A dog thinks: Hey, these people I live with feed me, love me, provide me with a nice warm, dry house, pet me, and take good care of me… They must be Gods!
A cat thinks: Hey, these people I live with feed me, love me, provide me with a nice warm, dry house, pet me, and take good care of me… I must be a God!
As you are aware, ships have long been characterized as being female (e.g., “Steady as she goes”, or “She’s listing to starboard, Captain!”).
Recently, a group of computer scientists (all males) announced that computers should also be referred to as being female. Their reasons for drawing this conclusion follow:
Five reasons to believe computers are female:
1. No one but the Creator understands their internal logic.
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else.
3. The message “Bad command or file name” is about as informative as, “If you don’t know why I’m mad at you, then I’m certainly not going to tell you”.
4. Even your smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory for later retrieval.
5. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.
However, another group of computer scientists (all female) think that computers should be referred to as if they were male. Their reasons follow:
Five reasons to believe computers are male:
1. They have a lot of data, but are still clueless.
2. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they are the problem.
3. As soon as you commit to one you realize that, if you had waited a little longer, you could have obtained a better model.
4. In order to get their attention, you have to turn them on.
5. Big power surges knock them out for the rest of the night.
Ode to “Titanic” (to the tune of the “Gilligan’s Island” theme)
—————————————————————
Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful flick.
That started from this Hampton port
Aboard the Titanic.
My mate promised lots of sailing lore,
But Cupid shot his bow.
Her heart set sail with Jack that day
For a three hour show, a three hour show.
The hero started petting Rose.
They kissed, their hair was tossed.
If not for the timing of an iceberg crash,
My dinner would be lost, my dinner would be lost.
The ship struck ground on the floor of this
Uncharted northern sea,
With Guggenheim,
The skipper, too,
A millionaire,
Straus’s wife.
Beneath the stars,
Looking for a place on the grand staircase,
Where they will again smile!
(:’-) Tony and Jenny Laundrie
Seeing Eye Dogs
There’s a guy with a Doberman Pinscher and a guy with a Chihuahua. The guy with the Doberman Pinscher says to the guy with a Chihuahua, “Let’s go over to that restaurant and get something to eat.”
The guy with the Chihuahua says, “We can’t go in there. We’ve got dogs with us.”
The guy with the Doberman Pinscher says, “Just follow my lead.” They walk over to the restaurant, the guy with the Doberman Pinscher puts on a pair of dark glasses, and he starts to walk in.
A guy at the door says, “Sorry, mac, no pets allowed.”
The guy with the Doberman Pinscher says, “You don’t understand. This is my seeing-eye dog.”
The guy at the door says, “A Doberman Pinscher?”
He says, “Yes, they’re using them now, they’re very good.”
The guy at the door says, “Come on in.”
The guy with the Chihuahua figures, “What the heck,” so he puts on a pair of dark glasses and starts to walk in. The guy at the door says, “Sorry, pal, no pets allowed.”
The guy with the Chihuahua says, “You don’t understand. This is my seeing-eye dog.”
The guy at the door says, “A Chihuahua?”
The guy with the Chihuahua says, “You mean they gave me a Chihuahua?”
The bartender was washing his glasses, when an elderly Irishman came in. With great difficulty, the Irishman hoisted his bad leg over the barstool, pulled himself up painfully, and asked for a sip of Irish whiskey. The Irishman looked down the bar and said, “Is that Jesus down there?” The bartender nodded, so the Irishman told him to give Jesus an Irish whiskey, too.
The next patron to come in was an ailing Italian with a hunched back, who moved very slow. He shuffled up to the barstool and asked for a glass of Chianti. He also looked down the bar and asked if that was Jesus sitting at the end of the bar. The bartender nodded, so the Italian said to give Him a glass of Chianti, too.
The third patron to enter the bar was a redneck, who swaggered into the bar and hollered, “Barkeep, set me up a cold one! Hey, is that God’s Boy down there?” The barkeep nodded, so the redneck told him to give Jesus a cold one, too.
As Jesus got up to leave, he walked over to the Irishman and touched him and said, “For your kindness, you are healed!” The Irishman felt the strength come back to his leg, so he got up and danced a jig out the door.
Jesus touched the Italian and said, “For your kindness, you are healed!” The Italian felt his back straighten, so he raised his hands above his head and did a flip out the door.
Jesus walked toward the redneck, but the redneck jumped back and exclaimed, “Don’t touch me! I’m drawing disability!”
Scientists at NASA have developed a gun built specifically to launch dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of the windshields. British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains.
Arrangements were made. But when the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurtled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield, smashed it to smithereens, crashed through the control console, snapped the engineer’s backrest in two and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin. Horrified Britons sent NASA the disastrous results of the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield, and begged the U.S. scientists for suggestions.
NASA’s response was just one sentence, “Thaw the chicken.”
A lawyer, who was quite wealthy, had a summer cabin to which he retreated for several weeks of the year. Each summer, the lawyer would invite a different friend of his to spend a week or two up at this place, which happened to be in a backwoods section of Maine. On one particular occasion, he invited a Czechoslovakian friend to stay with him, and the friend, eager to get something free from a lawyer, agreed.
Early one morning the lawyer and his Czech friend went out to pick berries for their morning breakfast. As they went around the berry patch, along came two huge bears – a male and a female. The lawyer, seeing the two bears, immediately dashed for cover. His friend, though, wasn’t so lucky, and the male bear reached him and swallowed him whole.
The lawyer ran back to his Mercedes, tore into town as fast as he could, and got the local sheriff. The sheriff grabbed his rifle and dashed back to the berry patch with the lawyer. Sure enough, the two bears were still there.
“He’s in THAT one!” cried the lawyer, pointing to the male, while visions of lawsuits from his friend’s family danced in his head. He just had to save his friend.
The sheriff looked at the bears, and without batting an eye, leveled his gun, took careful aim and SHOT THE FEMALE.
“Why did you do that?” exclaimed the lawyer, “I said he was in the other!”
“Exactly,” replied the sheriff, “would YOU believe a lawyer who told you that the Czech was in the male?”
Phone Won’t Stop Ringing? Here’s What You Do
Leola Starling of Ribrock, Tenn., had a serious telephone problem. But unlike most people she did something about it.
The brand-new $10 million Ribrock Plaza Motel opened nearby and had acquired almost the same telephone number as Leola. From the moment the motel opened, Leola was besieged by calls not for her. Since she had the same phone number for years, she felt that she had a case to persuade the motel management to change its number. Naturally, the management refused claiming that it could not change its stationery.
The phone company was not helpful, either. A number was a number, and just because a customer was getting someone else’s calls 24 hours a day didn’t make it responsible. After her pleas fell on deaf ears, Leola decided to take matters into her own hands.
At 9 o’clock the phone rang. Someone from Memphis was calling the motel and asked for a room for the following Tuesday. Leola said, “No problem. How many nights?”
A few hours later Dallas checked in. A secretary wanted a suite with two bedrooms for a week. Emboldened, Leola said the Presidential Suite on the 10th floor was available for $600 a night. The secretary said that she would take it and asked if the hotel wanted a deposit. “No, that won’t be necessary,” Leola said. “We trust you.”
The next day was a busy one for Leola. In the morning, she booked an electric appliance manufacturers’ convention for Memorial Day weekend, a college prom and a reunion of the 82nd Airborne veterans from World War II.
She turned on her answering machine during lunchtime so that she could watch the O.J. Simpson trial, but her biggest challenge came in the afternoon when a mother called to book the ballroom for her daughter’s wedding in June.
Leola assured the woman that it would be no problem and asked if she would be providing the flowers or did she want the hotel to take care of it. The mother said that she would prefer the hotel to handle the floral arrangements. Then the question of valet parking came up. Once again Leola was helpful. “There’s no charge for valet parking, but we always recommend that the client tips the drivers.”
Within a few months, the Ribrock Plaza Motel was a disaster area. People kept showing up for weddings, bar mitzvahs, and Sweet Sixteen parties and were all told there were no such events.
Leola had her final revenge when she read in the local paper that the motel might go bankrupt. Her phone rang, and an executive from Marriott said, “We’re prepared to offer you $200,000 for the motel.”
Leola replied. “We’ll take it, but only if you change the telephone number.”
A blonde had a near death experience the other day when she went horseback riding.
Everything was going fine until the horse started galloping out of control. She tried with all her might to hang on, but was thrown off. With her foot caught in the stirrup, she fell head first to the ground. Her head continued to bounce on the ground as the horse did not stop or even slow down.
Just as she was giving up hope and losing consciousness, the Wal-Mart manager came out and unplugged it.
Date: Thu, 26 Mar 1998 15:32:27 -0500
