From: Automatic digest processor To: Recipients of HUMOR digests Subject: HUMOR Digest - 4 Jan 2000 to 5 Jan 2000 (#2000-5) Date: Wednesday, January 05, 2000 2:00 AM There are 9 messages totalling 538 lines in this issue. Topics of the day: 1. The Investment of a Lifetime 2. The Twelve Days of Technology 3. A Poem For Boys 4. A Y2K Ditty 5. This Just In... 6. The GRass is always greener 7. $25 8. Humor - Weird Business News #22 (1st of 3) 9. The Most Intriguing Sound In The World ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 16:43:51 +0800 From: "Yeow Jit San (Benjamin) (Central)" Subject: The Investment of a Lifetime Approaching eighty-five years of age, Mrs. Lipkowitz finally decided it was time to give up her apartment in New York and move to Miami. She was given the name of a Florida realtor, who enthusiastically drove her all over Miami, extolling the virtues of every apartment they looked at. "And this one, what a steal," he rhapsodized, "the investment of a lifetime. Why, in ten years it's gonna be worth three times..." "Sonny," interrupted Mrs. Lipkowitz, "at my age I don't even buy green bananas." =========================================== Jokes Make My Day (JMMD) Digest Our Fun Site, http://www.penang.org/JMMD/ =========================================== ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 10:35:26 +0200 From: Felix Chirciu Subject: The Twelve Days of Technology (Oldie, via alt.sysadmin.recovery. Orig. source unknown) On the ninth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Nine lady executives with attitude (She said do WHAT with the servers?) Eight MODEMs dialing (You've been downloading WHAT?) Seven license failures (We sent the P.O. two months ago!) Six games a-playing (HOW many people are doing this to the network?) Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean two have the same ID?) Four support calls (No, I am not at the console - I tried that already.) Three French users (No, only one floppy fits at a time. Why do you ask?) Two transceiver failures (Spare? What spare?) And a database with a broken b-tree (No, I am trying to find Lars! L-A-R-S!) On the tenth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Ten SNMP alerts flashing (What is that Godawful beeping?) Nine lady executives with attitude (No, it used to be a mens room. Why?) Eight MODEMs dialing (What Internet provider? We don't allow Internet here!) Seven license failures (SPA? Why are they calling us?) Six games a-playing (No, you don't need a graphics accelerator for Lotus!) Five golden SCSI contacts (You mean I need ANOTHER cable?) Four support calls (No, I never needed an account number before...) Three French users (When the PC sounds like a cat, it's a head crash!) Two transceiver failures (Power connection? What power connection?) And a database with a broken b-tree (Restore what index pointers?) On the eleventh day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Eleven boards a-frying (What is that terrible smell?) Ten SNMP alerts flashing (What's a MIB, anyway? What's an extension?) Nine lady executives with attitude (Mauve? Our computer room tiles in mauve?) Eight MODEMs dialing (What do you mean you let your roommate dial-in?) Seven license failures (How many other illegal copies do we have?!?!) Six games a-playing (I told you - AFTER HOURS!) Five golden SCSI contacts (If I knew what was wrong, I wouldn't be calling!) Four support calls (Put me on hold again and I will slash your credit rating!) Three French users (Don't hang your floppies with a magnet again!) Two transceiver failures (How should I know if the connector is bad?) And a database with a broken b-tree (I already did all of that!) On the twelfth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Twelve virtual pipe connections (There's only supposed to be two!) Eleven boards a-frying (What a surge suppressor supposed to do, anyway?) Ten SNMP alerts flashing (From a distance, it does kinda look like XMas lights.) Nine lady executives with attitude (What do you mean aerobics before backups?) Eight MODEMs dialing (No, we never use them to connect during business hours.) Seven license failures (We're all going to jail, I just know it.) Six games a-playing (No, no - my turn, my turn!) Five golden SCSI contacts (Great, just great! Now it won't even boot!) Four support calls (I don't have that package! How did I end up with you!) Three French users (I don't care if it is sexy, no more nude screen backgrounds!) Two transceiver failures (Maybe we should switch to token ring...) And a database with a broken b-tree (No, operator - Oslo, Norway. We were just talking and were cut off...) Felix ---------------------- "Shhh!... Be vewy, vewy quiet! I'm hunting wabbits." ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 06:56:46 -0500 From: Bill Stebbins Subject: A Poem For Boys Here's a poem that most women would want to have boys memorize by the time they're three years old... The grossest thing for me to see is my bathroom floor all full of pee. Why can't they make it in the bowl? Don't they see there is a hole? Out in the woods, they think it's cute to see how far a guy can "shoot." But in the house, it's plain to see there is a bowl in which you pee! (It's usually white & kinda round you hit the water, not the ground.) Why can't they make it in the bowl? Is it a problem with control? If not control, then tell me why they make my bathroom such a sty? Come on guys, get a clue! You know what you have to do. Be a human-not a pig and don't forget to lift the lid. When you're done, make it flush don't always be in such a rush. Then take the lid & push it down (don't make us women feel like clowns) Falling in, it is not fun getting water on your buns. Zip up your pants, & you're all done now wasn't that a lot of fun? Keep this little poem in mind Your woman will find you very kind. -- Author Unknown http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/bs16 http://members.xoom.com/bssixteen/ ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 07:09:13 -0500 From: Terry Galan Subject: A Y2K Ditty Millennium Pie (with apologies to Don McLean) A long, long time ago .... I can still remember how Computers used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, That I could make electrons dance, And maybe I'd be happy for a while. But January made me shiver, it chilled me deep down in my liver, Bad news I'd collected .... I couldn't get connected. I can't remember back that day When I first knew about the Y2K But something touched me anyway, The day computers died. CHORUS: So, .... Bye, bye to the next digit of Pi Ran my PC on some DC but the voltage was dry And good ol' boys were sending e-mail replies Saying this will be the day I retire, This will be the day I retire. Can you write in C plus plus? And do you have faith in your local bus If the driver tells you so? Do you believe in Compaq's goals Can software save your mortal soul And can you teach me how to type real slow? Well I thought that you were prepared 'Cause your memo said you weren't impaired Your stationery's swell But you can go to hell. I was a lonely teenage Unix hack With an incantation and a modem jack but I knew the cat had left the sack The day computers died I started singin'.... CHORUS Now for 10 years we've ignored the threat And we haven't solved the problem yet But that's not how it used to be. When the luddites read for the king and queen With a light they filled with kerosene And some manuals they stole from you and me. And while Bill Gates was looking pleased Time stole his monopolies The courtroom was adjourned No verdict was returned. While Apple tried a color scheme The engineers returned to steam And we had purges of their dreams The day computers died. We were singin' CHORUS Intel inside an iron smelter The food leftover from my fallout shelter Twinkies old and aging fast. But, I'd rather go and eat the grass As Q/A tried for a system crash With the tester on the sidelines in a cast. Now the timeshare net was running Doom While mainframes played a marching tune We all tried to log in Oh, but we never could begin 'Cause Cobol tried to take the field, And Hollerith refused to yield. Do you recall what was revealed, The day computers died? We started singing CHORUS There we were all in a state A generation - really late With no time left to start again So come on mouse be nimble, mouse be quick Don't let my spreadsheet data stick 'Cause data is the devil's only friend. As I watched him on my screen My hands and face were drenched in steam No angel born in hell Could run that stupid shell. And as the ball climbed high into the night To call the sacrificial night I saw Dick Clark laughing with delight the day computers died. He was singin' CHORUS I met a girl with a cell phone And I asked her for a dial tone But she just smiled and turned away. I went down to the software store Where I'd seen computers years before, But the man there said the games there wouldn't play. And in the streets the children screamed, The lovers cried and the poets dreamed, Their interface was spoken - The Internet was broken !!!! And the three things I connect to most - The Website, Lan and the Network host, Every single one was toast, The day the computers died!!! They were singin' Bye, bye to the next digit of Pi Ran my PC on some DC but the voltage was dry And good ol' boys were sending e-mail replies Saying this will be the day I retire. This will be the day I retire. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 07:33:13 -0500 From: Paul Benoit Subject: This Just In... I received a letter in the mail yesterday... ---------------------------------- December 31, 1999 Dear Paul: Well here it is, the end of another year, and as is my custom I take out a little time to write a few of my good friends, it is the time when I remember all the good things that have happened to me in the past twelve months. When I reflect on the value of the friendships I have cherished over the years. When, in fact, I indulge myself to the extent of waxing a bit sentimental. It's a dreary evening, the doorbell rings, intermittently, but here in my den it is cozy and comfortable and peaceful. I'm sitting before a nice open fire with my typewriter, sort of half-listening to the hi-fi, and slowly sipping a nice very dry double Martini. I surely wish you were here but since you are not, the least I can do is toast your health and happiness for the coming year so time out, old pal, while I bend my elbow with thoughts of you. I just took a recess to mix another Martini and while I was out in the kitchen I thought of all the time I would waste during the evening, chasing back and forth, so I just make up a big picther of martinies and broughggt it back in with me so I'd have it right here beside me and wouldn't have to wast time making more of them. So now I'm all set and here goes pal. Besides Marinis are a great drink. For some reason they never seem to have the effect on me in the slightest that they have on oter fellas. Can drinj them all day longg so here goes. The greatest think in tje whole word is friendship. A n believe me pal you are the greatet pal anybody every had. do you rember all the swel; times we had to gether pal/ The wonferful times on the road I8ll never forgt the time we were in Tledo and met that babe in the swlloon that redhesd. You rescl you. I remenber you kept puting brandey in my drinj whehn I wasennt looking and it make me sicj and you rascale you snuck ofd with the redheed brod. Ha. ha. Boy hoew we laughd dint't we. It was pretty funny anywah. I still laught abot it onec in whiel. Not as mcuch as usd to. But whag the hell after all you stilk my bedst old pal pal. And if a guy canot havr a laughg with a treu froe, md once in a wihle waht the fuxk. Escue me. Pictcher was empt so I just mde nother one. hot dam. I sure wish yoi were her olf pal help me drinj thes Martuni because they arw simptly delidious. I lifty my glasx to you good health oncemore you are the bests pall I got. Of cours why a pal would do a dirrty thing like that load up a pals drinj with branidy mak him sick as a dof, lousyt thing for antbody to do, onlhy a firdt class prock wold do a thing lije that. Wasnet a bit funny and if yoi thinj its funnyu you are aboyt the worsr dhit heeel I evre had the midforyune to make the aquantentce of you somb of birfh lous and as far as I am concerbed yot can go to helk and on th way kisa me ass. The ols perfwssrt ******************************* "I was here. Where were you? Back soon." -- Godot ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 3 Jan 2000 23:51:50 -0500 From: Lee Bradley Subject: The GRass is always greener Pauly went to his neighbor and asked, "Hey, Ben, do you like a woman who has a great big belly? "No," says Ben. Pauly asks, "Do you like a woman whose breasts hang down to her knees?" "No," says Ben "Well, Ben, would you like a woman whose hips are wide as two axhandles are long? "No way!" Ben replies. "Then tell me," asked Pauly, " why do you keep screwing my wife?" ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 13:30:23 -0600 From: Les Pourciau at UMem Subject: $25 George and Harriet decided to celebrate their 25th Wedding Anniversary with a trip to Las Vegas. When they entered the hotel/casino and registered, a sweet young woman dressed in a very short skirt became very friendly. George brushed her off. Harriet objected, "George, that young woman was nice, and you were so rude." "Harriet, she's a prostitute." "I don't believe you. That sweet young thing?" "Let's go up to our room and I'll prove it." In their room, George called down to the desk and asked for 'Bambi' to come to room 1217. "Now," he said, "you hide in the bathroom with the door open just enough to hear us, OK?" Soon, there was a knock on the door. George opened it and Bambi walked in, swirling her hips provocatively. George asked, "How much do you charge?" "$125 basic rate, $100 tips for special services." Even George was taken aback. "$125! I was thinking more in the range of $25." Bambi laughed derisively. "You must really be a hick if you think you can buy sex for that price." "Well," said George, "I guess we can't do business. Goodbye." After she left, Harriet came out of the bathroom. She said, "I just can't believe it!" George said, "Let's forget it. We'll go have a drink, then eat dinner." At the bar, as they sipped their cocktails, Bambi came up behind George, pointed slyly at Harriet, and said, "See what you get for $25?" ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 16:33:58 -0600 From: "Ken Brousseau Sr." Subject: Humor - Weird Business News #22 (1st of 3) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copied from Houston Chronicle Columnist, Jim Barlow: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Weird welcome to 'zed' decade. By JIM BARLOW Because of deadline problems, this column was written before the new year. If the Y2K bug caused the end of the world as we know it, you may quit reading now and go out and forage for acorns, poke salad or whatever is necessary to feed your family. Assuming we're all still here, welcome to the first Year 2000 edition of Weird Business News -- the monthly look at the wacky world of commerce. Our first award of the new year has yet to be handed out. It goes to the marketer who comes up with the name we will wind up adopting for this decade -- like the '70s, '80s and '90s. My nomination is "zed" -- the British word for Z which is also sometimes used for zero. It's shorter than "ought" which also has been suggested. The headline writers would love that. And come to think of it, we should also rename that Houston-based rock band Zed Zed Top. And speaking of names, reader Charles Boutcher believes the Best Company Name Award this month should go to BrainDrizzle.com. Second place in this category went to Neutral Posture Ergonomics, a Bryan manufacturer of ergonomic chairs. Of course no company name can come close to the zing of nicknames of Mafia figures -- usually hung on them by cops or reporters. Like those of the New Jersey Mob -- Tin Ear, Joey Cars, the Uncle and Vinny Ocean. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 5 Jan 2000 10:39:28 +0530 From: Chalapathi Rao Poduri Subject: The Most Intriguing Sound In The World A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?" The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." The man says, "All right, all right. I'm *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?" The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk." The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, "I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 31,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth." The monks reply, "Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound." The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, "The sound is right behind that door." The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, "Real funny. May I have the key?" The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it. Behind that door is *another* door, this one made of sapphire. So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, amethyst... Finally, the monks say, "This is the last key to the last door." The man is relieved to no end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound. But I can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk and neither am I one! :-) Chalapathi And His Four-Line Signature! :-) ------------------------------ End of HUMOR Digest - 4 Jan 2000 to 5 Jan 2000 (#2000-5) ********************************************************