 6.023 E23
If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate
(Picture of Einstein in a police uniform with caption): 186,000 miles
per second. It's not just a good idea, it's the law.
----------------------------------------------------
LOS ANGELES TIMES, September 14:
According to a database maintained by Academic Guidance Services, there are
3,000 scholarships earmarked for golf caddies, newspaper carriers, glee clubbers,
and band members.
Juanita College in Pennsylvania gives grants to needy left-handers.
Parents whose children were born on June 12, 1979 can plan ahead to apply
for a scholarship to the Rochester Institute of Technology in honor of the
school's 150th anniversary.
Bucknell University gives grants to students who do not use alcohol, tobacco,
or narcotics and don't engage in strenuous activities.
A judge in Seattle uses the fines he collects from prostitutes to finance
scholarships for their reformed sisters who want to return to school.
----------------------------------------------------
Excerpted from the Redwood City Times:
The huge Shell Oil Co. toxic waste trial scheduled to gear up in San Bruno
this fall has produced reams and reams of paper. So many, in fact, that
the San Mateo County Clerk's office has partitioned off a room where two
clerks do nothing but sort and file all those stacks of paper.
They've named their space the "Shell Oil Control Center" and posted a sign
outside: "Life is Shell, and then you die."
----------------------------------------------------
What does a proud computer call his little son?
" A microchip off the old block."
What happens if you cross a midget and a computer?
" you get a short circut".
----------------------------------------------------
So the Pope, a Monsignor, and some young priest were hanging out in the Pope's
office talking. Suddenly, through a partially closed door, they see Jesus
Christ himself strolling down the hall. They look at each other aghast. The
Pope strides across the office, sits down at a typewriter and starts banging
away at it. Over the clatter, the Monsignor shakenly asks "Your Holiness,
what are you doing?! That's Jesus himself coming down the hall!".
----------------------------------------------------
The Pope, still typing away, looks up and says testily, "I don't know about
you guys, but I'm gonna look real busy."
Heard about L.A. in the wake of the visit of the Bishop of Rome.
Of the many entrepreneurs dogging his Holiness' footsteps, it seems that
one is now selling frozen flavored holy water on a stick. Yes, popesickles.
----------------------------------------------------
A Catholic Priest and a Rabbi were chatting one day when the conversation
turned to a discussion of job descriptions and promotion.
"What do you have to look forward to in way of a promotion in your job?"
asked the Rabbi.
"Well, I'm next in line for the Monsignor's job." replied the Priest.
"Yes, and then what?" asked the Rabbi.
"Well, next I can become Arch-Bishop." said the Priest.
"Yes, and then?" asked the Rabbi.
"If I work real hard and do a good job as Arch-Bishop, it's possible for
me to become a full Bishop." said the Priest.
"O.K., then what?" asked the Rabbi.
The Priest, begining to get a bit exasperated replied, "With some luck and
real hard work, maybe I can become a Cardinal."
"And then?" asked the Rabbi.
The Priest is really starting to get mad now and replies, "With lots and
lots of luck and some real difficult work and if I'm in the right places
at the right times and play my political games just right, maybe, just maybe,
I can get elected Pope."
"Yes, and then what?" asked the Rabbi.
"Good grief!" shouted the Priest. "What do you expect me to become, GOD?"
"Well," said the Rabbi, "One of our boys made it!!!!!!!!"
----------------------------------------------------
Heard on KABC, a survey was taken at some high school on how the students
felt about contraceptives being advertised on television.
66% were in favor of it.
26% were against it.
8% said that regardless of the commercial, Pres. Reagan should still send aid to
them.
----------------------------------------------------
What did Senator Biden say when he first met with his staff after the New
York Times broke the plagiarism scandal? "Don't worry, guys. The only
thing we have to fear is fear itself!"
Biden said that in regard to plagarisim charges, it wasn't anything recent.
In fact, he said 'It all happened four score and seven years ago...'
Biden, when asked if he was going to resign, said that 'he had not yet begun to fight.'
Pat Schroeder called Joe and told him that she was thinking of entering
the presidential race. His response was ' Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.'
Perhaps the cruelest cut of all was when someone asked a Biden staffer why
Biden was still in the race. The staffer responded that they had been unable
to locate a copy of Hart's resignation speech.
In the face of all this scandal, he has announced that if nominated, he
will not run, and if elected, he will not serve.
----------------------------------------------------
"News that stayed News: Ten Years of Coevolution Quarterly"
COONDOG MEMORY
(heard in Rutledge, Missouri, about eighteen years ago)
"Now, this dog is for sale, and she can not only follow a trail twice as
old as the average dog can, but she's got a pretty good memory to boot.
For instance, last week this old boy who lives down the road from me, and
is forever stinkmouthing my hounds, brought some city fellow around to try
out ol' Sis here. So I turned her out south of the house and she made two
or three big swings back and forth across the edge of the woods, set back
her head, bayed a couple of times, cut straight through the woods, come to
a little clearing, jumped about three foot straight up in the air, run to
the other side, and commenced to letting out a racket like she had something
treed. We went over there with our flashlights and shone them up in the
tree but couldn't catch no shine offa coon's eyes, and my neighbor sorta
indicated that ol' Sis might be a little crazy, `cause she stood right to
the tree and kept singing up into it. So I pulled off my coat and climbed
up into the branches, and sure enough, there was a coon skeleton wedged in
between a couple of branches about twenty foot up. Now as I was saying,
she can follow a pretty old trail, but this fellow was still calling her
crazy or touched `cause she had hopped up in the air while she was crossing
the clearing, until I reminded him that the Hawkins' had a fence across there
about five years back. Now, this dog is for sale."
----------------------------------------------------
Many people think that the concepts and ideas that they read
about typical SF story are derived from the imagination of the
writer. How do you know this? Many of the things I have read about
would require an imagination that borders on mental illness. Are
these writers producing autobiographies, thinly disguised as science
fiction? Just in case, I present here a brief guide, to help you in
the event that something you have read about actually happens to
you.
What to do ...
1. If you get a phone call from Mars.
Speak slowly and be sure to enunciate your words properly. Limit
your vocabulary to simple words. Try to determine if you are
speaking to someone in a leadership capacity, or an ordinary
citizen.
Q. What if he or she doesn't speak English?
Hang up. There's no sense in trying to learn Martian over the
phone. If your Martian really had something important to say to
you, he or she would have taken the trouble to learn the language
before calling.
2. If you get a phone call from Jupiter?
Explain to your caller, politely but firmly, that being from
Jupiter, he or she is not `life as we know it'. Try to terminate
the conversation as soon as possible. It will not profit you.
3. If a starship, equipped with an FTL hyperdrive lands in your
backyard?
First of all, do not run after your camera. You will not have
any film. Be polite. Remember, if they have an FTL hyperdrive,
they can probably vaporize you, should they find you to be rude.
Direct them to the White House lawn, which is where they probably
wanted to land, anyway. A good road map should help.
4. If you wake up in the middle of the night, and discover that your
closet contains an alternate dimension?
Don't go in. You almost certainly will not be able to get back,
and alternate dimensions are almost never any fun. Remain calm
and go back to bed. Check your closet in the morning. If it
still contains an alternate dimension, nail it shut.
5. If reality disappears?
Hope this one doesn't happen to you. There is not much you can
do about it. It can be quite unpleasant.
6. If you meet an older version of yourself who has invented a time
traveling machine, and has come from the future to meet you?
Follow the books on this one. Ask about the stock market and
cash in. Don't forget to invent a time traveling machine and
visit your younger self before you die, or you will create a
paradox.
I hope this guide will be of help to you, should you find
yourself confronted with any of the situations described. If
anything like the above should happen to you, get out your
typewriter, and crank out a story.
----------------------------------------------------
From the Echoes-Sentines [?], Somerset County, NJ, Sept. 17, 1987:
GILLETTE RESIDENT IS ARRESTED AFTER SHOOTING HIS COMPUTER
PASSAIC TWP. -- A Gillette man was arrested at his home last
Thursday night after he fired eight bullets at his home computer,
according to police.
The man, Michael A. Case, 35, of 64 Summit Ave., was arrested
shortly after 11 p.m., at his house, when police said they received
a report that shots were fired. They arrived at the home to find
a .44 Magnum automatic handgun and a shot-up IBM personal computer
with a Princeton Graphics System monitor.
The monitor screen was blown out by the blasts and its inner
workings were visible, Lt. Donald Van Tassel said on Monday. The
computer, which had bullet holes in its hardware, was hit four times
while four more bullet holes were found in various areas next to the
computer, Van Tassel said.
"The only thing he (Case) said was that he was mad at his computer
so he shot it," Van Tassel said.
The handgun, which the lieutenant identified as an Israeli Arms
Desert Eagle .44, has "a lot of firepower," he said. "It's a big
gun." Case used hollow-point, or dum-dum, bullets, he added.
Case was surprised when police arrested him because he didn't think
he was breaking the law, Van Tassel said. "He couldn't understand
why he couldn't shoot his own computer in his own home," Van Tassel
said.
Case was charged with recklessly creating a risk and using a firearm
against the property of another, because the house is reportedly
owned by a relative. The walls were also damaged by the shots,
according to police.
He was also charged with unlawful posession of a firearm without a
permit, and with possession of illegal bullets, police said.
In addition, Case was issued to summonses, for discharging a weapon
in a restricted area and for discharging a single-projectile weapon,
police said.
Case spent early Friday morning in the Morris County Jail and was
released later in the day on $2,500 bail, according to police.
A Municipal Court appearance is scheduled for today, Sept. 17.
[Strange. I just heard a speaker talking about RIFLING THROUGH FILES,
rather than RIFFLING THROUGH FILES. Prophetic? PGN]
----------------------------------------------------
[The following Dave Barry column showed up on the Stanford BBoard
via some circuitous route.]
Nervous? Hah! NERVOUS?! Forget it! I am not the least tiny little BIT
nervous about engaging in air travel these days!!
Why even as I write these words, I am boldly sitting in a jet-powered commercial
airplane, and I am cool as a cucumber. This is because we are on the ground
at the famous Atlanta airport, which means we will all be dead from starvation
long before we take off, because there are 1,450 aircraft ahead of us, including
a number of biplanes still awaiting clearance to participate in World War I.
Sitting next to me are two pilots whose flight was canceled. I am not making
this up. They work for Eastern Airlines, one of a growing group of airlines
that, as far as I can tell, do not actually own any airplanes. What they
own is a large, modern and superbly maintained fleet of excuses for why your
flight has been canceled. It's a real thrill to watch the gate crews for
these airlines swing into action as departure time approaches:
"Ladies and gentlemen," the gate agent proudly announces, "the excuse for
canceling Flight 219 is now arriving on our computer screen." Right on time!
The aspiring passengers cluster around and watch with nervous excitement
as the gate agent frowns at the computer, then says:
"Flight 219 has been canceled because of . . .
(Dramatic pause)
" . . . MAYONNAISE IN THE GYROSCOPE!"
Ha ha! A new one! What will they think of next? The aspiring passengers,
shaking their heads in wonderment at how far commercial aviation has come
in just their own lifetimes, wander off to look for a working vending machine.
Not that I am complaining about being stuck on the ground. No, because the
aviation industry is operating under a new policy called "deregulation,"
under which anybody who can produce two forms of identification is allowed
to operate an airline, and alarming things can happen to the occasional flight
that actually becomes airborne, as evidenced by recent news reports of planes
whose engines were turned off when they were not in direct personal contact
with the ground; planes taking off without important mechanical parts such
as wings; planes bound for Lexingoton, Ky., but landing, due to navigational
error, on the Lost Continent of Atlantis; etc.
But what really bothers me is the pilots. When I was a boy, all the pilots
were much older than I am, but in recent years there has been a disturbing
trend -- you may have noticed this -- toward pilots MY OWN AGE. I happen
to be my own age, and I would never place a person such as myself in a position
of responsibility. I live in constant fear that one day I'm going to get
on an airplane, and there in the cockpit, wearing a uniform and frowning
at the instruments, will be somebody I went to high school with, somebody
like Billy Kirkwood, who once, at the Halloween Dance, on purpose, set fire
to his own hair.
And let's not even TALK about what happens to luggage. I'm going to have
a little sticker made up: YOU CAN CHECK MY LUGGAGE WHEN YOU PRY MY COLD,
DEAD FINGERS OFF THE HANDLE. Everybody feels this way. Everybody carries
everything on board. You see people stuffing Barcaloungers into the overhead racks.
TRUE ANECDOTE: Recently the remains of Pvt. Eddie Slovik, the only American
executed for desertion during World War II, were supposed to be flown via
TWA from New York, N.Y., to Detroit, Mich., so naturally they wound up in
San Francisco, Calif. This really happened. Fortunately somebody managed
to track Pvt. Slovik down before he earned a Frequent Flier bonus trip to the Far East.
Meanwhile, here in the Atlanta airport, we are getting our Safety Lecture.
"In the unlikely event that we make it as far as a body of water before we
crash," the flight attendant is saying, "you can use your complimentary snack
to repel sharks."
Next to me, the Eastern pilots -- one of whom is, no question about it, YOUNGER
than I am -- are looking at the little safety card from the barf-bag pocket,
and they are LAUGHING at it. This is the truth. I ask them what is so funny,
and they point to the diagram of the plane floating perkily on top of the
water, like a giant inflatable pool toy, while the passengers alertly rescue themselves.
"You mean the plane won't do that?" I ask.
"Listen," one of them says. "This plane floats about as well as a boat flies."
Finally, days later, we take off. The pilot is talking on the intercom.
"Folks," he is saying, "on behalf of your entire flight crew, let me just
say that I am setting fire to my hair."
I hope the beverage cart gets here soon.
----------------------------------------------------
Where the Weird Things Are by Dave Barry
It is time once again for our popular feature, "Animals Making the News,"
featuring heartwarming true stories about the wacky antics of our comical
cousins in the animal kingdom, such as the fish that tried to kill the woman
in Pennsylvania. We are not making this wacky antic up. Here is a direct
quotation from the award-winning "Philadelphia Inquirer": "A fish, believed
to be a muskellunge, knocked a 19-vear-old Bucks county woman unconscious
when it leaped out of the Delaware River and struck her in the head and chest."
Notice that the story says, "believed to be a muskellunge." This prompts
me, once again, of a fundamental Crime-Stopper Tip: If you or someone you
know is assaulted by a fish, ALWAYS TRY TO GET AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTION.
The police are not going to waste their time looking for a fish "believed
to be" a muskellunge, because the case would never stand up in court:
Defense attorney: Mrs. Jones, are you CERTAIN that is was THIS muskellunge
who attacked you?
Victim: Yes, I am.
Defense attorney: Well, perhaps it will interest you to learn, Mrs. Jones,
that this is actually the defendant's BROTHER Maurice.
(Bedlam erupts in the courtroom. The defense lawyer triumphantly slams his
briefcase shut, killing Maurice.)
A strikingly similiar but even more tragic incident occurred recently in
Sacramento County, where a man named Elmer Searle, 80, was struck in the
head by a flying dog named Chaps. We are still not making this up. According
to a story in "The Sacramento Bee", which I am sure also has won many awards,
Chaps was crossing the street when he was struck by a Volkswagon van, causing
him to become airborne for 39 feet before striking Mr. Searle, who was knocked
into a drainage ditch where he hit his head on some rocks.
Mr. Searle is coming along OK, but Chaps had to be dispatched via veterinarian
to the Great Mailbox Post in the Sky. This makes him a potential customer
for a company in Pinellas Park, Fla., named Preservation Specialties, which
will FREEZE-DRY YOUR PET.
I spoke to the owner of Preservation Specialties, Jeffery R. Weber; and he
said that what they do is, they put your pet into a freezer until it gets
to be about 5 degrees below zero, and then they use a freeze-drying machine
to remove your pet's water content, and then, viola, there is your pet, looking
just like it always did, only dead. "Customers generally cry when they pick
up the animal," reports Weber. "They put them in front of the fireplace,
next to the bed, wherever the animal liked to be."
Prices range from $350 for a cat in the lying position to $1800 for a large
dog in the attack position, which not only makes a fine momento, but can
be an effective crime deterrent, as was shown by a recent incident in St.
Louis when Bart, a freeze-dried Doberman pinscher, apprehended Lester A.
Wampus Jr., a freeze-dried burglar. No, seriously, we are just making that
last incident up, although it is getting harder and harder to tell.
Speaking of frozen animals, here's a Homeowner Tip: Don't throw away those
dead mice! I learned this from a friend and former neighbor of mine named
Libby Burger, who, whenever she caught a mouse in a trap, would put it in
a plastic Glad bag and stick it in her freezer in case she needed it at some
later date. We laughed at her, until one extremely cold January evening
when a group of us were sitting around, wondering what to do about a thoughtless
motorist who kept illegally parking his car so it almost blocked the entrance
to our subdivision. Suddenly we realized two or three dozen frozen mice
would be the perfect things to place in various hidden locations inside this
motorist's car, such as under the seat and in the ashtry, to serve as friendly
decaying reminders, come warmer weather, of the importance of respecting
the the basic right of all Americans to freely ingress and egress their subdivisions.
NOTE TO IMPRESSIONABLE YOUNG PEOPLE: We are not suggesting that YOU should
try such a stunt. Remember that we were responsible, revenge-seeking adults
who had been drinking whiskey sours. Also remember that you may need a coat
hanger to unlock the car door.
[from the San Jose Mercury News, September 20th, 1987]
----------------------------------------------------
A long time ago, on a node far, far away (from ucbvax).....
********* D E C W A R S ! ! *********
From the adventures of luke vaxhacker
episode n
Luke had grown up on an out of the way terminal cluster whose
natives only spoke BASIC, but even he could recognize an old
ASR-33.
"It needs and eia conversion at least," sniffed 3CPU, who
was (as usual) trying to do several things at once. Lights
flashed on Con Solo's eyes as he whirled to face the parallel
processor.
"I've added a few jumpers. The Milliamp Falcon can run current
loops around any Imperial TTY Fighter. She's fast enough for
you."
"Who's your co-pilot?" asked PDP-1 Kenobie.
"Two Bacco, here, my bookie."
"Odds aren't good," said the brownish lump beside him, and then
fell silent, or over. Luke couldn't tell which way was top
underneath all those leaves.
Suddenly, RS232 started spacing wildly. They turned just in time to
see a write cycle coming down the unibus toward them. "Imperial
Bus Signals!" shouted Con Solo. "Lets boot this popsicle stand!
Tooie, set clock fast!"
"Ok, Con," said Luke. "You said this crate was fast enough. Get
us out of here!"
"Shut up, kid! Two Bacco, prepare to make the jump into system
space! I'll try to keep their buffers full."
As the bookie began to compute the vectors into low core, spurious
characters appeared around the milliamp falcon. "they're firing!"
shouted Luke. "can't you do something??"
"The jump into system space takes time, kid. One missed cycle and
you could come down right in the middle of a pack of stack frames!"
"In three to five we can go now," said the bookie. Bright chunks
of position independent code flashed by the cockpit as the Milliamp
Falcon jumped through the kernel page tables. As the crew breathed
a sigh of relief, the bookie started paying off bets.
"Not bad, for an acoustically coupled network," remarked 3CPU.
"Though there was a little phase jitter as we changed parity."
TO BE CONTINUED.........
SOME MONTHS LATER.........
Luke was feeling rather bored. 3CPU could get to be rather
irritating and RS232 didn't really speak Luke's language.
Suddenly, luke felt someone's eyes boring through the back
of his skull. He turned slowly to see.....nothing. A quiet
voice came from somewhere in front of him.
"Grasshopper, the carrier is strong within you." Luke froze,
which was a good thing since his legs were insisting that he
run but they weren't likely to be particular about direction.
Luke guessed that his odds of getting lost in the dense tree
structures were pretty good. Unfortunately, the bookie wasn't
available.
"Yes, very strong, but the modulation is yet weak. His network
interface is totally undeveloped," the voice continued. A small
furry creature walked out of the woods as Luke stared on.
Luke's stomach had now joined the rest of his body in loud
complaints. Whatever was peering at him was certainly small
and furry, but Luke was quite sure that it didn't come from
Alpha Centauri.
"Well, well," said the creature as it rolled its eyes at Luke.
"Frobozz, y'know. morning, name's modem. what's your game?
Adventure? D&D? Or are you just one of those apple-pong types
that hang around the store demonstrations?" Luke closed his
eyes. Perhaps if he couldn't see it, it wouldn't notice him.
"H'mm," muttered the creature. "Must use a different protocol.
!@@@H @@ @@($5@@@H ]"G$ @#&@@G¬ (O% @@@@%%H(B ?"
"No, no," stammered Luke. "I don't speak EBCDIC. I was sent
here to become a Unix Wizard. must have the wrong address."
"Right address," said the creature. "I am a Unix Wizard.
Device drivers are a specialty. Or do you prefer playing with
virtual memory?"
Luke eyed the creature cautiously. If this was what happened
to System Wizards after years of late night crashes, Luke wasn't
sure he wanted anything to do with it. He felt a strange affection
for the familiar microcomputers of his home. And wasn't virtual
memory something you got from drinking too much coke?
TO BE CONTINUED.... IF WE'RE NOT LYNCHED......
--
Henry Cate III [cate3@netcom.com]
The Life collection maintainer, selections of humor from the internet
"The Greatest Management Principle in the World" by Michael LeBoeuf:
The things that get rewarded, get done.
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