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Yucks Digest V6 #1 (shorts)
Yucks Digest Tue, 16 Jan 96 Volume 6 : Issue 1
Today's Topics:
Administrivia
'Tis the Season!
(Fwd) tis the season
12 Redneck Days of Christmas
A new context for "best offer".
A submission to Yucks
Early Retirement
Fwd: NETWORKING TALE FOR THE HOLIDAYS
Grandpa's Christmas Fruitcake Recipe
Happy November 1 and the day after Christmas...
JOTD
Political JOTD
PRESS RELEASE: Novell admits helping Microsoft
Property Gambler Frustrated by 120-Year-Old
Quote of the day (2 msgs)
Santa is a Sys Admin.
Seasonal Humor for next season...
The Collected Nights Before Christmas
The "Yucks" digest is a moderated list of the bizarre, the unusual,
the sometimes risque, the possibly insane, and the (usually) humorous.
It is issued on a semi-regular basis, as the whim and time present
themselves.
Back issues can be obtained via Gopher as
gopher://gopher.cs.purdue.edu/11/Purdue_cs/Users/spaf/yucks/gopher
and subscriptions can be obtained using a mail server. Send
mail to "yucks-request@cs.purdue.edu" with a "Subject:" line of the
single word "help" for instructions.
Submissions and problem reports should be sent to spaf@cs.purdue.edu
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Jan 15, 1996
From: spaf
Subject: Administrivia
Happy New Year!
I bet a lot of you were wondering what had happened to Yucks (or me).
Well, at least one or two of you were wondering, I'm sure.
Last year, as my work on the rewrite of "Practical Unix Security"
ground on and on, I decided to put my full writing efforts into it,
and not into Yucks or other projects. The rewrite took longer than we
thought. However, you're reading this, so that must mean...the
rewrite is done! Yes, O'Reilly's crew is doing the typesetting now.
The book has grown from 450 pages in the first edition to over 1000
printed pages. The title is now "Practical Unix and Internet
Security" and it is due in bookstores in March. If you want more
details, point a WWW browser at <http://www.ora.com/item/pus2.html>.
(And yes, there are some humorous stories and jokes buried in the
text, but you must buy a copy to find them. :-)
So now I have to try to catch up on the backlog of things you folks
have continued to submit to me for Yucks. I have over 900 items in
the "in basket" plus another 700 from before the hiatus. Whew! We'll
see what we can do. I'll start with some Christmas Yucks plus some
filler, and then try to go through the rest in more or less
chronological order.
Oh, and this starts Volume #6.
Also, if you are interested in WWW sites similar in philosophy and
(lack of) taste, you can check out and contribute to my "web-heads"
material:
<http://www.cs.purdue.edu/homes/spaf/hotlists/web-heads.html>.
Toodles for now!
--spaf
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 13 Dec 1995 19:05:04 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: 'Tis the Season!
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: Carl Staelin <staelin@cello.hpl.hp.com>
From: Jeff Sidell <jsidell@postgres.Berkeley.EDU>
>From my friend Lisa in LA:
Though he's maintained a low profile since O.J. Simpson was
acquitted of double murder charges, Judge Lance Ito apparently
hasn't lost his sense of humor. Sources say he sent out holiday
cards featuring a photo of himself on the bench, face buried in
his hands, above the caption: "Objection overruled, Mr. Cochran.
White Christmas does not have racist overtones."
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 4 Dec 1995 12:55:50 -0500
From: eam@baseworx.cb.att.com (Beth Marshburn)
Subject: (Fwd) tis the season
To: yucks
'Twas the Night Before Start-up
'Twas the night before start-up and all through the net,
not a packet was moving; no bit nor octet.
The engineers rattled their cards in despair,
hoping a bad chip would blow with a flare.
The salesmen were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of data nets danced in their heads.
And I with my datascope tracings and dumps
prepared for some pretty bad bruises and lumps.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
There stood at the threshold with PC in tow,
An ARPANET hacker, all ready to go.
I could see from the creases that covered his brow,
he'd conquer the crisis confronting him now.
More rapid than eagles, he checked each alarm
and scrutinized each for its potential harm.
On LAPB, on OSI, X.25!
TCP, SNA, V.35!
His eyes were afire with the strength of his gaze;
no bug could hide long; not for hours or days.
A wink of his eye and a twitch of his head,
soon gave me to know I had little to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
fixing a net that had gone plumb berserk;
And laying a finger on one suspect line,
he entered a patch and the net came up fine!
The packets flowed neatly and protocols matched;
the hosts interfaced and shift-registers latched.
He tested the system from Gateway to PAD;
not one bit was dropped; no checksum was bad.
At last he was finished and wearily sighed
and turned to explain why the system had died.
I twisted my fingers and counted to ten;
an off-by-one index had done it again...
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 19 Dec 1995 11:59:54 -0700
From: cdash@ludell.uccs.edu (Charlie Shub)
Subject: 12 Redneck Days of Christmas
To: spaf
Forwarded By
: druffner@cymbal.aix.calpoly.edu
=> Jeff Foxworthy's 12 Days of Christmas
=>
=> 12 pack of Bud
=> 11 wrestling tickets
=> 10 Copenhagen
=> 9 years probation
=> 8 table dancers
=> 7 packs Redman
=> 6 cans of Spam
=> 5 Flannel shirts
=> 4 big mud tires
=> 3 shotgun shells
=> 2 hunting dogs
=> and some parts to a Mustang GT
=>
=> If you sing it, it is really pretty funny.
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 4 Jan 1996 12:05:05 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: A new context for "best offer".
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: Golan Klinger <falco@update.com>
From: Mike Duffy <mike.duffy@sympatico.ca>
Newsgroups: ont.forsale
Subject: FS Albino Cockroach (Live)
Date: 2 Jan 1996 02:43:42 GMT
Yes, I caught it in my sink last night. I understand that some cultures
consider these things to be lucky (albinoes that is, not neccessarily
cockroaches).
Right now it's in a little jar with holes punched in the lid. I put in
some water and xmas turkey leftover, and it seems lively enough. I'll
sell it for the best offer I get by next week. (I'll probably post in
the entomology newsgroups as well.)
[No, there is not some subtle link to Christmas here. I filed it in
the wrong mailbox, and didn't discover it until I made the digest.
So, chalk it up as a mystery of the holidays. And get your bids in.
--spaf]
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 12 Jan 1995 01:17:54 -0500 (EST)
From: graham@mhn.org (Graham Mainwaring)
Subject: A submission to Yucks
To: spaf
Lately, Yucks has carried articles about Santa being investigated by the
ATF, Santa being checked out by the FAA, and so forth. While amusing in
an abstract sort of way, these cannot be taken too seriously, due to
obvious factual errors.
SANTA IS A CANADIAN.
He lives at the North Pole, doesn't he? That's part of Canada. It's in
the Northwest Territories, by all accounts a rather odd place, quite
suitable for an eccentric like Santa. They say that one day it may become
a province; or perhaps two.
Still, better that than the alternative. If Canada were just a little
less northerly, Santa would be in Siberia. And who knows what
catastrophic effect that might have had on the development of children in
America in the 1950s? Can you imagine a four-year-old announcing to
his undershirt-wearing, beer-drinking Dad that Santa is a Russkie? Once
word got out, Senator McCarthy would have Santa up for un-American
behavior. Except he's not American to begin with, so why anyone should
expect anything other than un-American behavior is beyond me.
Actually, Santa's real problem is that since 1992 he has been forced to
pay GST (Canada's value added tax) on all the toys his elves manufacture.
This explains why he's been setting up shop in the department stores in
mid-October lately; he needs the extra revenue to cover his tax bill. The
current Prime Minister, Jean Chretien, was elected in a landslide victory
on campaign promises of repealing the GST--and while the press doesn't
like to admit it, the lion's share of those votes resulted from Santa's
announcement that anyone voting against the dreaded tax would get an
automatic "nice" for that year.
Ok, some of you are probably still skeptical. I have one further bit of
proof to offer. Consider that the American flag is red, white and blue,
while the Canadian flag is just red and white. Now, ask yourself this:
Does Santa's uniform have *any* blue on it at all?
-Graham
------------------------------
Date: Sat, 2 Dec 95 19:30:04 EST
From: larry@birdsong.sunnyvale.ca.us (Lawrence T. Hardiman)
Subject: Early Retirement
Newsgroups: rec.humor.funny
Sent to me by a colleague.
>From: WITT_JOANN@tandem.com
>Message-Id: <199511271139.AA23353@gateway.cpd.tandem.com>
>Subject: Early Retirement
<Forwards deleted>
Courtesy Norm Windle via Gary "Shamu" Eschenberg
The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take
the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of
concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other
restructuring decisions at the North Pole.
Streamlining is due to the North Pole's loss of dominance of the
season's gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail
order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share. He could not
sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture.
The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a
late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved
productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard
Business School, is anticipated. Reduction in reindeer will also
lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has
received unfavorable press.
I am pleased to inform you that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed.
Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management
denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that
Rudolph's nose got that way, not from the cold, but from substance
abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did
pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one
of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of year when he
is known to be under executive stress.
As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the
North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps.
Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take
place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary:
- The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out
to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic
hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance;
- The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not
cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours
could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated;
- The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone
loves the French;
- The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail
system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to
determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long
they talked;
- The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of
Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could
have negative implications for institutional investors.
Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of
T-Bills and high technology stocks appear to be in order;
- The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be
afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one
egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in
productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the
selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from
now on every goose it gets will be a good one;
- The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better
times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans
are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some
new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement;
- As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under
heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce
is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end
job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit
the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching;
- Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function
will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no
longer do the steps;
- Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the
expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation
Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work
congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed,
the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of
unemployed congressmen this year;
- Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case
of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string
quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce
savings which will drop right down to the bottom line;
We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl,
animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that
stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can
drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved.
Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking
expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen
lawyers-a-suing") action is pending.
Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be
necessary in the future to stay competitive. Should that happen, the
Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division
to see if seven dwarfs is the right number.
------------------------------
Date: Sat, 16 Dec 1995 14:27:46 -0500
From: Dolinar@aol.com
Subject: Fwd: NETWORKING TALE FOR THE HOLIDAYS
To: jack.rickard@boardwatch.com, spaf, nicholas_petreley@infoworld.com
i almost died. who is this guy?
---------------------
Forwarded message:
From: rossnick_ron@jpmorgan.com (zzRossnick, Ron)
Date: 95-12-15 16:19:41 EST
NETWORKING TALE FOR THE HOLIDAYS
A Networkologist's Christmas (v3.1)
by Timothy Haight
Tis the night before Christmas," I thought with a frown.
I was stuck at the office. The network was down.
The routers were hung in the closet. All crashed.
Their tables had holes in their data. All trashed.
Remote distribution, it seems, just for fun,
Had erased DLLs Windows needed to run
On 84 desktops way down in accounting.
I sat stunned at my desk, my blood pressure mounting.
When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,
I saw that a server had something the matter.
There was smoke coming out of the main hard disk drive.
"No problem," I thought. "I'm set up with RAID 5."
But I found out the system I thought was unstoppable
Had disk drives that turned out completely unswappable!
"No problem," I thought. "I've tape backup to thank."
And then I discovered my backups were blank.
The UPS burped, and its lights all went out.
I started to scream! I started to shout!
But nobody heard as I vented my rage.
My gurus were all on vacation those days.
And nobody's tech support answered the phone.
I was nose deep in trouble, completely alone.
When out at reception, I heard a soft knock.
As the hands just touched midnight on my desktop clock...
"What's your problem?" he asked.
"Never mind, friend, I know.
I checked out your network five hours ago.
I did some proactive analysis, so
I knew that this time bomb was going to blow."
Who was this guy? Who did he think that he was?
He was dressed in red coveralls, white beard, black gloves.
His eyes had the twinkle of technical genius.
His smile cut down personal distance between us.
He spread out his tools, and went straight to his work.
"Whoever configured this network's a jerk,"
He said with a :-)> as he quickly rebooted,
Uploaded some software, and smoothly rerouted
The LAN to a WAN that he quickly supplied
With bandwidth at least 20 gigabits wide
That went via wireless, I think, LEO,
To tech support elves waiting at the North Pole.
"Now bridging, now routing, now Ethernet hubs!"
He chanted as each piece of hardware he rubbed.
"Cheer up, my good friend! Lose that mindset so tragic!
Technology often looks just like some magic
To people who don't understand what we do.
Now a switch, emulation, now middleware glue!
Look at the protocols, check one or two,
Debug a bit, test a bit, presto! We're through!"
My data was back! Every system checked out!
Tears of joy wet my face as I wandered about.
"How can I thank you? You must be Saint Nick!"
He said, "Really, my friend, it's not such a great trick,
If you don't give up hope, focus on what you're doing,
And read all your issues of Network Computing."
And I heard him exclaim, as his reindeer were coursing,
"Merry Christmas to all! And consider outsourcing!"
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 22 Dec 1995 11:05:05 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Grandpa's Christmas Fruitcake Recipe
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: John Kunze <jak@ckm.ucsf.edu>
Forwarded-by: rsr@violet.berkeley.edu
Grandpa's Christmas Fruitcake Recipe
You'll need the following: a cup of water, a cup of sugar, four large
brown eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown,
sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whiskey.
Sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again. To be sure it's the highest
quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer,
beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar
and beat again.
Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer.
Beat two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Mix on the tuner. If the fired druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it
loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt.
Or something. Who cares? Check the whiskey. Now sift the lemon juice and
strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever
you can find.
Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat
off the turner. Throw the bowl out the window. Check the whiskey again
and go to bed.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 95 00:38:54 -0800
From: Peter Langston <psl@wolfenet.com>
Subject: Happy November 1 and the day after Christmas...
To: Fun_People@wolfenet.com
From: Robert.Reynolds@directory.Reed.EDU (Robert Reynolds)
Sorry to have forgotten to wish everyone a Merry Christmas today, being that
OCT 31 = DEC 25.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 3 Jan 1996 17:05:03 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: JOTD
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: dfitzpat@interserv.com
In the News: Argus Hamilton on US troops sent from Germany to Bosnia:
"Russia is worried about the large number of US forces there. It wants
to know if this leaves Germany completely on the honor system."
Leno, on the former Tammy Fay Bakker's new daytime talk show: "This is
the first time the host of a show is more dysfunctional than any of the
guests."
Leno, on House Speaker Newt Gingrich: "You see his new plan? He feels
the systems of one Santa for the whole country should be replaced by 450
individual Santas working at the state level."
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 18 Dec 1995 15:05:03 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Political JOTD
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: dfitzpat@interserv.com
In the News: Argus Hamilton, on The Newt lighting the Capitol Hill
Christmas tree: "By the tree were Three Wise Man , bearing gifts from
afar. Newt took their envelopes and told them, 'Scram, the heat's on'"
Cutler Daily Scoop, on the president claiming executive privilege for
some Whitewater meeting notes: "And you thought that you had to wait
until Christmas to see 'Nixon'."
Hugh Fink, on the first woman president of the National Rifle
Association: "And the NRA's new motto is 'Guns Don't Kill... do
I look fat in this?"
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 17:05:01 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: PRESS RELEASE: Novell admits helping Microsoft
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: Wendell Craig Baker <wbaker@splat.baker.com>
Forwarded-By: Bill Bush <bill@bush.com>
Forwarded-By: Randy Enger <enger@atria.com>
PRESS RELEASE: Novell admits aiding Microsoft
In a joint press conference early this morning, the Chief Executives of
Microsoft and Novell revealed that their companies had been working
together to increase Microsoft's dominance of the computer industry. In
a secret partnership with Microsoft, Novell has been strategically
acquiring Microsoft's major competitors in the software industry and
ruining them.
The relationship goes back a number of years, according to Microsoft
Chairman Bill Gates. "[Digital Research's] DR-DOS 5.0 was ten times the
operating system that MS-DOS 4.01 was. We couldn't even steal technology
fast enough to compete. That was when we first contacted Novell." Under
direction from Microsoft, Novell then purchased Digital Research, a small
California company best known for its CP/M operating system.
Novell CEO Bob Frankenburg continued, "We let the developers release
DR-DOS 6.0, which unfortunately was a success, but then we jumped in with
both feet. By the time we were done with it, Novell DOS 7 wouldn't even
interoperate well with NetWare!" All development on Digital Research's
product was subsequently halted in September 1994.
Frankenberg also explained their second target. "When it became obvious
that Windows NT wouldn't be able to hold a candle to Unix, it was agreed
that Novell should buy Unix Systems Laboratories from AT&T to destroy it."
The destruction of Unix was accomplished by Novell's pushing of UnixWare
and by carefully planned licensing fiascoes. "Once the damage was
complete, we pushed it off on SCO [Santa Cruz Operation]."
The latest joint venture was the destruction of Microsoft's competition
in the Windows application market. "Under the guise of creating a rival
suite, Novell bought up Wordperfect and Quattro Pro," Gates explained.
"Under our direction, all OS/2 development was halted and significant bugs
were introduced in the release. [Microsoft] Excel wasn't half the
spreadsheet that Quattro Pro was when Borland owned it, and look at us
now!" Novell's intention to sell the PerfectOffice Suite was announced on
October 30. "We're done," said Frankenberg.
When asked about the prospect of competition from the new software giant
created by the IBM/Lotus merger, Frankenburg replied, "We expect IBM to
do a better job of destroying Lotus than we could have ever done."
Many industry insiders were taken by surprise. "It explains a lot," said
Hewlett Packard employee Mike Lund. "We never could figure out what the
hell Novell thought they were doing with Unix."
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 8 Jan 96 23:28 CST
From: Ron Heiby <heiby@falkor.chi.il.us>
Subject: Property Gambler Frustrated by 120-Year-Old
To: spaf
PARIS, Dec 27 (Reuter) - A lawyer who gambled in a 1965 property
deal that an elderly woman would soon die, only to see her live to
become the world's oldest person, has himself died aged 77.
Lawyer Andre-Francois Raffray was buried on Wednesday in the
southern French city of Arles after dying on Christmas day, a
secretary in his law firm said.
The woman, Jeanne Calment, celebrated Christmas with a meal at
an Arles hotel, looking forward to her 121st birthday on February 21,
the Arles city hall said.
When Calment was 90, Raffray, then 47, agreed to pay her a "rent"
of 2,500 francs ($500) a month until she died, on condition he would
inherit her house in Arles, a system common in France.
Over the next 30 years, Raffay paid Calment more than 900,000
francs ($180,000), three times the value of the house.
"We all make bad deals in life," Calment joked to Raffray on her
120th birthday.
Calment reached 120 years 238 days on October 17, passing the
previous greatest authenticated age of 120 years 237 days achieved
by Japan's Schigechiyo Izumi, who died in 1986.
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 22 Dec 1995 10:05:04 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Quote of the day
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: labach@acs.ucalgary.ca
Forwarded-by: qotd-request@ensu.ucalgary.ca (Quote of the day)
The PC is not a particularly interesting device -- it is pretty horrible
from almost every vantage point. I guess they are cheap -- you can buy
them in parking lots across the country. But they don't represent a
particularly great use of technology. Microsoft owns all the application
categories, anyway, and they have no real interest in doing much
innovation, so the whole PC space is just kind of boring. I mean, what's
the big new thing now in PCs? I guess people are going to get Doom chips
for Christmas, and we'll have a little animation. Big deal.
-- Sun Microsystems co-founder Bill Joy, in The RED
HERRING, Issue 24.
(http://www.herring.com/mag/issue24/bill.html)
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 14:05:03 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Quote of the day
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: editor@mbnet.mb.ca (Duncan Thornton)
Forwarded-by: qotd-request@ensu.ucalgary.ca (Quote of the day)
.... At Christmas 1984, _The Economist_ sought predictions on four
trends in the British and world economy over the next decade. Participating
in the poll were four multi-national company chairmen, four Oxford
students, four finance members drawn from the Organization for Economic
Co-operation and Development and four garbagemen (called "dustmen" in the
U.K.).
In the final tally, the dustmen tied with the company chairmen. The
Oxford students and the finance ministers were miles behind.
On the question of the value of the pound against the U.S. Dollar,
which was $1.20 in 1984, the dustmen came closest to the pound's current
value of $1.60. The experts had predicted that the pound would drop below
$1.00 (U.S.).
The refuse shifters also came closest to predicting the current
price of a barrel of oil, down from $29 a barrel in 1984 to $17 today.
Experts predicted that the price would rise to about $40.
The dustmen and the company chairmen were in almost a dead heat in
correctly forecasting that Singapore's gross domestic product would
overtake that of Australia. The others thought it would never happen.
Business experts have tended to downplay the success of the garbage
collectors in the ten-year forecast, but the dustman's union is making the
most of the triumph of the working man. A union official commented to the
_Manchester Guardian_: "It proves that the Chancellor of the Exchequer
doesn't need six wise men. He just needs to talk to the dustman-in-the-
street."
-- The Winnipeg Free Press
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 7 Dec 1995 18:05:01 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: Santa is a Sys Admin.
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
Forwarded-by: Larry Hunter <hunter@nlm.nih.gov>
Forwarded by: Melissa McVicker <melissa@avance.com>
[Origin unknown.]
I was musing on similarities between Santa Claus and system administrators.
Consider:
1. Santa is bearded, corpulent, and dresses funny.
2. When you ask Santa for something, the odds of receiving what you wanted
are infinitesimal.
3. Santa seldom answers your mail.
4. When you ask Santa where he gets all the stuff he's got, he says, "Elves
make it for me."
5. Santa doesn't care about your deadlines.
6. Your parents ascribed supernatural powers to Santa, but did all the work
themselves.
7. Nobody knows who Santa has to answer to for his actions.
8. Santa laughs entirely too much.
9. Santa thinks nothing of breaking into your $HOME.
10. Only a lunatic says bad things about Santa in his presence.
[Heck, I qualify for about 8 out of 10 of those. --spaf]
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 95 23:22:19 -0800
From: Peter Langston <psl@wolfenet.com>
Subject: Seasonal Humor for next season...
To: Fun_People@wolfenet.com
Excerpted-from: Laugh Of The Day - Thu, Nov 02 1995
From: Jascha Franklin-Hodge <JoeShmoe@Misty.com>
How come you never hear anything about the 10th reindeer "Olive" ?
Olive ?
Yeah, you know, "Olive the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names"
Why is Christmas just like a day at the office ?
You do all the work and the fat guy with the suit gets all the credit.
How are a Christmas tree and a priest alike ?
They both have ornamental balls.
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 19 Dec 1995 19:05:02 -0500
From: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic)
Subject: The Collected Nights Before Christmas
To: /dev/null@python.bostic.com
[The last one is a bit... risque. Of course, most of you will jump to
that one first now that I've warned you. --spaf]
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Things were real mellow, even Irving, the Mouse.
Our boots were hung up, the incense was lit,
In hope that St. Nick would soon do his bit.
The tree was decked out; it was really a sight,
With love beads and flowers and a flashing strobe light.
Wearing my T-shirt from the Woodstock Nation,
I was getting into some good meditation.
And my chick was doing some Yoga in bed,
Munching a fruit cake, while propped on her head.
Then.. POW!! ...in the night... ...a hullabaloo!
It shook up the waterbed and woke up Old Blue.
I stumbled around and tripped on my beard.
It stuck to my toes and felt really weird.
When I got to the window, I was really uptight,
'Cause the scene I perceived was a mind-blowing sight!
What through my shades did I see through the snow,
But eight tiny mooses and a wild U.F.O.!
With the hip dude inside, looking kinky and groovy...
I flashed... "If this ain't Nick, it must be the late movie."
They blew in from the cosmos like some far-out caboose
And this Fat Cat kept yelling at each midget moose.
"Right On, Dasher! On, Dancer! GET IT ON...DO YOUR THING!
Get your bods in high gear, now, and move this machine!"
Then onto the roof they flew with a shout,
The whole Kosmic Crew really freaked me out!
They caused such a hassle And made such a fuss,
I thought someone would call the fuzz down on us.
But before I could say, "COOL IT!... HOLD DOWN THAT LOUD JIVE,"
Nick zapped toward the chimney and leaped in with a dive!
As he trucked from the fireplace, his smile all agleam,
I thought, "IT'S UNREAL! It must be a dream!"
Then he nodded and said, "This ain't a bummer...
Like, I've come in peace, to groove my Yule Number."
His duds were all fur, trimmed in leather and such
And he came on Stone Funky... He was really too much.
His back-pack was painted with black-light festoon,
Full of albums and posters and a neon balloon.
His eyes, a light show! His beard, da-glo bright!
A plastic, fantastic, Kaleidoscope sight!
He looked like a guru, this beautiful cat...
I thought, like, wow! ...This dude knows where it's at!
"Don't want to sound heavy," he said with a grin,
"My message is simple, so dig it...tune in."
"I brought you some goodies, but that's not the real thing.
My real trip is bringing good vibes to this scene."
So we rapped until dawn about Peace, Love, and Truth,
Then he said, "Gotta split, now, or I'll be late in Duluth."
And he wiggled his nose and said, "I did my bit!",
And straight up the chimney that Fat Cat did split!
As he sped from the roof and into the air,
He shouted, "Let's get it together, all you people down there!"
"Merry Christmas To All, And to all a Good Night!",
And then in a flash, He streaked out of sight!!!
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Christmas in Academe
'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period
preceding the annual yuletide celebration, and throughout
out place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence
among the possessors of this potential, including that
species of domestic rodent known as "Mus musculus". Hosiery
was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory
pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric
philanthropist among those folkloric appellations is the
honorific title of St. Nicholas.
The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in
their respecitive accommodations of repose, were experienc-
ing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit
confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My
conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head cover-
ings, were about to take slumbrous advantage of the hibernal
darkness when upon the evenaceous exterior portion of the
grounds there ascended such a cacaphony of dissonance that I
felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of
repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source
thereof.
Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the bar-
riers sealing the fenestration, noting thereupon that the
lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface
of a recent crystalline precipitation might be said to rival
that of the solar meridian itself--thus permitting my
incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature
airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight dimunitive
specimens of the genus "Rangifer", piloted by a minuscule,
aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became
instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated
caller. With his ungulated motive power traveling at what
may possibly been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic
alar predators, he vociferatd loudly, expelled breath musi-
cally through contracted labia. and addressed each of the
octet by his or her respective cognomens--"Now Dasher, now
Dancer..." et al.--guiding them to the uppermost exterior
level of our abode, through which structure I could really
distinguish the concatanations of each of the 32 cloven
pedal extremities.
As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location,
and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished
visitant achieved--with utmost celerity and via a downward
leap--entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad
entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from
oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on
the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I
attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings
which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.
His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity,
while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evi-
dence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar
regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood
which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approxi-
mating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter
that of the "Prunus avium", or sweet cherry. His amusing
sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common
loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment
appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen
water.
Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking
piece whose gray fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his
occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of
holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he
waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undu-
lated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemis-
pherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less
than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical per-
ception of whom rended me visibly frolicsome despite every
effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and
then elevating the eyelid and rotating his head slightly to
one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was
groundless.
Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced fil-
ling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the
afore-mentioned articles of merchandise extracted from his
aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth recep-
tacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt
about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtapo-
sition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward
in a posture of leave-taking and forthwith effected his
egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He
then propelled himself in a short vector onto his con-
veyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his
contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of bur-
den, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto
observable chiefly among seed-bearing portions or a common
weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible
immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of
visibility: "Ecstatic yuletide to the planetary consti-
tuency, and to the selfsame assemblage, my sincerest wishes
for a salubriously beneficial and gratifying pleasurable
period between sunset and dawn.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
THE 1981 NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS [MAD magazine]
'Twas the night before Christmas, and one thing was clear-
That old yuletide spirit no longer was here;
Inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;
The fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling;
I opened a beer as I watched the TV,
Where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;
The kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;
Or else they were stoned, which was almost as good.
While ma with her ball-point pen was making a fuss
'Bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;
"Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;
"Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"
When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
'Twas our burglar alarm, and I hollered,"Who's there?"
I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
And, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight.
Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
Was caught in our eight-foot electrified fence;
He called out, "I'm Santa! I bring you no malice!"
Said I, "If you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"
But, lo, as his presence grew clearer to me,
I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
I called off our doberman clawing at his sleigh
And, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's okay."
I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,
And he poured out the following tale of despair;
"On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,
But now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."
"You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,
And without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
Although I would like to continue to use them,
The wild life officials believe I abuse them."
"To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by
And told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections,
And bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."
"Last April my workers came forth with demands,
And I soon had a general strike on my hands;
I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves,
So the missus and I did the work by ourselves."
"And then, later on, came additional trouble-
An avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;
My Allstate insurance was worthless, because
They had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause"
"And after that came an I.R.S audit;
The government claimed I was out to defraud it;
They finally nailed me for 65 grand,
Which I paid through the sale of my house and my land."
"And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare
Flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
Not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,
Taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."
"My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,
I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.
And if you should ask why I'm glowing tonight,
It's from flying too close to a nuclear site."
He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,
And I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;
"I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat,
But I fear that today I've become obsolete."
He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh,
And these last words he spoke as he went on his way;
"No longer can I do the job that's required;
If anyone asks, just say,'Santa's retired!'"
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
'Twas the Night before Crisis'
'Twas the night before crisis, and all through the house,
Not a program was working not even a browse.
The programmers were wrung out too mindless to care,
Knowing chances of cutover hadn't a prayer.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my tube to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Super Programmer, oblivious to fear.
More rapid than eagles, his programs they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name;
On Update! On Add! On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closing! On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over, his fingers were lean,
From Weekends and nights in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code, then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger on the 'Enter' key,
The system came up and worked perfectly.
The updates, updated, the deletes, they deleted,
The inquiries, inquired, and the closing completed.
He tested each whistle, and tested each bell
With nary an abend and all had gone well.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded.
The client's last changes were even included.
And the client exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
'It's just what I asked for, but it's not what I want'
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat.
The kids were all gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner, and momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Had a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of the sled,
A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
"Woa Shithead, woa Asshole, woa Stupid, woa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts."
"Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee."
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jockeys, to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
"That was some brothel," he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, so I'll just stay awhile."
He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his weenie and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a squirtgun like a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
And six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several more things I shouldn't even mention.
A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.
"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leave 'em here, and then I'll just split."
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home, Rudolf. This night's been a bitch!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about pussy is you can't wear it out!!"
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End of Yucks Digest
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