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Yucks Digest V2 #17
Yucks Digest Sun, 8 Mar 92 Volume 2 : Issue 17
Today's Topics:
(WARNING) United States - *NEW* TRAVEL ADVISORY :-)
cutie
DB: A SURE-FIRE ECONOMIC BALE-OUT
Difference Between Intel Processors
FYI - RFC 1300
GASSY ELEPHANT BLOWS HER TRAINER THRU A WALL
Jackson Quits African Trip
Prairie Dog Relocation - National Problem or Cash Bonanza?
Talk.bizarre of 1855
Valentine's Day (2 msgs)
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 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: 14 Feb 92 17:38:26 GMT
From: <lost in forwarding>
Subject: (WARNING) United States - *NEW* TRAVEL ADVISORY :-)
Newsgroups: rec.travel
OVERSTATE DEPARTMENT TRAVEL ADVISORY - United States of America
===============================================================
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - WARNING
February 14, 1992
Summary: The Department of Overstate advises aliens, including those
visiting from other planets, to exercise extreme caution when visiting
the U. S. and to defer all non-essential travel to the U. S. until
later in the next century. Despite elections every four years, the
country is experiencing a period of political stagnation accompanied by
severe social and economic difficulty. Crime is a continuing serious
problem. Gun control in the U.S. does not exist. Any alien who
travels to the U. S. must be alert to any suspicious activity and
exercise caution in their movements. End Summary.
Aliens and U.S. citizens are advised not to travel to New York,
Chicago, Los Angeles, Miami, Washington, Atlanta, or any other city in
the U.S.. Street and violent crime are common, although common crime
is less common in some cities. Last year there were over 900 murders
in Chicago alone, more than in all of Great Britain.
Japanese citizens are especially discouraged from visiting Detroit, due
to continuing hostilities generated by automotive manufacturers. The
automotive manufactures have not yet made the connection between
offering only left hand drive vehicles in a right hand drive country
such as Japan and their low Japanese sales figures. Japanese aliens
are advised to restrict their visits to Honolulu.
Travel by air in the U.S. may not be safe and frequent flyer points are
not always available.
Canadians visiting from the north are encouraged to restrict their
activities to brief cross border shopping forays and in any case are
urged not to travel more than twenty miles from the border, except when
the end of the lineup for Canadian customs is further south.
Mexican visitors should note that they could be shot, if they are not
already drowned, when pulled from the Rio Grande River. The U.S. is
allowed to invade Latin America, but not the other way around.
People with medical problems are advised that cost for medical
treatment in the U.S. is astronomical. All travellers should have
medical insurance. A pregnant individual should remain at home, since
he should note that the infant mortality rate in the U.S. is as high as
many third world countries. Travellers should be on the lookout for
lawyers and other suspicious individuals. Many aliens have been sued
for millions of dollars.
Aliens must not visit mid south eastern areas north of Florida because
of the sporadic presence of neo-fascist elements including
politicians. The presence of fundamentalism is also a continuing
concern and danger, especially for those aliens of other religions.
The Florida should be avoided because of the possibility of rape; there
have been trials recently but few convictions.
Aliens are strongly advised to register immediately with their home
embassies and to remember the 911 emergency phone number at all times.
No. 92-00Ha
This advisory replaces all other advisories regardless of state or date
and alerts travelers to continuing dangers, violent crime, and other
problems with visiting the U.S.A.. This advisory is subject to
modification as new information becomes available.
------------------------------
Date: 21 Feb 92 04:40:20 EST (Fri)
From: dscatl!lindsay@gatech.edu (Lindsay Cleveland)
Subject: cutie
To: spaf
[Your reaction to these may be an indicator of whether you are a
"synthesist" personality; cf. Yucks vol. 1 #112. --spaf]
Contributed by:: ihps3!harpo!floyd!cmcl2!rocky2!steward
My father used to tell these jokes regularly and stated that they were
indeed Viking jokes. Whether that is true or not is probably very hard
to prove. I have noticed, however, that I have gotten tremendously
different reactions to them. Here in New York City I get polite
chuckles, an awkward lull in conversation, and the subject changed.
When I told them to some Yanomamo Indians in Brazil, with appropriate
modifications, I got good deep laughs and an invitation to go out and
steal women. Well, anyway...
1. Three Vikings were captured in England during one of their
raids and were sentenced to be decapitated. Being philosophical
sorts, they questioned whether decapitation by an enemy was
qualification enough for getting into Valhalla. Well, they
argued for some time and came to no firm conclusion. They did
decide however to solve it empirically. The first to be executed
was given a pair of scissors and the instructions to jab the left
end of the scissors into the chopping block if he saw that he
was going to Valhalla when the knife fell and to jab the right
end into the block if he wasn't going to Valhalla. Satisfied
that this would answer the question, the first was led to the
block. He was allowed to keep one hand free to hold the scissors
but the rest of him was bound to a plank. He was lowered into
position, the sword was raised, and swung home to the block
through his neck with a muffled crack.
He dropped the scissors.
2. Eric was a regular thug in a small town in Scandinavia and was
constantly giving grief to his neighbors. One day, after some
of Eric's particularly nasty stunts, the townsmen joined together
to go to his house and kill him. Eric saw the angry mob approaching,
ran inside his house, and bolted the door. The townsmen looked
around the house searching for an opening to see if Eric was in.
Finding the place thoroughly locked, they hoisted one man to
the roof to look through the thatch. The man was stomping around
the roof peeking inside when a spear came flying through the thatch
and hit the man in the gut. He rolled off the roof and landed in
the dirt at the feet of the townsmen. "Is he at home?" inquired
the townsmen. "I don't know if he is," responded the dying man,
"But his spear is."
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 11 Feb 92 11:07:30 -0800
From: bostic@okeeffe.CS.Berkeley.EDU
Subject: DB: A SURE-FIRE ECONOMIC BALE-OUT
To: /dev/null@okeeffe.CS.Berkeley.EDU
A SURE-FIRE ECONOMIC BALE-OUT
-- by Dave Barry [02/09/92]
Today, as a leading presidential contender, I am pleased to present my
Economic Package.
I realize I'm late. The other 53 leading contenders turned in their
Economic Packages weeks ago. But I have an excuse: The dog ate my
Economic Package.
No, really, my excuse is that I've been busy trying to notify the
government that I'm running for president. I thought this would be a
simple procedure. I mean, look at the other contenders. These people
are not all nuclear physicists. Some of them aren't even vertebrate
life forms.
(We'll pause here while the Duke supporters look up "vertebrate.")
Anyway, I called the Federal Election Commission in Washington, and
told the person who answered the phone that I was running for
president. I figured she'd just make a note of this, then assign some
Secret Service agents to follow me around, beat up people who cut me
off in traffic, maybe do some work on my yard, etc.
Instead, she mailed me some forms, which demanded to know the name of
the committee that handles my campaign contributions and the bank where
these are deposited. I frankly had not thought that a committee was
necessary, since my contributions consist of about $30 in small bills
and coins from various nations including (this is true) Bolivia. These
funds are currently deposited in the box for the Nerf Ping Pong set I
maintain in my office in case of emergency.
So in an effort to satisfy the FEC forms, I tried to open a bank
account, but the bank - and you wonder why our banking system is in
trouble - refused to take the money. The bank person said I couldn't
have an account because I didn't have a Federal Identification Number.
(For the record, neither did Abraham Lincoln.) The irony here is that
I'm located in Miami, where banks have a tradition of accepting huge
cash deposits delivered in trucks that say "Acme Cocaine Dealership."
But God forbid they should take money from a declared presidential
candidate.
So I applied for a federal identification number, which you get from
the Internal Revenue Service by filling out form SS-4. Here's an
actual quotation from the instructions:
"6. With respect to which there are reasonable arrangements designed to
ensure that (a) residual interests are not held by disqualified
organizations (as defined in section 860E(e)(5), and (b) information
necessary for the applicaton of section 805E(e) will be made
available."
The instructions also say: "If you have ... suggestions for making this
form more simple, we would be happy to hear from you." My suggestion
is, "Shoot the extraterrestrial being who wrote these instructions in
the head, if it has one." Of course, I wouldn't tell the IRS that,
because I'd probably be selected for the Special Audit, which involves
fire ants.
My point is that there's a lot of tricky paperwork involved in running
for president, which is why I'm late with my Economic Package.
I've studied the other candidates' packages, and they're all designed
to appeal to middle-class Americans, technically defined as "Americans
who own VCRs but can't program them." Most of the packages involve
"tax breaks," which is when the government, amid great fanfare,
generously decides not to take quite so much of your income. In other
words, these candidates are trying to buy your votes with your own
money.
Well, as Abraham Lincoln once said: "If you're going to take a bribe,
hold out for top dollar." Which is why I'm proud to present:
MY ECONOMIC PACKAGE
1. Every middle-class American will receive $10,000 cash from the
government.
2. Make that $20,000.
3. Sometimes, without warning, US Air Force bombers will fly over
randomly chosen middle-class communities and drop bales of money.
4. I see no reason why the IRS has to know about any of this.
Also I would create jobs. As president, I'd gather up the top US auto
executives, and I'd depart for Japan as the head of a Special Trade
Mission. Midway across the Pacific, these executives would be given
parachutes and life rafts, and be shoved out of the plane, thereby
freeing up millions of dollars in salary money that the auto companies
could use to hire people to make better cars.
Then I'd continue on to Japan, where, in tough, high-level talks with
Japanese officials, I'd demand that they make VCRs that a normal human
could program. Then I'd attend a formal dinner where I'd suddenly fall
under the table and barf, but the members of my offical entourage would
just leave me there because they'd be used to it.
COMING SOON: The Federal Budget Deficit - Let's Let Our Children Worry
About It.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 19 Feb 92 4:30:6 EST
From: jantypas@soft21.s21.com (John Antypas)
Subject: Difference Between Intel Processors
Newsgroups: rec.humor.funny
As told to me by my friend Dave...
The Differences Between Intel Chips
By Dave Smith
For those who are confused by the various processor offering by Intel,
here's a quick guide to clear you up.
8086: A spacious closet. Has four walls and plenty of shelf space.
It's a lot better than keeping your stuff in stacked cardboard
boxes like you had to with the 8080
8088: A spacious clost like the 8086, but lacks the mirrored doors
and instead uses a narrower door made of standard plywood.
Not as pretty, but a less expensive.
80186: Still a closet with the mirrored doors, but now includes a
new railing to hang your clothes and this one is bolted on,
not that wooden thing that always falls when you bump it off.
Also the doors run on a better track. Not the greatest, but
the builder was a little slow.
80286: A closet as with the 8086, but includes a small trap door
on the ceiling that you can climb up with great effort to
reach a larger attic to store stuff in. The door is sufficiently
small that you can only shove small things in or out of it.
80386: A 1930s victorian house somewhat rundown, but acceptable.
Has a closet, but also has a large garage. You can be
in the garage or the closet, but you can't have a closet
or a workbench in the garage. An option in building allows
you to build out the house into several small closet size
apartments. Each occupant of an apartment is unaware they
have any neighbors. (Unless they give a note to you to post
on the board in front hall for other neighbors to see.)
80386SX: Another 1930s house, but this one doesn't have the double
doors in the entry.
80486: A small condo with closets.
80486SX: The same condo, but with strong owners association. You can buy
the condo for less money, but you can't get the keys unless you
buy them from owners association for a large fee.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 19 Feb 92 13:25
From: PRowley.novell@sjfsmtp.novell.com (Phil Rowley)
Subject: FYI - RFC 1300
To: spaf (spaf)
Network Working Group S. Greenfield
Request for Comments: 1300 Ziff-Davis
February 1992
Remembrances of Things Past
Status of this Memo
This memo provides information for the Internet community. It does
not specify an Internet standard. Distribution of this memo is
unlimited.
Discussion
When Shannon was a river
and Turing was a car
When Banyan was a tree
and buses travelled far
dBase was where you ran to
after you hit the ball
Often we were ANSI
RISC aversive not at all
Windows were for looking out of
in a Tandem, two could take a spin
Bridges were for crossing
a frame was to keep pictures in
A semi-conductor was a maestro
not in the big time yet
A port you sought in a storm
fishermen used a net
Woody Guthrie sang of "My LAN"
WAN was a despairing mood
LATAs were for high places
menus featured food
If a cursor used four letter words
a sensor cut them out
The sight of a mouse in an office
was sure to raise a shout
Haloid perfected photocopying
and thereby made a hoard
Then came Japanese competition
and its "ox" was gored
Frequency was measured in cycles
Hertz referred to multiple pain
Modem was a harvesting command
for bringing in the grain
Modelling was at fashion shows
bauds were ladies of the night
Prompting was helping actors
contesting for resources, a fight
Walking and chewing gum concurrently
requires considerable skill
We called it multi-tasking
and by gosh we always will
We had no electronic calculators
just slide rules by Keuffel & Esser
I am still a true believer
Keufel & Esser war besser
Chips were used for gambling
von Neuman was a pup
Monte Carlo a place to visit
squaring the circle ... well, we gave up
A Sprint was less than 880
a relay was a team
Greene was just a color
breaking up AT&T a dream
Coherent was applied to speech
not a spectral line excited
Multi-media meant prose and song
and Noel Coward was knighted
Cerf was found at the beach
a Rose was a Rose was a Rose
Jobs were to look for
and Gates were to close
"2B" was an elementary school class
and "D" a failing grade
A router was a tool
a server was a maid
Lotus was a flower
adobe was a brick
Postscript was an afterthought
joy a popsicle stick
We called a plotter a CAD
a token ring a sham
A buffer was for buffing
a male goat was a ram
The best noise supressor was ... ssh
we knew little of egos and ids
For archival storage and encryption
we looked to the pyramids
Now in accordance with Greenfield's Law
in voice both loud and clear
Here's to exponential growth in memory
& operating speed next year.
Security Considerations
Security issues are not discussed in this memo.
Author's Address
Stanley R. Greenfield
Ziff-Davis
One Park Avenue
New York, NY 10016
EMail: 0004689513@mcimail.com
------------------------------
Date: sometime in February
From: gdittmei@us.oracle.com
Subject: Gassy Elephant Blows Her Trainer Thru A Wall
Sassy, the 2-ton elephant, queen of the Spalding Brothers Tent Circus,
suffered a bout with gas that nearly killed her trainer, and blasted
several holes in the striped tent where she was practicing her
prancing.
Now dubbed Sassy the Gassy Pachyderm, the 14-year-old beast snorted
ap- proximately 15 gallons of red-hot Tex-Mex chili cooking outside
the tent for a Rotary fund raiser.
Sassy developed a taste for chili as a mere 500-pound babe when she
lived with a herd of cows near El Paso, TX. The rancher held regular
cook-outs, and let Sassy lick the Chili pot after the guests had gone.
"The hotter the better," recalls rancher Antonio Guayabera. "She'd
poke her little fuzzy trunk in there and slurp 'til it was clean as a
whistle.
"I'd notice the next day, though, the cows would stick to one end of
the field and Sassy would be all by herself at the other.
"I always thought someone was burning garbage, but I finally realized
it was Sassy and cut off her bean supply. It was making the cows'
milk sour."
Antonio, who got the baby elephant as a gag gift from an oilman friend
of his, sold Sassy to the circus and trainer Fritz Hildebrand made her
queen of the center ring.
"I discovered the first month I had Sassy that she loved chili, but it
didn't love her," says Fritz. "We had to keep the roustabouts with
their open cook- stoves away, because she would smell those beans
simmering and start hooting and hollering to get it.
"We only let her have her way once," Fritz says, shaking his head.
"We had to walk her a mile away and leave her penned there a whole
day."
Human memories dim, but elephants never forget, and with chili pots
bubbling it was just a matter of time before Sassy slipped her trunk
through a hole in the tent and started gobbling.
"I knew I had to get her out of there - and fast," says Fritz from his
hospital bed. "But I wasn't fast enough. As I led her away, the gas
attack started. I should have known better than to stand too close,
but the first blast blew me right through the tent and into a trailer
parked outside."
Fritz suffered 15 broken bones, including one arm, one leg, his
collarbone, several ribs and fingers. Subsequent blasts ripped
through the big top before Sassy was banished to a distant field.
"I know she feels bad," concludes the forgiving trainer. "Sassy's a
chili- holic, and she just can't help herself."
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 20 Feb 92 12:05:34 PST
From: one of our correspondents
Subject: Jackson Quits African Trip
To: yucks-request
LONDON (AP)
Rock star Michael Jackson abandoned a private tour of Africa that
was rapidly becoming a public relations nightmare and flew to London
on Wednesday.
Jackson had angered his hosts in Ivory Coast by constantly holding
his nose; a special statement was issued to assure fans he did not
think Africa smelled. A Jackson aide, Bob Jones, described it as the
nervous twitch of a shy person.
The 33-year-old entertainer flew into Stansted airport, north of
London, with 26 members of his entourage aboard a private jet
Wednesday. Customs and immigration officials went to the plane so he
could avoid fans and journalists. Jackson began his trip to Africa on
Feb. 11 in Gabon; went on to Ivory Coast, and continued on to
Tanzania on Monday. He dropped a planned safari in Tanzania and
skipped Kenya altogether.
Edward Ngewe, manager of the Kilimanjaro Hotel where Jackson and
his entourage stayed in Tanzania, said he was told Jackson decided
not to fly to north Tanzania because it meant going by small plane
and "he doesn't like to board small planes."
In Ivory Coast, irate newspaper editorials accused the star of
insulting the West African nation by frequently touching his nose,
suggesting he did not like the country's smell.
On Thursday, police with truncheons and whips attacked thousands
of teen-age fans outside Jackson's hotel. Authorities said
anti-government protesters had infiltrated the crowd. Paramilitary
troops wearing riot helmets accompanied Jackson everywhere he went.
On Saturday, Jackson was crowned honorary "King of the Sanwis" on
a golden throne in an Ivory Coast village.
He flew Monday to the East African nation of Tanzania, where
Foreign Minister Ahmed Hassan Diria greeted him and he was given
flowers.
But a widely distributed news report had witnesses describing
Jackson as running from the plane clutching his nose and jumping into
a waiting car while hiding his face behind a small handbag. It said
Diria had to run after him to introduce himself.
Kenneth Scott, the U.S. Embassy's deputy chief of mission, called
the report "absolutely incorrect. People have been having a field day
with Jackson.'
Some suggested that Jackson was scared his nose would fall off after
several operations.
There was speculation here that Kenyan officials were happy that Jackson
cancelled his visit after his bizarre behaviour elsewhere on the continent,
where he cloistered himself in hotel suites and avoided waiting fans.
"Michael's actions have been a bit strange in the eyes of Kenyans," said a
Kenyan involved in planning his stay here. "But he comes from a different
culture and we have to bear with that."
[What culture does he come from, exactly? --spaf]
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 18 Feb 92 19:05:27 CST
From: meo@netmail.austin.ibm.com (Miles E O'Neal (Contractor))
Subject: Prairie Dog Relocation - National Problem or Cash Bonanza?
To: spaf (Gene Spafford)
| The vacuum system offers an alternative to mass killings of
|prairie dogs that have long angered animal-rights activists.
| ``We're all for it if it's used for altruistic purposes, such as
|relocation,'' said Robin Duxbury, national director of the
|Denver-based Animal Rights Mobilization. ``But if it's used by
|exterminators, then we would not approve it.''
Perhaps we need federal funding for relocation - especially
when moving them off Indian reservations, or onto federal lands.
In fact, it seems that by simply moving them between federal
preserves as they become a pest at each site, we could employ
quite a few of the nation's "employability impaired".
If we run out of places to relocate the dogs, I suggest
relocation to the homes of the "long angered animal-rights
activists". Forced relocation may be necessary, but there
is strong legal precedent for it (ask the Indians (see above)
or the Japanese (see below)).
| Balfour said the prairie dogs captured by his vacuum may have to
|be killed if there's no place to relocate them. He said he is
|trying to avoid that by developing a market to send them to Japan
|to be used as pets.
Selling these to the Japanese solves several problems. (1) How
do we pay for all these jobs of moving prairie dogs between
federal lands? (2) It would excite a lot of people who want Bush
to kick the collective Japanese teeth - these things make tribbles
look like a birth control ad, but are far less problematic than,
say, giant, radioactive, mutant dinosaurs bent on destroying
downtown Tokyo.
Of course, this means we have to sell as many as we can as fast
as we can - inside of three months the market would likely
disappear. Perhaps Balfour meant 'pests' instead of 'pets'.
Finally, to aid in the New World Order by helping topple
Hussein, Roadkills-R-Us is prepared to rewrite a section of
its corporate charter preventing RRU from leaving live
animals where it can collect dead ones - we will sell DOD-
spec prairie dogs to the military or intelligence agency
of choice, for the low, low price of $37,000 per Prairie
Dog, Tunneling, Land (Destruction Thereof) per unit. Delivery
is extra, depending upon destination (ie, shipment to the
USA Government Agency Responsible, or drop shipment to Iraq).
For each Prairie Dog the government purchases, RRU will
spend at least half the profits employing Prairie Dog
Relocation Technicians from the currently unemployed
population of the USA.
Miles O'Neal
President, Roadkills-R-Us
------------------------------
Date: 18 Feb 92 20:41:44 GMT
From: larne@image.symbol.com (Larne Pekowsky)
Subject: Talk.bizarre of 1855
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
I've been reading "The Difference Engine," I'm sure the geekier members
of the audience are familiar with it. For those that aren't, it takes off
from the premise that Babbage successfully completed his mechanical, steam-
driven computer, thus bringing in the information age a lot earlier than
actually happened.
What the authors forgot to consider was that you could have hooked these
things up to the telegraph system and volia, instant internet, although
running at something like 50 baud. Where the net exists talk.bizarre is
inevitable, so one is left considering what talk.bizarre in 1855 would
have been like:
- The X-industries catalogue would be a lot smaller, since genetics hadn't
been developed yet, plus you can only get so much energy out of a cyclotron
running on steam.
- There would be no women posters, except maybe Ada and I doubt she'd post
to talk.bizarre. This would eliminate about 10% of the population and
about 65% of the quality articles.
- RICHH's stories would be a lot duller, consisting of things like "How
Karen drank several glasses of sherry and revealed both her ankles."
- The 'Good name for a heavy metal band' thread could never have happened,
which is almost certainly a good thing.
- Early card punches had no lowercase or punctuation, and of course full
screen editing was undreamed of. Therefore, we would all talk like BIFF.
- .sig length would be measured in terms of pounds of cards.
- Due to the heavy thudding noises constantly made by the gears, *plonk*s
would actually sound like that.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 19 Feb 92 13:38:19 PST
From: Mike O'Brien <obrien@aero.org>
Subject: Valentine's Day
To: eniac@mejac.palo-alto.ca.us
Someone sez:
]It's much worse when a horse steps on your foot, you develop a big black
]mark under your big toenail, and then you get to watch it for months
]while it grows out further and further until...
]
]... you get to clip that part off and there's nothing much gross about
]it.
It's much weirder when you've been fast-talked into taking a course in
handling exotic animals, and now they've gotten to the part of the course
where it's time to learn how to saddle a camel, and here you are holding
the bridle when the camel decides it's tired of being over here, it's
time to be over there. So it goes over there. Now, horses have these
short thick necks and camels have these long skinny necks, but you can
pull a horse's head down toward the ground and it will stop every time.
You can pull a camel's head as hard as you like till you're just
hanging on the bridle like a Christmas tree ornament (and a really
ugly one too) and the camel will not move its head down an inch
but will just keep striding along on those improbable legs with
the ball-and-socket knee joints. Except I didn't because the camel
stepped on my foot. Now, this is not what you'd expect. A camel's
foot, due to the fact that it's designed to walk on sand and all like that,
is like a throw pillow with a Buick tied to the top. I was wearing
heavy work boots and I didn't even know what had happened; I just
couldn't move my foot. But my upper body was hanging onto the
bridle and it was moving, oh yes. Just like a really fine slapstick
film I tilted sideways further and further and further, and about
the time the camel finally picked up that foot, it didn't pick
up that foot after all, because the stride of a camel is about
850 miles or so. I was practically horizontal and my arms were
in Topeka before my feet were able to leave San Bernardino.
I never did get that particular camel saddled, that particular time.
That's about when it started to rain.
[And you thought *you* had strange experiences! --spaf]
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 26 Feb 92 21:54:15 PST
From: Mike O'Brien <obrien@aero.org>
Subject: Valentine's Day
To: eniac@mejac.palo-alto.ca.us
>>It's much weirder when you've been fast-talked into taking a course in
>>handling exotic animals, and now they've gotten to the part of the course
>>where it's time to learn how to saddle a camel ...
>
>Might we have a little background on that, please? I, for one, am both
>fascinated and surprised to discover that there even *is* such a
>course. Were ostrich rides included as part of the fun?
Ostriches. Don't get me started on ostriches.
The only thing you have to know about an ostrich is that they can only
kick forwards. Most of the time, ostriches are not facing you. They
are facing the other way, and getting smaller. Rapidly. Very rapidly.
You catch ostriches in a pen the same way you catch ostriches in the wild,
which is the same way my uncle used to catch rabbits: by a form of
triangulation. Find two other like-minded people who have not yet
actually been committed, and surround the ostrich. Each time it turns
to get away, one person runs in front of it, and the other two move up
from behind. In theory, one person will eventually get close enough to
grab it.
Now, you can't actually grab these godforsaken featherdusters by the
most convenient handle, which is to say, by the neck. If you do, you'll
instantly kill a very valuable property. They can't take that. No,
you have to grab them around the brisket and drape one arm over the back
to grab the front of the wing on the opposite side. Then you get to hang
on, because while no one older than six can actually RIDE an ostrich,
any full-grown man can be DRAGGED by one, no problem. This man's job is
simple: to slow the ostrich down enough that one of the other two people
can catch up and add his weight to the pile. TWO people CAN stop an
ostrich.
Actually GETTING to this stage has to be seen to be believed. This is
the ONLY time in my life when I have actually jumped at something so fast
and so hard that, missing, I turned a complete forward somersault on the
ground and came up running. Trouble is, I had also lost my glasses, right
where the ostrich chose to do this panicky little two-step, which also
had to be seen to be believed. I collected on my one piece of luck that
day: all two hundred pounds of ostrich missed my glasses. I jammed them
on my face and kept running. And running.
When we eventually got to Stage Two, the ostrich reached a stage of its own.
It sat down. Now, while two people can stop an ostrich, not even all three
can carry one, and this one had its landing gear locked in the "up"
position. The claim was that just lifting up on the ostrich would make it
stand up. No. In fact, to my amazement and by dint of extreme physical
output we lifted that sucker clear of the ground, and that stupid little
chicken-head with the great big eyeballs just kept its legs tucked firmly
up underneath and looked at us, eye to eye. We set it back down.
About five minutes later it stood up on its own. We did too; we didn't have
a lot of choice. After that we were sort of able to walk it around to
where we wanted it.
I went home and scraped off the ostrich dust. I still have a couple of
plumes on my wall. They're looking a little sad now, but not nearly as sad
as I looked that day. The Dance of the Hours in "Fantasia" has never
looked the same to me, after that.
---
There was no real point to all this. The setting was a small company in
Colton called "Gentle Jungle", which made most of its money supplying
exotic animals and trainers to the movie industry. The black tiger in
"Beastmaster" was one of theirs. We had a housemate at that time who
was animal-crazy, and wanted to make a career out of it, so she and my
wife fast-talked me into joining them in taking an extended course in
exotic animal handling. We learned how to clean cages, saddle elephants,
clean cages, saddle camels, clean cages, feed lions, take tigers for walks
("very carefully," is how you do it), and clean cages.
For graduation we had a picnic which was attended by the students, the
trainers, a baby baboon, and a tiger kitten so new its eyes were still
milky. The latter two spent much of the afternoon in a tangle, rolling
over and over. There's a book called "The Last Word" which supposedly
lists "the last word" in everything. The last word in "cute" is a baby
koala turning somersaults. I claim that a baby baboon wrestling with a
tiny tiger cub is at least a close second. Baby tiger cubs are about the
size of a housecat but a LOT stockier, and they spit and hiss a lot,
and are completely uncoordinated. They are also irresistable.
And yes, kiddies, tigers really are as big and poofy and soft as they
look, and they purr like a freight train going by. You don't want to know
what it takes to find this out.
Mike
[It must have been a result of this that he met Mr. Protocol. --spaf]
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End of Yucks Digest
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