Digest for Tuesday, January 04, 2000
There are 9 messages totalling 538 lines in this issue.
Topics of the day:
- The Investment of a Lifetime
- The Twelve Days of Technology
- A Poem For Boys
- A Y2K Ditty
- This Just In...
- The GRass is always greener
- $25
- Humor - Weird Business News #22 (1st of 3)
- The Most Intriguing Sound In The World
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 16:43:51 +0800
From: Yeow Jit San (Benjamin) (Central) <JSYEOW@DIGI.COM.MY>
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 <jmmd@pd.jaring.my>
Our Fun Site, http://www.penang.org/JMMD/
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 10:35:26 +0200
From: Felix Chirciu <felix@ZIUA.RO>
Subject: The Twelve Days of Technology <part 2 of 2>
(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."
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 06:56:46 -0500
From: Bill Stebbins <bs16@CORNELL.EDU>
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/
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 07:09:13 -0500
From: Terry Galan <galante@MCMAIL.CIS.MCMASTER.CA>
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.
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 07:33:13 -0500
From: Paul Benoit <pbenoit@SPEEDLINETECH.COM>
Subject: This Just In... <adult>
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
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Date: Mon, 3 Jan 2000 23:51:50 -0500
From: Lee Bradley <lbradley@VALDOSTA.EDU>
Subject: The GRass is always greener <adult>
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?"
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 13:30:23 -0600
From: Les Pourciau at UMem <POURCIAU@LATTE.MEMPHIS.EDU>
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?"
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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 16:33:58 -0600
From: Ken Brousseau Sr. <kenbruso@IO.COM>
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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Date: Wed, 5 Jan 2000 10:39:28 +0530
From: Chalapathi Rao Poduri <chaps@TC4HQ.CMCLTD.COM>
Subject: The Most Intriguing Sound In The World <clean>
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! :-)
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