Digest for Monday, January 01, 1996
There are 9 messages totalling 332 lines in this issue.
Topics of the day:
- Humor: You know youre getting older when...
- Shot in the dark?
- Cultural diffs
- David Brinkley early TV news goof-up
- Balls (Strictly adult theme!)
- Are you addicted to e-mail?
- SAVOIR-FAIRE (mild; suggestive)
- Letter to Home Office
- Algebra at Eden
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 08:10:11 +0600
From: Randall Woodman <randallw@ADSS.ESY.COM>
Subject: Humor: You know you're getting older when . . .
- Everything hurts and what doesn't hurt, doesn't work.
- The gleam in your eyes is from the sun hitting your bifocals.
- You feel like the night after, and you haven't been anywhere.
- Your little black book contains only names ending in M.D.
- You get winded playing chess.
- Your children begin to look middle aged.
- You're still chasing women but can't remember why.
- A dripping faucet causes an uncontrollable bladder urge.
- You know all the answers, but nobody asks you the questions.
- You look forward to a dull evening.
- You walk with your head high trying to get used to your bifocals.
- Your favorite part of the newspaper is "25 Years Ago Today..."
- You turn out the light for economic reasons rather than
romantic ones.
- You sit in a rocking chair and can't get it going.
- Your knees buckle and your belt won't.
- You regret all those mistakes resisting temptation.
- After painting the town red, you have to take a long rest
before applying a second coat.
- Dialing long distance wears you out.
- You're startled the first time you are addressed as an old timer.
- You just can't stand people who are intolerant.
- The best part of your day is over when your alarm clock goes off.
- You burn the midnight oil until 9 pm.
- Your back goes out more often than you do.
- A fortune teller offers to read your face.
- Your pacemaker makes the garage door go up when you watch
a pretty girl go by.
- The little grey haired lady you help across the street is
your wife.
- You have too much room in the house and not enough room in the
medicine cabinet.
- You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there.
-from gevans@onramp.net
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 12:16:33 EST
From: MR LYLE J KINNAMAN <FVKM43A@PRODIGY.COM>
Subject: Shot in the dark? <adult themes>
Two sportmen were hunting in the woods. While crossing a barbed
wire fence, one hunter got the trigger of his shotgun caught and
it fired hitting him in the crotch. Seeing his penis was bleeding
profusely from several wounds, his buddy said he'd better get him
over to his brother's house as soon as possible. Hurting badly,
the hunter asked, "Is your brother a good surgeon?"
"No, he's a piccolo player and he'll teach you how to 'finger'
yourself so you won't pee all over everything."
-Lyle's Joke Boutique
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 14:26:46 EST5EDT
From: Wayne Wood <WAYNE@PHYRES.LAN.MCGILL.CA>
Subject: Cultural diffs
2 more differences in english expressions between
UK and North America:
In UK, "to knock one up" means to knock on their door to wake them
up. In Canada it means to get someone prengant. I had fun with
that on while visiting UK with some Canadian friends I told a young
lady we would come by in the norning to knock her up. Too bad I
can't portray the looks on their faces across the Net.
In UK "up yours" is a drinking toast, I guess it is short for "up
your glass". Here, "up yours" is an insult, usually accompanied
by a raised middle finger, and means you should insert something
up your you-know-what. You can have lots of fun with that one,
but please be careful!
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 16:24:02 -0400
From: Curtis White <WHITE@CSTCC.CC.TN.US>
Subject: David Brinkley early TV news goof-up
Early TV news (late 1940's - early 1950's) was highly experimental,
broadcast "live," and plagued with unforeseen on-the-air foul-ups.
David Brinkley writes in his new autobiography, "David Brinkley -
A Memoir," of a particular incident he endured in the pre-Huntley
days - one of those things you can laugh at later, but seems like
a nightmare when it's happening. (Printed without permission:)
"One of Brinkley's first regularly-scheduled NBC TV news reports
was five minutes of air time at 6:00 p.m. filled with scraps of
film gathered during the day by a single cameraman, George Johnson,
a nice young man totally inexperienced and untrained in journalism,
working with a handheld, spring-wound silent-film camera, a Bell
and Howell Filmo, wandering alone around Washington during the day
looking for something, anything, to put on the air that night
Whatever he brought in was broadcast while I sat in a tiny studio
out of sight of the audience looking at a television screen and
narrating film I had never seen before. Rehearsals? There were't
any. While the film ran, I talked behind it, an engineer somewhere
else in the building played background music from a phonograph
record. Background music? Yes, we still thought we were doing
newsreels and they always had music, didn't they? Yes, of course.
Predictably, this messy procedure brought to the screen some
perfectly terrible programs.
This was the worst: One day, George Johnson brought in four small
film stories. When they were spliced together, the first in line
was a funeral of a departed dignitary in Arlington cemetery. The
second and third stories I have forgotten. The fourth was about
some kind of experiment with sheep at an Agriculture Department
station in nearby Maryland. The film was delivered to the control
room to be threaded into the projector. It was threaded in, but
backward. Nobody noticed. At 6:00 p.m., the projector started,
and somewhere down the hall an engineer started the music. What
went out on the air was sonorous, funereal music suitable for a
burial in Arlington while on the screen was a picture of a sheep
upside down. I sat, stunned and confused, in the little studio
looking at and listening to this mess and wondering what in God's
name I could do or say. Nothing, as it turned out. Looking at an
upside-down sheep I could do or say nothing but keep quiet and let
it run out to the finish. But others said it for me. For years
after, people on the streets and in elevators asked me, 'You ever
get that sheep back on its feet?'"
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 17:05:50 -0500
From: Doug McNees <PADLEOS@AOL.COM>
Subject: Balls (Strictly adult theme!)
Our story begins at the Olympics, specifically the wrestling event.
It is narrowed down to the Russian or the American for the gold
medal. Before the final match, the American wrestler's trainer
comes to him and says, "Now don't forget all the research we've
done on this Russian. He's never lost a match because of this
"pretzel" hold he has. Whatever you do, don't let him get you in
this hold! If he does, you're finished!" The wrestler nods in
agreement.
Now, to the match. The American and the Russian circle each other
several times looking for an opening. All of a sudden the Russian
lunges forward, grabbing the American and wrapping him up in the
dreaded pretzel hold. A sigh of disappointment goes up from the
crowd, and the trainer buries his face in his hands for he knows
all is lost. He can't watch the ending.
Suddenly there's a scream, a cheer from the crowd, and the trainer
raises his eye just in time to see the Russian flying up in the
air. The Russian's back hits the mat with a thud, and the American
weakly collapses on top of him, getting the pin and winning the
match.
The trainer is astounded! When he finally gets the American
wrestler alone, he asks, "How did you ever get out of that hold?
No one has ever done it before!" The wrestler answers, "Well, I
was ready to give up when he got me in that hold, but at the last
moment, I opened my eyes and saw this pair of balls right in front
of my face. I thought I had nothing to lose, so with my last ounce
of strength I stretched out my neck and bit those babies just as
hard as I could. You'd be amazed how strong you get when you bite
your own balls!"
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 15:50:03 MST7MDT
From: Scott De Mann <colliers@STUDENT.NS.SUU.EDU>
Subject: Are you addicted to e-mail?
15 SYMPTOMS OF INTERNET DEPENDANCY:
(join us in the war on internet addiction, just say NO!!!)
1. How many times have you checked your e-mail today?
2. How often do you wonder who's written you on e-mail?
3. How often do you ask other people to use their terminals
to check your e-mail?
4. How often do you ask people to send you e-mail?
5. How often do you send e-mail to someone who lives right next
door to you? or is in the same room as you? someone you see
everyday?
6. Do you search your addressbook for someone new to e-mail that
you barely know or don't know at all?
7. Do you get more excited when someone e-mails you, rather than
writing a letter or calling by phone?
8. Have you ever e-mailed someone you don't know, and have never
even seen before, just to make some smart-ass comment and see
if you get a response?
9. Do you spend Friday or Saturday nights in front of your
computer screen on e-mail or the Internet?
10. Do you call people just to get their e-mail address, and then
hang-up, only to e-mail them immediately afterwards.
11. Do you have other people e-mail people you've e-mailed just to
encourage them to get off their asses and e-mail you back
12. Do you write senseless things on e-mail late at night or in the
day and send them to friends just for the Hell of it?
13. Do you call people just to tell them you e-mailed them, and
then hang-up so they can read their e-mail, and hopefully
respond?
14. Does e-mail and the Internet distract you from obligations and
time spent with loved ones?
15. Do you find yourself sitting in front of the screen wondering
what new, screwed-up types of things you can put on the
Internet (i.e.; pictures out of words and punctuation marks, or
smart-ass quizzes like this?)
If you answered yes to any of these problems, get your ass away
from the computer screen and take a long walk!!! You're pathetic
You have a serious problem with this whole e-mail thing, and are
addicted to modern technology, having your mind, and voice sucked
out of you. Do you even interact with people anymore? Be careful,
stopping cold turkey can be very dangerous-serious withdrawls can
occur, leaving a person twitching, and typing into thin air,
senselessly mumbling addresses and passwords that have been
changed. Please go see someone about this problem. Addiction to
the Internet is serious, and can be as threstening as alcohol or
drug addiction. If you or someone you know has an Internet
dependancy, please contact some professionals at e-mail:
we'reallscrewedup@internet.isbad.andweneed.2getalife
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 19:01:43 -0500
From: Harold Browning <hbrownin@CAPACCESS.ORG>
Subject: SAVOIR-FAIRE (mild; suggestive)
An American couple was traveling in France. They made adequate
preparations for their trip, including learning many French
phrases. While there, they had a difference of opinion about the
word "savoir-faire". To settle the disagreement, they approached
three teen-agers for clarification. In Franglais, fractured
English, they tried.
The first fellow said, "Let me use an example to explain. The
husband comes home, goes into the bedroom and finds his wife in bed
with a man. 'I'm sorry', he says and leaves the bedroom. ZAT is
'savoir-faire" .
The other two fellows are yelling, "no, no". The second one takes
over the explanation, saying "In your example, when the husband
walks into the bedroom, he says, 'I'm sorry, PLEASE go on' and he
leaves. Now, ZAT is 'savoir-faire' ".
The third fellow is saying " NO, NO, NO. Let me tell what is
'savoir-faire " . He continues - " using the very same situation,
the husband says,' I'm so sorry, PLEASE go on' and he leaves. NOW,
if the man is able to CONTINUE - ZAT is 'savoir-faire' ".
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 23:05:20 -0800
From: Charles Hightower <chigh@WSNET.COM>
Subject: Letter to Home Office <clean>
How s life? I have to say things have improved in San Diego since
I arrived on Sunday. Of course, that s only because Sunday was a
long travel day, capped of by a blazing finish.
I arrive at the hotel and discover I ve been saved a room facing
the interstate -- cars roaring past, horns blaring. No problem --
I m too tired to pay much attention. I decide to take a shower to
relax some. Spend twenty minutes standing in the tub, waiting for
the water to creep up to a comfortable temperature. It must have
gotten hotter than I realized, because by the time I finished, the
bathroom was filled with steam. I open the bathroom door, steam
curling out around the edges.
Now, did I mention there s a smoke alarm immediately outside the
bathroom door? Mounted on the ceiling, it stands ready to warn me
of impending danger from fire and smoke. And water vapor. The
smoke alarm detects the presence of the always dangerous shower
steam and begins blaring, eventually leading to my nomination as
most favorite hotel guest... but that s another story. So now I m
fanning the alarm & throwing whatever is handy in its direction --
socks, bedspreads.
Next thing I know, a representative from hotel security is pounding
on my door. What could HE want at this hour? It turns out he s
become aware of my problem, and is interested in silencing the
alarm before the local volunteer fire department arrives to hose
down my room.
With a really well-aimed shot with a pillow (I applauded his
marksmanship), he clipped the angry buzzer and it silenced, leaving
my ears ringing in its memory. By now, a small crowd had assembled
outside my door, the people in various stages of undress -- which
reminds me -- where exactly do you buy boxer shorts covered in
pictures of country-western singers? Although I offered door
prizes of baby soap and tissues, the spectators quickly lost
interest and went back to their rooms; the security guard to his
rounds.
Since then, life has improved immensely. I ve moved to the side of
the hotel facing away from the interstate, and my new room has one
of those high-security doorlocks. You know, the kind that takes
two hands and a foot to angle the door so the key will turn in the
lock. And in this room, the shower doesn t set off the alarm.
Though I do sort of miss the excitement.
Charles
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Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 23:35:33 -0500
From: EITAN E. ISRAELI <SAC10@IBMVM.HAI.IEC.CO.IL>
Subject: Algebra at Eden
Q: How many apples have been eaten in the Garden of Eden?
A: Eleven (11):
Eve ate (8)
Adam too (2)
and the devil won (1)
---
11
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