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Welcome to...
Psi-Laine Magazine,Issue#1
2/4/88
--------------------------
Introduction
A few theoretical "facts" taken as truth for these files. A god(any god,to
ignore religion,)was bored. He created a sport,an endless legion of players,
a TV network to broadcast it and a world for it to take place. The
planet is Earth #2. The network is Rand TV. The game is Psi-Laine!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The arena is set up,the announcer is in his booth. I'm Johnny Gee,for the
first ever match of Psi-Laine. Here now is announcer Ed Markewicz.
ED:Thank you,Johnny. All right,our contestants tonight are Snake Jake,a large
burly fellow with two live snakes around his neck,and Captain Chainsaw,a lank
character with a non-working chainsaw. This is wrestling with a TWIST!
Ok,let's go to the arena. It is a 10 x 10 grid with nets around the rim.
In the center are walking out SJ and CC. They shake hands,and...SJ does a
jump! They both have reasonably high strength,nothing spectacular but
certainly sustaining. Ah! CC is down,and SJ is sitting on him! What a start!
Cap is on his stomach. He is still reasonably ok. Now,SJ...ah! He tries to
summon Psi-Laine,the psychic power inherent in all inhabitants! The only
problem is,as he tries to get it to work,he is in a trance for the time
of two moves. And it may fail! An aura of yellow has sprung up around
the concentrating SJ. The first period of concentration...fails! Oh,boy,
Cap wrestles to his feet. Cap punches Jake in the stomach,but it's caught
and voided! Jake jumps back at Cap's stomach. He succeeds! I think Jake
may be the better man here,but time will tell. Cap is looking weak. Jake
scrambles out of his jump,just in time to attempt Psi-Laine again! The
first interval...succeeds! The aura changes from yellow to green! And
hand-to-hand combat is the only type that will work during a trance.
Captain Chainsaw has tried a bizarre punch to the chin! No,it just
doesn't work for Cap. Jake attempts to take his mental power to the
next stage,and...succeeds! His aura changes to blue! Captain Chainsaw
tried to puch his chin and fell over his own feet,but he now gets up to
attempt a punch to the arm. It succeeds,and the immobile Jake is weakened.
Now even Cap falls silent along with the awed audience as the 3rd interval
of Psi-Laine is started,and...SUCCEEDS! He gets back his free will,and he's
smiling when he glows with a mystical power! A bolt from Jake's hands
seeks out Cap's left hand and arm! It's gone! He has just crippled his
opponent permanently! Cap is nearly out of his mind,and out of his
consciousness. Madly,Cap...wow! Maybe Cap is just deranged,but he has
just begun the Psi-Laine sequence! His first attempt...fails! Poor Cap!
Jake now tries to add the use of accessories/weapons. His snakes hone in
on their target. Oh,Cap is in a daze,almost out of it. Jake tries to press
the advantage,with his specialty...the jump! But it fails,I guess Jake
can foul up too. Cap begins to run. Maybe he's just running scared,or
maybe he's trying to gather momentum from off the sides of the arena!
If he was in square #46,he runs to the north,bounces off the north rim,
and back one. Now he is at#15. Everyone is wondering what Jake will
do about this. I feel he could just hold Cap by the head and let him tire
himself out,but he does nothing! Cap runs again,another five frames to
the south. This is senseless of Cap! Jake now runs one square himself,
to make himself diagonal from Cap. This may well be the final position!
Cap,having an option,grabs Jake's right arm and throws him around,underhanded!
This man is as insane as he seems,and seems to have a wild,unleashed strength!
Ol' Jake really took a spill there,and is now feeling fairly weak. Still
better than Cap,though. Cap continues,picking up Jake's left hand and
spinning him in a circle! He's dizzy Cap must be getting cocky,because
he tries for Psi-Laine again! Interval#1...succeeds! His aura is green,but
it doesn't matter to Jake,who tries a jump! He throws his own legs into
the air,coming down against Cap's legs,which buckle. Cap falls to
the ground! This may be it,folks! Interval#2...succeeds! Jake is worried,
so he tries something fancy. He grabs Cap's left leg,drops to the ground
with it(forcing Cap down),and rolls into a ball! Cap doesn't(of course),so
his Psi-Laine is disrupted. In fact...I think he's unconscious! Yes,all
Jake need do now is one legal hit to make it official! But wait! The
Psi-Laine wasn't voided! Interval#3...what will it do...it...it...it...
FAILS! That really sapped Cap's strength. Jake tosses his snakes down
at Cap,and he has lost. The judges are declaring this match OVER!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Coming Next:Military Man vs. Flower Power
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note:Character Profiles are always welcome! Just put them up and they
will most likely be ingested into the Understanding Machine.
---
Psi-Laine Magazine is a DreckFiction Production
Copyright (c) 1988 DreckFiction
Welcome to...
Psi-Laine Magazine,Issue#2
2/19/88
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ed:Hello! Johnny Gee has gone to visit his parents in Europe,so I'll be taking
it right from here. Tonight,we were planning,in the second Psi-Laine match
ever,to have a fight between Flower Power and Militart(Military) Man. But,for
some unforseen reason,Military Man had to back out at the last minute. So to
fill in,he called on his old pal...Earl Weaver,manager of the Baltimore Orioles!
Since 1968! Now in the ring,one i...on one side is Flower Power carrying a
giant flower made of diamond,with a gold stem! Wouldn't wanna get bonm(no)
bonked by that!! This should be a walk,the ex-hippie against...hahahaha...
that fat old slob! The two contestants shake hands in the center of the ring,
and begin fighting! Earl gets in the first shot! He picks up Flower's right
arm,and does an "old-fashioned" body slam! Ouch! I don't know if Earl has
any miltia(military) experience but he almost certainly watches pro wrestling
on TV! They are both still reasonably strong,but only Flowsy(Flowsy?) is
hurt by the body slam! And Earl and...Earl ain't about to quit! (Sorry,my
mental problem is acting up!) He,in his feeble state,jumps over Flower Power
and snags a leg! They both fall to the ground but Earl gets up and starts to
run! He runs from square#67,3 to the east,and bounces back 3. With more
power behind him,he grabs Flower Power's left leg really actyihksdf(sorry,
my brain failure again.) Flower Power is really acting useless,so maybe I
was wrong about the old fart!! He causes FP to fall...hard! Tho,things don't
look to good for(to! Haha.) FP,becaz...because every one of Earl's hits
in a row has worked. And now Earl runs again. 3 to south,and one bv...back.
Sorry,my brain is bothering me too much I'll try to get you a replacement me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi. I'm Timmy Kurrik,fresh out of college and announcer's school. I've been
given an on-the-job opportunity to qwork(work) in place of brain-damaged Ed.
Earl has been running,reall weirldy. Is he senile? Now Flower Power tries
for Psi-Laine,about the only thing he can do when not in the immediate
vicinity of his opponent. 1st attempt...succeeds. Wow! Now Earl goes into
Pasilane. Pasilane? Psi-laine! Simulated,but simultaneous! Wow,this is
weird,folks! Earl's first interval...fails! What a waste! What about Flower's
2nd interval? It fails! Too ad! bad! Yeah! Earl,as is his right,elects to
take a weapon onto the arena,a metal baseball bat. Earl clearly isn't
gettinmg anywhere so he walks not south,but north...3/ less than 3 in some
states. He walks north 34 ...34? No,#57! Meaning he walks 3! Yeah! FP's
turn and he tries Psi-Laine again! Interval#1...suycceeds! (Sorry for all
these typos,our typeseetter was drunk. He took the audio log of Ed's
brain-damaged state and did it word-for word,and now in his drunken stat
(state) he is fouling everyling up. Get the iudea?) Earl seems to be
using his baseball bat! It...doesn't contact at all. Real dumb,Earl.
FP,deep in psi-laine trance,fails! Earl decides to run to the east 6
(tyo1! You dummy!) It puts him right back where he just was,but with
more momentum. Hee,hee! He swings his bat again,and fails again/! Maybe
this is why Earl got out of baseball and into Psi-Laine! Fp swings his
own jewelled flower which is about the size of a shovel,by the way,but it
doesn't make contact! These guys both have lousy aim!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lightning strikes! The bored God makes I rule change:
I bequeath the ende of runnyng! That option in combaet shaell bae raeplaced
by a new God-given form of Magick!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They are both struck with awe,but Earl now tries Psi-Laine again! Attempt#1...
Fails! FP takes his flower,postions iit like a blasted pool cuer,(cue) and
smashes Earl in the y! The eyes I mean,in A Y-SHAPED hit,reminiscent of the
3 stooges. Is this the 1st successful hit on Earl? Earl recovers and tries
the power for himself...the power of Psi-Laine! Attempt#1...succeeds! Flower
attacks the immobile Earlm,(Earl) and...oh...it 's apparent that this is Gold's
(God's) new form of magixc(magic!) It is SDW! No! I don't know! Typesetter,cut
that out! This is SWITCH! Now Flower is in the middle of Psi-Laine,clutching
a baseball bat,and Earl is stanbding there holding a jewelled flower! Flower
does Attempt#2...and it succeeds! Maybe Earl's psi-laine wit will backfire
on him! Earl...attempts to switch again! Of course,anyone would! But...for
------------------------------some strange reason,it fails. OH! I see why!
|God again: I order that the |And since that failed,it is now FP's 3rd attenmpt
|switch power be usxed but |at Psi-Laine...the biggie...and it...SUCCEEDS!!!
|a mere one time per match!! |A bolt manifests itself in FP's hands,and he
------------------------------ fiores///...fires it at Earl without a thought!
He fires at Earl's left leg! It's gone! That kind of thing more or less ends
the match! Earl's can't walk,he can barely balance! He's just lying on tje
the ground with his flower! P! Pathes! Pathos! Pathetic! Isn't it? Well,now
Flower Power,looking mad,gets a runnig start,and smashes Earl in the cheat!
(You know I meant chest!) Earl is really badly off! Now why would FP try
Psi-Laine again? Attempt#1...succeeds! Attempt#2...fails! Earl just can't
do anything! He might actually be able to walk,but not without practice on
a fighting court,with other wounds,and this being a few minutes after he
lost the limb! Flower Power tries agaibn to stick Earl in the eyes with
the bat,but Earl rolls pout! Out,,,...of the way. Stick to it,guy! Break
a leg! Earl can't do anything,and FP does something really cruel! He picks
up Earl's othe ...r leg and throws him! Earl is almost unconscious!
FP now gedts Earl with a punch to the neck! Boy,that guyy! I think...yet!
Ear;l do be unconscious...herm! He out like dat lite! One more hit and
FP will win! He jumps on EW! A bug in thwe ! A spider in the typing room!
aAnyway,he jumps o nth a A! He jumps onto Earl's face! The poor guy!
Flower power wins!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------_--------
As you have porably,probably noticed,we have multiple technical difficultiesd!
Barring these,Psi-Laine Magazine with Ed Markewicz,Johnny Gee and Tim Kurrik
will return ith! With new matches,new contestants,and these features coming:
New characters,new modes of attack,interviews,"The Den"(a visit with the
atmospheres of some of our more flamboya tnt charaxcters) and lost lots and
lots of Psi-Laine matches!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Character suggweestions always welcome! Just be just be sure to
Copy:CHARACTERS on this volume,adnd they will most likely be ingested into
the understanding machine.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---
Psi-Laine Magazine is a DreckFiction production.
Copyright (c) 1988 DCreckFiction
Copyright (c) 1988 DreckFiction


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A collection of quotes from Professor Ralph Noble, a professor of psychology
here at RPI. Specifically, these were taken from his Psychology of Motivation
class, Fall semester 1991.
---
"As undergraduates, you realize that cleaning is very cost-ineffective, and why
would you bother?"
"If you're salt-deficient, you'll go lick the sweat off your significant
other...there are other physiological drives that will cause the same behavior."
"They've got drive-by shootings in Philadelphia now. Where they park to
reload, I don't know."
On Siamese Fighting Fish: "They're beautiful, they're elegant, they're vicious
as hell...there's a real life lesson here somewhere."
"If I could go through the dorms and shoot people, exam pressures would be put
into perspective."
"As you approach 4.0, study time approaches infinity."
On Oprah Winfrey's income: "$83 million? Oprah and I do basically the same
thing. Stand in front of people and abuse them."
On 'the totally suffering individual' (i.e. no food, no oxygen, no water, no
self-esteem, no safety, no friends, no money, sick and in pain, etc.) "You
can't do this with people, which takes all the fun out of life."
"20 scared-out-of-their-gourds 3 or 4-year olds is an example of what I'd like
to do to some of you who are really getting on my nerves."
"In the spirit of today, when I'm handing out the exams, we're going to further
examine the totally suffering individual."
"No beer? I think that comes under 'sick and in pain.'"
"We're going to talk about sex--you're going to talk about sex, because I can't
remember."
"The only sense I can make out of having kids is it's a good way to become a
grandparent."
"Men stare at those parts of the female anatomy which carry the subcutaneous
fat necessary for childbearing and lactation. This is not news."
"Look at this [dollar bill], for those of you who haven't seen [one] before."
"If money stopped buying things, I'd lose interest in it."
On fear-reduction techniques and how they can be used to make a bad
relationship last: "If I could use these techniques as well as I can explain
them, do you think I'd be here? And if I was here, I'd look a lot more tired
and happy."
"They don't let us beat students anymore, but my fantasy life is my own
business."
"Supposedly, it is possible to score goals [in field hockey]. However, this
rarely happens because hitting people is so positively reinforcing."
"Usually shooting a professor in the head ticks them off, but sometimes they'll
say 'Thank you.'"
"At 100,000 feet up, you're talking serious, _serious_ long underwear and
oxygen."
"I've been in the academic world a long time...I can sleep with my eyes open,
which is an important skill for those of you considering jobs in middle and
upper management."
"I learned to put the [toilet] seat down...it makes you look like a warm,
caring, sensitive human being."
"You bring someone home, say 'Hi, Mom, this is so-and-so,' she immediately
knows everything except which side of the bed he sleeps on."
"She's human...well, she's a lawyer, but reasonably human."
"We're going to assume a few things about reality. One, it exists. That's not
a necessary assumption, but I find it comforting."
"There are a lot of reasons to skydive. It does take your mind off your
problems."
"There was some brilliant work done with rats, which makes it scientific."
"There are two universes: for males, and for females."
"In the US, males are a minority and should be treated and protected as such."
"Most divorces are just a four-year-long date with a little bookkeeping."
"Happily ever after...there are some people who have achieved that, for the
moment."
"Is another way to put this 'All men are crazy?'"
"I may be more of a romantic than some of you, so feel free to throw up if you
have to."
"Let's assume the semester's over, so dying is a bad thing."
"A college professor is someone smart enough to get a Ph.D., but too crazy to
make a living."
"There's a large amount of evidence saying that the man's point of view is
largely irrelevant."
"Sean Connery is the sexiest man alive? Was I on the list?"
"You watch a talk show recently? They're doing one next month on a normal,
happy heterosexual couple, assuming they can find one."

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:-)Managing Interpersonal Relationships
Here is a memory refresher for those who have taken the "Managing
Interpersonal Relationships" (MIR) course. If you haven't taken
the course yet, you can read these notes and won't have to! Any
similarity between characters or events in this posting and characters
(living or dead) or events in real life is purely (or puerilely)
coincidental.
Michael Schoonover (303) 229-3552
michael@hpfcla.hp.com Hewlett-Packard Co.
notes from
"MANGLING IMPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS"
Copious research has conclusively shown that there are exactly
two dimensions to human personality: self-control and evangelism.
THE SELF-CONTROL SCALE
The self-control scale denotes the degree to which a person maintains
control of his or her emotions. Humans are evenly distributed along
this scale with Spock at one end (although he is really half Vulcan) and
Sally Field at the other (see Figure 1).
Figure 1. Self-Control Scale
Self-Control
+---------------------------------------+
| |
Spock Sally Field
| |
Shows absolutely no Operates purely on
emotion whatsoever, unless emotion. Cries when
under the influence of mind- reading "The Family Circus"
altering drugs, such as pod or when nominated for an
spray. Oscar.
THE EVANGELISM SCALE
The evangelism scale denotes the degree to which a person forces his
or her opinions and beliefs on others. Like the self-control scale,
humans are evenly distributed on this scale, with Supreme Court
nominees on one end and Jimmy Swaggert at the other (see Figure 2).
Figure 2. Evangelism Scale
Evangelism
+---------------------------------------+
| |
Supreme Court Justice David Souter Swaggert
(before being nominated)
| |
Opinions could not Offers opinions freely
even be extricated and without provocation,
through Senate judicial often frothing at the
hearings. mouth and sweating
profusely.
WHERE ARE YOU ON THE SCALES?
Where each person falls on the self-control and evangelism scales is
genetically predetermined and can be calculated from a questionnaire of
20 or so questions that you give to five of your friends/coworkers.
This questionnaire was scientifically engineered and is backed up by
copious research, so regardless of who answers this questionnaire
(convenience store clerks, your mother, your worst enemies), your
location on the scales is always the same. Oh, there have been some
exceptions, but they were due to people getting confused when filling in
the dots on the questionnaire.
THE PERSONALITY QUADRANTS
Copious research has shown that there are four quadrants in which we
can stereotype human personalities (see Figure 3). This graph is
derived from the two personality scales, with Evangelism as the X axis
and Self-Control as the Y axis.
Figure 3. The Personality Quadrants
low E v a n g e l i s m high
(0) +--------------------------+--------------------------+(20)
| | |
| | |
| Anal-Retentives | Megalomaniacs |
| | |
| | |
S | | |
e | | |
l | | |
f | | |
- | | |
C +--------------------------+--------------------------+
o | | |
n | | |
t | Spineless Wimps | Psychotics |
r | | |
o | | |
l | | |
| | |
| | |
| | |
| | |
+--------------------------+--------------------------+
high
(20)
Once your location on the scales is determined, we can plot your
personality on a graph and pigeon-hole you for life! For example, if
your questionnaire shows 1 on the Self-Control scale and 1 on the
Evangelism scale, you would be classified as an Anal-Retentive, and
are probably enjoying these numbers immensely. If you scored 19 on
Self-Control and 19 on Evangelism, you are a Psychotic and are
probably throwing a tantrum at this moment. Of course, there is no
value judgement placed on any location in the quadrant: It's OK to be
a Spineless Wimp; it's OK to by Psychotic; it's OK to be where-ever
you are (although YOUR location is rather abnormal).
By definition, the personality type of a particular quadrant hates the
personality type in the opposite quadrant. So, ARs hate Psychotics and
vice versa; likewise for SWs and Megalomaniacs. Understanding the hatred
between these groups is the first step to building good teamwork!
The Anal-Retentive Quadrant (The Author's Quadrant!)
Characteristics: Good with numbers, likes to work with machines
more than humans, not fun at parties (unless everyone
else is AR also), lots of them are engineers.
Nicknames: Einstein, Good Engineer, Boring, The Computer
Favorite Phrase: I need more data.
Handles Conflict by: Playing video games.
Famous ARs: Carl Sagan, Ayn Rand
The Spineless Wimps Quadrant
Characteristics: Always friendly, always agreeable, make you feel good
until you turn your back on them, soft handshake, good
at organizing parties.
Nicknames: Ol' Reliable, Mr(s). Happy, Two-Faced Rat
Favorite Phrase: I agree.
Handles Conflict by: Giving in and then not inviting you to the next party.
Famous SWs: George Bush, Dan Quayle
The Megalomaniacs Quadrant
Characteristics: Cold, decisive, power-hungry, has delusions of
grandeur, lets you know where you stand (usually within
earshot of a crowd), dictatorial.
Nicknames: Idi Amin, The Dictator, The Robot, The Rotten Bastard
Favorite Phrase: You're wrong!
Handles Conflict by: Killing those who disagree.
Famous Ms: Saddam Hussain, Alexander Haig
The Psychotics Quadrant
Characteristics: Bubbly, bubbly, so-bubbly-you-want-to-strangle-them,
obnoxious, insecure, humorous, fun at parties
(especially when throwing a temper tantrum).
Nicknames: Barrel-O-Fun, The Clown, The Psycho
Favorite Phrase: I have a vision.
Handles Conflict by: Threatening to kill self and everyone else.
Famous Ps: Sam Kinnison, Sally Field
THE FLEXIBILITY SCALE
In addition to the four quadrants, there is another dimension to
personality (even though I said there were only two before). This other
dimension is flexibility, also known as schizophrenia. This scale
denotes how well can a person fake another personality type (see Figure 4).
Figure 4. The Flexibility Scale
+--------------+--------------+-----------------+----------------+
| | | | |
Catatonic Paranoid Split Personality Triphrenia Quadrophenia
| | | | |
Does not even Most people Manages to fake Three The ultimate
have a are here. an additional personalities! in flexibil-
personality. personality. ity. Can
fake all four
personality
types.
Although we can never change our basic location in the personality
quadrants, we can strive for and achieve greater flexibility! For
example, you may be merely paranoid now, but with a little work in this
course, you could become a split personality or even quadrophenic! The
key to flexibility is understanding the other personality types so that
you can quickly and easily pigeon-hole those around you and understand
what makes them tick. Once you know how to do this, you will find that
it is much easier to manipulate those around you!
SUMMARY
You now know everything you need to better mangle impersonal
relationships. Good luck! And remember: It's much easier to work
with people once you've stereotyped them.


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From werner Thu Oct 27 14:06:34 1988
Flags: 000000000001
From: jailbird@ihlpm.UUCP (Ronald D Harvey +1 312 979 0586)
Subject: My Story of Puking at My Prom After Eating Pizza Drunk!
Keywords: gross, original, chuckle
Date: 28 Nov 88 03:30:03 GMT
{ed Be warned, this is not a pretty story.}
There was a discussion about proms in soc.singles. I posted this
'cause mine sure was a night to remember!
Let me explain:
To be frankly honest, I was less than a hunk knockout in my senior
year at Lincoln-Way High School. In fact, I was a certified, UL-approved
lemon. I had long greasy hair, braces, orthodontic rubber
bands that would tend to pop out of my mouth at all the wrong
moments, those tear-shaped tinted glasses that you occasionally see
folks wearing at work (do they still make those?), and I dressed
funny--I was convinced that platforms and blue jean vests were
here to stay, so I had about forty pairs of the suckers. No, I
couldn't be considered anyones' dreamboat, that's for sure. But
that wasn't going to stop *me* from attending my Senior Prom!!
You see, I was determined. I *wanted* to go to prom. "Ron, these
are the best years of your life," Mom kept saying. "For once in
your life, don't screw up!" "If these are the best years... No, I
don't even want to think about it!" I thought. I wasn't gonna miss
this one, oh boy oh boy.
Yes, and not only was I gonna go, I was determined to take the most
desirable girl in school: Zelda Klaghorn. Well, the most
desirable to *me* anyway. I have to admit, Zelda resisted at first
(OH my Zelda, Zelda! Where are you now?) but she eventually caved
in 'cause I kept pelting her with orthodontic rubber bands every
time I said "please." After the 40th "please!" she said she's go
if I threw in an extra ten bucks. I was, as they say, on Cloud 9.
Then came the big day. I was ready. I had on a glorious white tux
and was just deciding whether to wear the shoes Fred's Super-Sharp
Tux Rental had provided me (Fred had fitted me himself, spending an
unusually long time to measure my inseam) or if I should wear the
4-inch platforms I had just bought the week before when the
doorbell rings. I ran down the stairs (no easy feat wearing one
4-inch platform shoe) to find my good buddy Marco at the door.
Marco was a good guy, but he was never quite the same after he ate
that bottle of dog tranquilizers on the 4-H field trip the year
before. I think he thought the Prom was some sort of Republican
Party rally. (This was, after all, 1979!)
"Let's raid your parents' liquor cabinet!" Marco says. Marco was
going to let me use his '75 green Ford Torino, since my parents had
taken their car. (It was my parents' Bowling Night that night, and
they apologized for missing my big evening, but it was quarter-finals
for their league and they just had to set their priorities,
didn't they? They showed me how to use the automatic timer on the
camera, so I guess it was all right.)
"No Marco, I'm not going to let anything interfere with my big
night with Zelda!" I said. "And the last time you drank you threw
up Hormel Chili with Beans all over my parents' Chase lounger!
Besides, Zelda's gonna be here any minute!"
"Ah, chicken!" Marco was a master at peer pressure, so I couldn't
resist having at least a couple of shots of Jack to prove to him that
I was anything *but* chicken. After about ten shots, I realized
that *I'd* eaten Hormel Chili with Beans for lunch and was
beginning to feel woozy. I looked at my watch.
"Christ! She'll be over any second!" I pushed Marco out the
garage door so he could ride home on my bike. I hobbled up the
stairs to my room (I still had that damn 4-inch platform on) and
decided that Fred's low-heeled shoes would do just fine. But then,
I was feeling too happy to care.
Well, to make an already long story slightly longer, Zelda and I had
a great big tuna, anchovy, and garlic pizza (whoever posted that they
can't make good pizza in Chicago must've ate at a Denny's or
something) at Del Dominico's. Zelda turned out to be a wild date,
cleverly hiding a bottle of tequila in her nosegay (everybody,
including me wanted to take a swig--I mean, sniff--of that thing
all night!) Well, the Hormel Chili with Beans kept mixing with the
tuna and hot peppers (did I forget to mention those?) until all of
a sudden, right next to the hors d'oeuvres (I had to look that one
up!), I ralphed it all up right next to the Ritz crackers.
Luckily, everyone was dancing to the band playing "The Night
Chicago Died," a tremendous hit at the time, and Zelda was busy
powdering her nose, so my little bout with bodily functions went
unnoticed. Lucky me!
Well, you know the saying: "Everything tastes great when it sits on
a Ritz!" That's what happened, and I'm proud to say that Ron's
Hot-pepper Tuna Spread with Beans was and continues to be quite a
culinary sensation in my home town.
What happened to Zelda? We lost touch after graduation. But guess
what? Next year is our Ten Year Reunion! I'm digging out the
platforms and making a stop at Fred's. No more braces, oily hair,
or orthodontic rubber bands, though. I hope the magic is still
there!
---
Ron D. Harvey ..!att!ihlpm!jailbird
--
Edited by Brad Templeton. MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible. I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: Only ONE joke per submission. Extra jokes may be rejected.


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----------------------------------------------------
It seems that there were these 3 pregnant Indian Squaws, all due to give
birth at about the same time. The first squaw gave birth to a boy, and the
birthing was done on a deer hide. The 2nd also gave birth to a boy, but this
was done on a bear hide. And, the third had twins, two boys, and
she did this on a hippopotamus hide.
I guess *THIS* shows us that the sons of the squaw on the hippopotamus hide
is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other two hides.
A while back, there were two kingdoms situated close by each other.
One kindgom had a powerful king, and the other had a relatively weak
king. The difference (or so everybody said) was that the powerful
king had a magic throne, which had the property of making people
powerful.
Well, the weak king wanted this throne, so he had a trusted
count get up an army (you know, knights, pages, reporters, that kind
of thing) to fetch it.
The army trudged along for a day or two (only the reporters
would know for sure) and came upon the powerful king's castle.
The castle entrance was guarded by a huge yellow monster
with huge yellow hands. The army (being an army and all) attacked!
The huge Yellow Monster ate them all, except for two pages
who did not engage in the fight. The pages, being very frightened,
hid until nightfall.
When night came along, the pages peeked from their hiding
place and saw that the monster was asleep. The only thing guarding
the entrance now was the monsters huge hands draped in front of the
opening. The pages, being only 8 years old and all, were able to
squeeze through the yellow fingers and gain entrance into the
castle.
Moral: let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.
----------------------------------------------------
Once inside the castle, the pages had no trouble finding the
throne. Combined, they were just strong enough to lift it, and were
able to carry it out of the castle. (The monster gave them no
further trouble, since they had the throne and everything.)
After having walked half the night with the heavy throne
between them, they were very tired and stopped at a grass house
to rest. The farmer who lived there, wanting to steal the throne for himself,
let them spend the night in the barn. The throne was "hid" in the
farmer's attic.
Some hours later, the farmer stole into his barn and killed
the pages.
The farmer went back to bed. A few minutes later, the
throne crashed through the ceiling, crushing and killing the farmer
and his wife.
Moral: people who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
----------------------------------------------------
When the powerful king found his throne missing the next
day, he ordered HIS army to kidnap the other king's count and force
him to tell where the throne was being hid. The session went as
follows:
king: Where is the throne?
count: I cannot tell you.
king: Then I will have you killed! Executioner, cut off his
head!
count: (as the axe is swinging down...)
Ok! I will tell you!
THWACK!!!
Moral: don't hatchet your counts before they chicken.
----------------------------------------------------
Our Hero was travelling through the mountains on his quest for the Holy
Grail, when a fierce storm blew up and his steed caught some horsey sickness.
He hied to a monastary, and asked the abbot for a replacement, citing
their loyalty to God. It was the winter season, and nightfall was
approaching as they looked through the stables. All of the other horses
were sneezing a coughing also, until they came to a stable, where a large
shaggy dog story(oops) resided. The knight asked for him, to which the
abbot replied, "Oh, no, it is still stormy and getting dark.
I wouldn't send a knight out on a dog like this."
----------------------------------------------------
An international chess tournament is being held in a swank
hotel in New York. Everyone who is anyone in the world of
chess is there. After a grueling 4 hours of chess, the
players and their entourages retire to the lobby of the hotel for
a little refreshment.
In the lobby, the players get into a big argument about who
is the brightest, the fastest, and the best chess player.
The argument gets loud, each player claiming that he is
the greatest chess player of all time.
One security guard in the lobby turns to the other and says:
If there's one thing I can't stand, it's
chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.
(forgive me . . .)
----------------------------------------------------
There was a new driver for the bus on Sesame Street. His first
day on the job, he awoke bright and early, went to the garage, got
the bus, and set off on his route.
At the first stop there was a chubby little girl waiting for
the bus. She climbed the step and got on, and said,
"Hi. My name is Patty."
The driver replied,
"Hi, Patty. Please take a seat."
At the second stop there was a second little girl, even chubbier
than the first. She got on and said,
"Good morning! My name's Patty."
The driver answered,
"Good morning. Please sit down."
At the third stop there was a little boy waiting. He was dressed
in a white shirt and tie, and a suit with a vest, and he had a
calculator holster on his belt. He said,
"Hi. My name is Ross, and I'm special!"
The driver wasn't impressed, but he managed a smile and said,
"Please sit down, Ross."
The fourth stop rewarded the driver with a grubby little boy
with dirty jeans and torn sneakers. He got on the bus and said,
"My name is Lester Cheese."
The driver replied,
"Please take a seat, Lester."
Well, he's driving along and he looks in his rear-view mirror
and sees that Lester Cheese has taken off his sneakers and is
scratching at his foot. The driver pulls the bus over to the
side of the rode, stops it, and says,
"I can't take this any longer! I've got
two obese Patties,
special Ross,
Lester Cheese picking bunions
on a Sesame Street bus!
----------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------
there was a russian man named rudolph, a high ranking member of the KGB.
one evening rudolph and his wife, helga, were walking along, and it
begins to snow. "my, my, look at the lovely snow," said helga.
"no, that is not snow, that is rain!" replied rudolph.
"no, no, no, this is snow," she said.
"look, there is a palace guard, we will ask him."
rudolph went to the palace gaurd and said "is it raining or snowing?"
the gaurd was no dummy, so he said "what do YOU think it is doing, rudolph?"
rudolph replied, "raining."
and the gaurd said "yes comrade, I was going to say raining, also!"
so rudolph and helga went walking off. the gaurd could just barely hear
the KGB official say:
"RUDOLPH, THE RED, KNOWS RAIN, DEAR"
----------------------------------------------------
Two guys were stranded on a desert island.
The only way they could get food was to kill
sea birds by throwing rocks at them.
By the time they were rescued,
... They had left no tern unstoned.
----------------------------------------------------
Once there was a King who was loved by all of his subjects, especially
because of the hunting excursions he shared with them. As will happen,
one day he died and his eldest son took the throne. Now this new king
was an animal-lover to the core, and immediately outlawed all forms of
hunting and fishing. His subjects accepted this for only a short time
before they ousted him. This is a truly significant event, because it's
the first time a reign was called on account of the game.
----------------------------------------------------
It seems there were three monks who enjoyed raising plants
and were trying to keep a flower shop running, selling unique
and exotic plant life.
One day, some children where playing behind the shop and
were eaten whole by an extremely rare man-eating plant.
The parents, needless to say, were outraged, and demanded that
the friars get rid of the dangerous plant. The friars refused.
So the parents and the people of the town tried several ways to get
the friars to consent, but finally they asked Hugh, the town blacksmith,
(undoubtably the strongest man around), to run the friars out of town.
Your waiting for the moral... Can you guess?
"Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars!"
----------------------------------------------------
During the invasion of Sicily in World War II, General
George ("Blood 'n' Guts") Patton was preparing to take the
city of Palermo. He checked with his meteorologists and learned
the day he had chosen would be incredibly rainy. So he issued
an order to place copies of the New York "Times" immediately
beneath the tailgates of the transports carrying his troops.
In this way the men could keep their feet dry.
His staff was mystified. Why the "Times"? Why not the New
York "Daily News"? Patton was adamant; and one did not argue
with the General. As five tons of old copies of the "Times"
were being loaded, the General issued one of his greatest
quotes to the assembled war correspondents:
"THESE ARE THE 'TIMES' THAT DRY MEN'S SOLES."
----------------------------------------------------
Once there was a mad scientist who worked by himself in his laboratory.
He was so lonely that one day, he decided to clone himself. Everything
worked perfectly, except that the clone had a very foul mouth. The
scientist worked with the clone, but ,alas, he could not make the
clone clean up his language. He got so tired of the clone's language
that one day he pushed him off the end of a cliff. A policeman rushed
up to him, and yelled
"You are under arrest! You are under arrest!"
"What for ?",the mad scientist asked.
And the answer was:
For making an obscene clone fall.
----------------------------------------------------
<EFBFBD>

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From hall%vice.ico.tek.com@relay.cs.net Fri Aug 17 09:17:19 1990
From: hall%vice.ico.tek.com@relay.cs.net
Subject: Pure Mathematics
Keywords: science, smirk
[Acquired many years ago from the Math Department at Brigham Young
University. They credited it to the _Princeton Tiger_]
POOR PURE PERCY P
Percy P was a mathematician
whose "pureness" was never denied.
But he found one day, to his sorrow,
that his theorems had been applied!
He had used all the standard precautions;
his papers were pointedly dry!
But his own esoteric notation
had been solved by a physicist spy!
The colloquium buzzed with the gossip;
he could offer no valid excuse.
Percy P was a traitor of traitors,
for his work was of PRACTICAL USE!
Nobody dared to defend him.
Could it be that he'd plead the crime
That his work was just then needed
to effect quantization of time?
Ignored when he joined conversations;
one would think that he poisoned the air.
And he felt on his way to the office -
a new man might be in his chair.
A committee was in operation,
working twenty four hours a day,
Deleting his name from the journals,
and throwing his reprints away.
He knew where his future was leading,
no sense in prolonging the pain;
He left with a handful of papers,
and never was heard from again.
So take heed all you mathematicians
who pretend your endeavor is pure;
Tho' your luck may hold for a decade,
in the end you can never be sure.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton. MAIL your jokes (jokes ONLY) to funny@looking.ON.CA
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible. A Daemon will auto-reply.
Jokes ABOUT major current events should be sent to topical@looking.on.ca
Anything that is not a joke submission goes to funny-request@looking.on.ca


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Dear WiZ,
I have wanted to tell you for some time Just how much I enJoy your column. next
to handcuffing the old ladies wrists to her ankles and then {++++++}, its the
most fun I get all month.
I have been going through a lot of trouble trying to get lift charge [very
coarse black powder], as black powder is considered class "A", it is next to
impossible to obtain locally. I had tried the CIA method, and ball milling, but
they are both more trouble then worth.
My results using perchlorate/charcoal have been less then good, damnedest run
of flower pots you ever saw. is there any thing else that I can use for lift?
L.fascinus
Ah, your timing is impeccable for Just the other day I had put some time into
divining a replacement for bp for use as lift charge. my investigations lead me
on a search for substances that can be easily nitrated and are at the same time
readily available.
A chance conversation with a relative brought forth the information that she
had, "had it" with the cat, and therefore trucked it over to the local animal
shelter. discreet inQuiries uncovered the information that while dogs were kept
for 48 hours, cats were not kept at all. "when you go out the front door, they
go out the back."
With an unlimited supply of material to work with, [if they give you any static
about taking the bodies, Just tell them "well i guess finding a cure for cancer
will Just take a little longer", works every time.] a few Quick experiments
were tried. first freeze drying: left one of the furry suckers in the frost
free fridge for 6 months, at the end of that time it was found to be completely
mummified, it was then a simple a matter of putting it into a sack and the
breaking it up with a hammer.the resulting pieces were "nitrated" using nitric
acid produced by the CIA method.
After processing, it was found to be to slow burning for use as lift charge.
{worked ok in fountains ,etc thou.} a determination was made that the bone
minerals were slowing down the burn rate. as removing the bones before freeze
drying would be rather messy, another procedure was sort.
After not a little bit of work, the following method was found to produce lift
charge of great utility. [pussy lift - purr lift].
First skin the animal out, the procedure used by the sioux indians for skinning
sQuirrels, works real nice. place the skinned carcass in a plastic bucket and
cover it with a strong nitric acid solution, then let it sit two weeks or so in
the shade, to react.
Take the removed skin and hang it out to dry. after drying cut it up into
little pieces and in turn place them into an enameled pot. with a solution of
nitric and sulphuric acids (battery acid will do nicely for the sulphuric). put
it on the fire and let the mixture simmer, out of doors for six hours or so.
the nitration of the hair from the animal will produce picric acid, which when
added to the nitrated carcass will help overcome the calcium and etc in the
bones. combine the two mixtures and then boil (in the enameled pot) until a
thick gruel is obtained. pour the mixture out on to a flat surface and let it
dry slowly in the sun. after drying carefully break up the large pieces by hand
or with a rubber mallet, sieve it and put in a safe place until your next
shoot.
While the supply of gone pussies is rather large, there seems to be a
substantial variation in the number of cats disposed of day by day with peak
production occurring on april 1st.
Good shooting and thanks for writing the WiZ.
Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open


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Article 596 of sci.physics:
Path: puukko!santra!tut!enea!mcvax!uunet!husc6!uwvax!oddjob!ncar!gatech!mcnc!decvax!decwrl!pyramid!ctnews!andrew!TS0014%OHSTVMA.BITNET@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU
From: TS0014%OHSTVMA.BITNET@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU
Newsgroups: sci.physics
Subject: Re: Mathematical Puzzle]
Message-ID: <903@sri-arpa.ARPA>
Date: 21 Mar 88 18:28:19 GMT
Lines: 21
From: Joe Damico <TS0014%OHSTVMA.BITNET@CUNYVM.CUNY.EDU>
Assuming the integers must be "different", it follows that:
sum 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
---------------------------------------------------------------------
possible 1,2 1,3 1,4 1,5 1,6 1,7 1,8
pairs 2,3 2,4 2,5 2,6 2,7
3,4 3,5 3,6
4,5
If S doesn't know, then sum>4. If S knows P doesn't know, then sum>6.
(IF sum=5 then numbers could be 1 and 4, and so P could know the numbers)
(IF sum=6 then numbers could be 1 and 5, again, P could know the numbers)
SO the numbers could be 1 and 6.
P knows the product is 6, but doesn't know whether the factors are (2,3)
or (1,6)
By saying "I know that P doesn't know", S informs P that the sum is not 5.
P says "Now, I know"
But, by similar argument, the numbers could be 1 and 8.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think the problem has a unique solution
->Joe Damico
Article 599 of sci.physics:
Path: puukko!santra!tut!enea!mcvax!uunet!husc6!mailrus!nrl-cmf!ames!ucsd!nosc!cod!stewart
From: stewart@cod.NOSC.MIL (Stephen E. Stewart)
Newsgroups: sci.physics
Subject: Re: Mathematical Puzzle]
Message-ID: <1039@cod.NOSC.MIL>
Date: 22 Mar 88 23:53:07 GMT
References: <898@sri-arpa.ARPA> <5818@watdragon.waterloo.edu>
Reply-To: stewart@cod.nosc.mil.UUCP (Stephen E. Stewart)
Organization: Naval Ocean Systems Center, San Diego
Lines: 41
In article <5818@watdragon.waterloo.edu> bpdickson@trillium.waterloo.edu (Brian P. Dickson) writes:
>In article <898@sri-arpa.ARPA> Richard Pavelle <RP%OZ.AI.MIT.EDU@XX.LCS.MIT.EDU>
>writes:
>>
>> P: I don't know what the numbers are.
>> S: I knew you didn't. Neither do I.
>> P: Oh! Now I know.
>> S: Oh! So do I.
>>
>>What are the two integers?
>
>1 and 4
>
>1=>product not prime or 1
>2a=>sum odd
>2b=>sum > 3
>3=>product is product of 2 primes since only two ways of getting product
>4=>sum < 7 since only 2 ways of getting sum
>
I submit that there are exactly 5 possible solutions. The inferences
which Brian made from 3 and 4 above are not completely rigorous. More
than two ways of getting the product are allowed as long as all but one
are eliminated by the requirement that the sum be odd. Any product of
two or more primes will be odd unless one (or more) of them is 2.
Thus, unless a 2 is involved, the sum of 1 plus the product and the sum
of any two numbers derived by taking subproducts will always be even
and 2a would not be satisfied. So, at least one of the prime factors
must be a 2. In this case, the sum of 1 plus the product will be odd.
But, unless all of the prime factors are twos, at least one pair of
numbers derived by taking subproducts of the prime factors will also
give an odd sum and P could not determine the numbers from 2a. Only
when all of the prime factors of the product are twos will all possible
pairs of numbers resulting in the product have an even sum except one,
namely 1 and the product itself. Thus, 2a gives P the answer. From
the knowledge that P then knows the two numbers, S will be able to
deduce from the foregoing arguments that the only possibilities are:
1&4, 1&8, 1&16, 1&32, and 1&64. Knowing the sum, he can determine
which one it is and announce that he knows also.
Steve Stewart


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From: danny@westford.ccur.com
Newsgroups: rec.humor.funny
Subject: Lateral Thinking Puzzles Revisited
Date: 19 Aug 90 23:30:04 GMT
In article <5522@uwm.edu> bnk@csd4.csd.uwm.edu (Bob N Keenan) writes:
>
> Scene: There is a dead man in a garage surrounded by >51<
> bicycles and an over turned table. What happend?
> [Answer: The bicycles were playing cards and a fight ensued after
> cheating was discovered. ]
>
> [ Solicitation for other Puzzlers ]
Other classics:
Scene: A man is found dead in a locked room in a puddle of water.
Answer: The poor guy died of starvation; the room was locked, right?
The water? Oh, the roof leaked.
Scene: A man gets out of bed, and kills himself.
Answer: The man was a midget for the circus, and had just gotten fed
up with his bleak and demeaning lifestyle.
Scene: There is a dead man in a cage surrounded by 51 cats, an
overturned table, and an empty gun. What happened?
Answer: A depressed midget switched blanks for the live ammo in
the lion tamer's gun.
Scene: A man goes into a restaurant and orders some albatross. After
some delay, the food arrives. He takes a taste, and then
kills himself. Why?
Answer: Obviously a whacko. I mean, who orders ALBATROSS in a
restaurant?! I say "good riddance to bad garbage!"
--


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===============================================================================
Once again, Q wants to join Starfleet. An application is sent to the Fed.,
while Q remains abord the Ent. to learn the ropes. Of course, he 'gets in
the way' of several of our favorite crew members.
Q's application to Starfleet is finally accepted, and a fanciful ceremony is
planned where Q is given an official Starfleet uniform.
Title: Q-niform
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unknown to the crew, Q scans the Ent. records and discovers several encounters
with tribbles. Believing it would be fun to watch Picard hand the fur balls,
Q conjures up several thousand tribbles all over the ship.
Being that there were no enemy ships nearby, Geordi can't seem to fin a way to
get rid of them. Soon the crew begins arguing among themeselves on how to
solve the problem. Picard and q get into a discussion about who should clean
them up. The discussion turns into a heated argument.
Title: Q-ibble
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In trouble agian with the other Q members, our favorite Q is sentenced to a
trial. The Q pick Picard as a judge, believing his previous run-ins with Q
will sway him to judge the case in their favor.
We see Q being subjected to question after question, some of which he can't
answer. Finally, the Q press Picard for a ruling
Picard determines that Q has had enough testing and that Q is what he is.
Title: Q-iz
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q loses his powers, and has to go on welfare in the Federation . . .
Title: In the Q
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q challenges Picard to a game of golf to save humanity . . .
Title: Q Tee
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q decides to become a novelist . . .
Title: Q-Werty
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q meets a snake-like entity that is an even match for him . . .
Title: Q-Bert
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q is involved in a dimensional accident and must search for his posterior . . .
Title: As*-Q
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worf is changed into a doll by Q, but manages to get his revenge . . .
Title: Q-Pee
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q begins to notice the Ent. women on a holodeck
Title: Q & A
=========================================================================
Q brings a rabid dog on board the Enterprise.
Title: Q-jo
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q returns to the Enterprise and, as a joke, creates 1000 duplicates of himself.
Title: Q Thousand and one
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A famous Federation scientist, Doctor Roll, is on board the Enterprise testing
his new invention for capturing visual images of stellar objects. It appears
that the mission will have to be scrubbed because Doctor Roll lacks a sufficient
light source to make a proper image. Q shows up and provides the needed light.
Title: Q lights Roll camera
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Picard asks Q for help in destroying a giant bird that threatens the
Enterprise.
Title: Q Kill a Mockingbird
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Enterprise crew meet an alien race with whom they are unable to communicate
until Q arrives and teaches them a language of wedge-shaped marks made in clay
tablets
Title: Q-neiform
=========================================================================
A famous, though elderly comedian/golf player comes to the
Enterprise to entertain the "troops". Q shows up and through his
pranks, reveals that the entertainer is a primitive android who
actually has no memory and reads all he sees.
Title : Q-cards.
____________________________________________________________________
Q pays the Enterprise a visit and really bugs everyone. Little
does Cpt. Picard realize that Q is running from an even more annoying
alien life form from a Fantastic Four comic book. When they show up
looking for Q, everything goes BONKERS !!
Title : Q's company, but Kree's a crowd.
_____________________________________________________________________
Q pops up in the form of a female just to see what it is like.
Unfortunately for Q, Worf falls in love with him.
Title : Q-T pie.
=========================================================================
I: Q sends the Enterprise to a bubble dimension where the only way to
escape is to arrange the sides of a small block to be the same color.
EPISODE NAME: Rubik's Q-be
II: Q enters the Enterprise computer and fills all memory locations to
their fullest capacity and then some.
EPISODE NAME: Q Overflow
III: Q forces the crew into a Saturday Night Live sketch with Steve Martin
etc. still cast members.
EPISODE NAME: Well, Ex-Q-ze Me!
IV: Q drops the Enterprize into a bubble dimension and will only let them
out if they present a piece of paper "good for re-entrance into the 'real'
universe.
EPISODE NAME: May I See Your Q-Pons Please?
=========================================================================
Q-pundits, Put a Q-tip in it!! ( :) )
=========================================================================
10-Q! (bad Q-pun)
=========================================================================
Q captures the crew and transports them to a planet where they battle against
a giant bieng shaped like a Lemonade Pitcher in
Qool-Aid
Q plays an april fools joke on the crew by messing with the text fonts on the
Enterprise Computers in
To Q or Not to Q
Q Freezes Enterprise crewmen again in
Ice Qbe
Q teaches Wesley Quantum Physics Calculus XXI iat the Academy in
2 5 Qbed
(PeX 3Pi(1+Y))
===============================================================================
Q decides to become an X-rated rap star.
EPISODE NAME: 2 Live Q
Q sends the Enterprise into an alternate dimension where a variety of animated
animals invade trying to find a lost field mouse.
EPISODE NAME: The Res-Q-ers
If Q was in charge of the Kentucky Derby, would he change the location to
Q-isville Downs? (Or as us natives would say, Q-vull? :)
If Q were to become a movie director and remake 2001:A Space Oddysey, would he
be called the next Stanley Q-brick?
=========================================================================
Next week: Q arrives and tries to annoy the crew as usual. When the crew,
following Picard's orders, ignores Q, he becomes violent and abusive and
obscene.
Title: Fuh Q
=========================================================================

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From arensb@cvl.umd.edu Thu Jun 8 05:30:04 1989
Flags: 000000000001
Path: molokai!milano!cs.utexas.edu!inebriae!looking!funny-request
From: arensb@cvl.umd.edu (Andrew Arensburger)
Newsgroups: rec.humor.funny
Subject: Quantum physics
Keywords: original, funny
Message-ID: <3489@looking.on.ca>
Date: 8 Jun 89 10:30:04 GMT
Sender: funny@looking.on.ca
Lines: 64
Approved: funny@looking.on.ca
Reply-Path: cvl.umd.edu!arensb
(This just materialized on my desk one day. It's in my handwriting, so I
must have written it, though I'll deny it if I'm indicted. -AA)
The topic for today is quantum physics. Quantum physics was developed in
the 1930's, as a result of a bet between Albert Einstein and Niels Bohr, to
see who could come up with the most ridiculous theory and still have it
published. Most people agree that Bohr won hands down, although Einstein
did very well in the swimsuit competition.
One of the most important researchers in quantum physics is Werner
Heisenberg, a man with a wonderful sense of humor, who was always cracking
one-liners, like "delta-p times delta-x is less than h!" Ha! ha! What a
card! This is known as Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, which is closely
related to Goedel's Incompleteness Theorem, which says that some things are
true, but you can't prove them, like when my wife and I argue over whether
it's her turn to take out the garbage or not.
What Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle says is that if something is small
enough, you can't say anything about it. Anyone with the I.Q. of baking
powder immediately understood that this means that if you look at something
so small that you can't even *see* it, like my dog, Oscar Wilde's, brain,
then you obviously can't tell, say, what color it is.
But some people didn't get the joke, and decided to investigate this
principle further. They would gather and sit around all day, drinking beer
and performing "Gedankesexperimenten," or "Thank God we're theoretical
physicists so we don't have to get our hands dirty with particle
accelerators and other heavy machinery." The most famous of these is
Schroedinger's Cat, where several physicists kidnap Erwin Schroedinger's cat
Fluffy and lock it up in a box, along with a radioactive source such as
Cheez Doodles. Then they walk around with concerned expressions on their
faces, commenting about how they don't know what's going on inside the box.
This goes on until the cleaning lady discovers the box, opens it and tells
the physicists whether the cat is dead, or whether it has mutated into a
man-eating flea the size of Norway.
The point of this experiment is to show that uncertainty at the quantum
level can be detected in the macroscopic world and produce widespread
anxiety and paranoia. It also explains why paper clips just lie there while
you look at them, but as soon as you turn your back, they run away, giggling
wildly, and transform themselves into coat hangers.
Another famous researcher is Richard Feynman, who invented Feynman diagrams,
which are bunches of squiggly lines with greek letters next to them. The
way they were discovered was, one day, Hans Bethe came in to Feynman's
office to say that some of the guys down in particle research were having a
jam session down by the cyclotron, and would Richard like to come over and
bring his bongos? Feynman was out, at the time, cracking a safe or
something, so Bethe tried to leave him a note. On the desk, he found one of
Feynman's daugter's kindergarten drawings. Bethe couldn't make head or tail
of it, and figured that if even he couldn't understand it, then it must be
something Terribly Clever, and promptly called it a Feynman diagram.
This was a major scientific breakthrough, and ever since, proud parents have
been hanging their children's Feynman diagrams on refrigerators with little
muon-shaped magnets, confident that their Little Darlings are developing
important scientific theories every day, because they are, after all, Gifted
Children.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton. MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to funny@looking.ON.CA
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible. I will reply, mailers willing.
Topical (current events) jokes should be sent to topical@looking.ON.CA


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From arensb@cvl.umd.edu Mon Jun 12 10:37:01 1989
From: arensb@cvl.umd.edu (Andrew Arensburger)
Subject: Quantum physics
(This just materialized on my desk one day. It's in my handwriting, so I
must have written it, though I'll deny it if I'm indicted. -AA)
The topic for today is quantum physics. Quantum physics was developed in
the 1930's, as a result of a bet between Albert Einstein and Niels Bohr, to
see who could come up with the most ridiculous theory and still have it
published. Most people agree that Bohr won hands down, although Einstein
did very well in the swimsuit competition.
One of the most important researchers in quantum physics is Werner
Heisenberg, a man with a wonderful sense of humor, who was always cracking
one-liners, like "delta-p times delta-x is less than h!" Ha! ha! What a
card! This is known as Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, which is closely
related to Goedel's Incompleteness Theorem, which says that some things are
true, but you can't prove them, like when my wife and I argue over whether
it's her turn to take out the garbage or not.
What Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle says is that if something is small
enough, you can't say anything about it. Anyone with the I.Q. of baking
powder immediately understood that this means that if you look at something
so small that you can't even *see* it, like my dog, Oscar Wilde's, brain,
then you obviously can't tell, say, what color it is.
But some people didn't get the joke, and decided to investigate this
principle further. They would gather and sit around all day, drinking beer
and performing "Gedankesexperimenten," or "Thank God we're theoretical
physicists so we don't have to get our hands dirty with particle
accelerators and other heavy machinery." The most famous of these is
Schroedinger's Cat, where several physicists kidnap Erwin Schroedinger's cat
Fluffy and lock it up in a box, along with a radioactive source such as
Cheez Doodles. Then they walk around with concerned expressions on their
faces, commenting about how they don't know what's going on inside the box.
This goes on until the cleaning lady discovers the box, opens it and tells
the physicists whether the cat is dead, or whether it has mutated into a
man-eating flea the size of Norway.
The point of this experiment is to show that uncertainty at the quantum
level can be detected in the macroscopic world and produce widespread
anxiety and paranoia. It also explains why paper clips just lie there while
you look at them, but as soon as you turn your back, they run away, giggling
wildly, and transform themselves into coat hangers.
Another famous researcher is Richard Feynman, who invented Feynman diagrams,
which are bunches of squiggly lines with greek letters next to them. The
way they were discovered was, one day, Hans Bethe came in to Feynman's
office to say that some of the guys down in particle research were having a
jam session down by the cyclotron, and would Richard like to come over and
bring his bongos? Feynman was out, at the time, cracking a safe or
something, so Bethe tried to leave him a note. On the desk, he found one of
Feynman's daugter's kindergarten drawings. Bethe couldn't make head or tail
of it, and figured that if even he couldn't understand it, then it must be
something Terribly Clever, and promptly called it a Feynman diagram.
This was a major scientific breakthrough, and ever since, proud parents have
been hanging their children's Feynman diagrams on refrigerators with little
muon-shaped magnets, confident that their Little Darlings are developing
important scientific theories every day, because they are, after all, Gifted
Children.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton. MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to funny@looking.ON.CA
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible. I will reply, mailers willing.
Topical (current events) jokes should be sent to topical@looking.ON.CA


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Quest
=====
by
Plastique
Cothar rode slowly through the forest, ducking occasionally to avoid low
branches across the trail. Looking down he noticed that he had somehow opened
the wound on his left arm again. Cursing under his breath he stopped his horse
long enough to tighten the bandage. He couldn't afford to stop and give it the
attention it deserved. Only a couple hours behind him were the advance scouts
of Krast's horde.
If he was lucky the scouts wouldn't stumble across this overgrown and sorry
excuse of a trail, but he couldn't count on luck. Thinking of luck triggered
his memory as to just how 'lucky' he'd been. His entire life had been one long
string of bad luck. He'd been forced to kill the king's younger son in a duel
honor to save his life. He was sentenced to death, but that had been commuted
when they'd found out that Krast was planning an invasion. Even though many
thought the worst of him, all realized that he was one of the best strategists
in the kingdom.
From that point things went downhill. No matter what happened with the
invasion, after it was over, he would be stripped of his title. Krast's horde
was larger than was belived possible. He must have pulled every available man
of fighting age together for this force. That, however, was all that was known
about his force. The scouts that were sent out either didn't come back or were
unable to report any useful information. Cothar decided to risk himself on a
spying mission. He was unable to do anything else without accurate
information. He had barely gotten enough information to justify the risk of
the trip when he stumbled across one of Krast's scouting parties. He managed
to defeat two of them, but the third escaped to give the alarm.
He'd been running ever since. It was pure chance that he discovered this
overgrown trail in this dense forest. It allowed him to rest his horse while
his pursuit exausted their horses trying to fight through the undergrowth. He
had maybe another hour before they reached the spot where he stumbled across
the track.
Cothar's attention snapped back to the trail when a branch he hadn't noticed
slapped his face. Looking ahead Cothar saw the trail ended in what looked like
a cliff face, overgrown with vegetation. Closer inspection proved it to be an
edifice carved out of the cliff. It looked like this would be his best and
only chance of surviving his pursuers.
Approaching the structure, it seemed that there was only one entrance. There
were windows that were nothing but gaping holes, fortunately all well out of
the reach of the ground. The doors, made of solid stone and wide enough to
admit men on horseback five abreast, were slightly ajar. Cothar dismounted to
get a close look at them. The vines covered the doors, but the vegetation was
not thick enough to obscure the inscribed symbols. Moving some vines to see if
he would decipher the old script, his eyes locked onto a symbol he recognized.
He im- mediately turned and spat on the ground. Turning his back on the
structure he now realized was a temple, he returned to his horse and tried to
sort out his thoughts enough so he could make an intelligent decision.
For close to one thousand years not one person in the world worshipped the old
Gods. A millenium ago when the worship of Gods was common, two of them got
into a dispute. Each claimed that the other was evil. Their priesthoods
managed to get several countries each to support their cause. The resulting
war nearly wiped out the human race. The armies were so equally matched that
instead of one or the other securing victory, all they did was wipe each other
out.
From that time forward it was decided that anybody worshipping the old Gods
would be drawn and quartered. If anybody found that Cothar had taken shelter
in a temple after he got back, his enemies would have all the excuse they
needed to have him executed immediately. It didn't appear that he had much
choice, however. Those tracking him would find him eventually, and probably in
a much less defensible place.
Taking a deep breath, Cothar decided to make the best of a bad situation.
Going back to the doors, he peered though the crack but was unable to see
anything. Bracing himself, he threw his weight against the door.
The door, perfectly balanced on its hinge, opened easily at Cothar's overeager
attack. He fell flat on his face, having the misfortune to land on his already
injured left arm. Rolling quickly to get his weight off it, he placed it
perfectly in the path of the rebounding door. After several moments the pain
subsided enough for him to gasp air in ragged breaths.
Laying there on the floor Cothar decided to take in as much of the place as he
could before he was ready to stand. The temple was very decrepit. Stones from
the ceiling littered the entrance hallway. On the floor next to him several
stones blocked the other door from opening. They reached nearly to what was
left of the ceiling. Focusing his examination on the inside of the door, he
saw that it was capable of being barred shut, but that there was nothing in
sight that would serve as a bar. Glancing back up at the ceiling somthing
registered that hadn't before. A block directly above him that looked like it
was ready to fall on him at any moment! This gave Cothar the impetus to move
out from under it. Once he was outside, he went back to his horse and tried to
decide what to do. There didn't seem to be any way to defend the entrance from
the scouts that were after him. There seemed to be three of them, he wasn't
sure of course, but it felt right when he thought about it. He couldn't handle
three, two maybe, but not three, especially not with his arm in the condition
it was. Just when he was about to give up and try to find a way around the
cliff and back home, his eyes fell across the rope hooked to his saddle.
"It just might work," he mumbled under his breath. Galvanized into action, he
grabbed the rope from the saddle and led his horse into the temple.
* * * * *
From the vantage point his window proffered, Cothar was able to spot his
pursuit about a mile from the temple. He hoped his plan worked, otherwise he
had just set himself up in a deathtrap. During his grace period while his
pursuiers were catching up, he managed to explore the temple fairly well. The
main hall was pretty much the only place where the deterioration was very evi-
dent. That and the hall immediately above it.
The rest of the temple was mostly small rooms and meandering hallways. He
hadn't explored much into the far back of the temple, but he had a fairly good
idea of how the front of it was set up. There were only a few good places to
fight if his idea didn't work out. Quickly he moved to a point in the temple
where he was both able to observe the approach of the scouts and see the
entrance though the holes in the ceiling of the main hall. It didn't take long
for the scouts to approach the temple. They spent only a little time
discussing before they started towards the entrance. Cothar was gratified to
learn that there were indeed only three scouts in the search party. When they
passed out of view from the window he shifted position slightly to get a better
view of the entrance. As he did so, he realized that he was sweating
profusely. This would never do, he needed to be calm incase his trap didn't
work.
Suddenly the hall filled with a booming sound as the door slammed against the
wall. Cothar had a quick impression of two men, one on the floor and the other
about ten feet behind, before the block that he boobytrapped crushed the man on
the floor. The trap had worked perfectly! Unfortunately only one of them had
been killed in the trap. He had tied his rope around the bar brace on the
openable door. The brace on the blocked door served as a pulley to pull the
stone from the ceiling. It had taken him twenty minutes to set it up with his
injured arm, and several close calls. Once he even thought he was going to be
crushed as the block shifted.
Before the two remaining scouts had a chance to recover, Cothar quickly and a
quietly as he could, ran out of the hall through two rooms and down a stairway
to reach his hiding place. He would have prefered to be in this spot when the
door opened, but the statue he was hiding behind blocked his view of the
entrance. He needed to know how many had been killed by the block. 'Well,' he
thought, 'at least the odd are now only two to one.
Soon Cothar was able to see the two survivors slowly walking through the main
hall. They were being extremely cautious in their actions, probably quite a
bit more cautious than they were before they opened the door. Within a minute
at the pace they were going, they would pass the statue that hid him.
Hopefully he would be able to take one of them out and get away before the
other could react. Across from his statue was a hole into another room. He
set it up to seal itself with rubble right after he pulled himself through.
Cothar shook his head as he realized he wasn't paying attention to his enemies.
They were nearly even with his position. When they were two steps past the
statue, he sliped out from behind it and raised his seven inch stilleto to stab
the hindmost scout. But once more his bad luck struck again, he kicked a small
rock with his foot.
The first man turned around in a flash causing the second to look over his
shoulder. Cursing under his breath, Cothar shifted his aim and managed to
plant the stilleto into the rear scout's left eye. He fell with a scream as
his companion launched himself at Cothar. As his opponent covered the distance
between them, Cothar quickly realized that he wouldn't have the slightest
chance of ducking out though the hole. Deciding on his course of action,
Cothar raised the rapier he'd been holding in his right hand and engaged the
scout.
Cothar finally had a chance to get at good look at the scouts as he parried
several blows. They both wore tight mesh chainmail surcoats and helms. This
was academic in the case of the scout with the new eye ornament. With this
information under his belt, Cothar changed his pattern from generalized defense
to a devious setup for a counterattack. Since he could only attack the face or
the legs successfully, he launched an attack for the legs. None of the thurst
would have connected if the scout failed to parry, but they were agressive
enough he couldn't afford to test them.
In keeping with his intent to distract, Cothar made just enough feints to the
head for good fighting style. The scout was too good for Cothar to feel
comfortable about this fight, but nonetheless, he was confident he would win.
The scout fell for the trap laid in Cothar's offense, increasingly leaving his
head open for attack. At the right moment, Cothar lunged at his foe's neck,
nearly decapitating the poor fool. Before Cothar could feel the rush of
adrenalin that accompined victory, he glanced down to realize that the scout's
sword had pierced his chest just below his heart. He had managed to dispatch
the scout but had not been able to avoid taking a lung shot himself. Cursing
with pain, Cothar quickly grabbed the sword in his chest before the collapse of
the scout could slice the sword tip up through his chest to his heart. He
succeeded, but not without a great deal of pain. Carefully he pulled the sword
out. It had not gone all the way though, but his lung was already filling up
with blood.
'Great,' he thought disgustedly, 'my luck strikes again. I managed to defeat
Krast's scouts, only to die from my own wound a short time later.'
Coughing into his fist, Cothar retreated deeper into the temple towards where
he had left his horse. He noted absently the blood that stained his glove. He
knew that he was dead. That he should just find a comfortable place to
formalize the occasion. He knew, however, he just wouldn't accept that as the
answer to his problem. Grimly smiling to himself, he thought of how he would
probably try to dig his way out of a caved-in mine. The room his horse was in
was about as far back in the temple as he'd dared explore in the time he'd
given himself. The room was rather small to leave a horse in, but there were
no visible signs of decay. Though the door was was melenium old wood, it was
still as solid as any other oak door of recent construction. The room itself
was about twenty by twenty feet across with a ten foot high ceiling. Along the
far wall was what Cothar dimly recognized as a four foot high stone altar.
Unlike other rooms he'd run across in the temple, this one had no furni- ture
or ornaments in it.
Closing the door behind him, Cothar went to his horse and grabbed the medical
kit from the saddle. He set it down on the block and began the torturous
process of removing his jacket and tunic. He almost blacked out, but he
managed to remain concious knowing that he might not wake up if he did. With
that done, he pulled a linen bandage out and began the slow process of tending
to himself.
Glancing up at the horse, Cothar was pleased to note that the gelding was still
calm. He was quite sure the smell of his blood would have upset most other
equines. There was enough of it on his clothes that a swamp rat with its nose
removed could still find him. This particular horse, however, had gone through
scout training, a process that produced some of the best horses in the known
world. Though battle trained, they were also trained to be totally silent
unless otherwise commanded. They also responded to any given command
instantly, even if it appeared to lead to pain or death. Cothar himself had
seen a scout trained horse commanded to attack a mountain cat, and do it!
There probably would be more of these horses if it weren't for the fact that
only a third of the horses entered in to training came out alive.
That dismal thought brought Cothar out of his reverie. He quickly finished
tending himself and put away his medical supplies. He picked the kit up and
was stepping back to the horse when his feet got tangled up and he tripped.
The pain was excruciating, but he managed to stand back up.
"AAARRRGGGGHHHHHHH!" he screamed despite the pain in his lungs. "If any of you
blasted Gods still exist, I'll serve you if only I can bring about the
distruction of Krast's horde!" The echo was still dying as Cothar realized what
he had just said. The cold feeling in his gut was just having a chance to
settle in when it struck him that HE had been the one who had said it. Both
those cold feelings were eclipsed when room began to get brighter.
Cothar turned around and saw that the wall behind the altar was glowing. While
Cothar watched, the wall continued to grow in brightness until it was blinding
white. Somehow Cothar could look at it without hurting his eyes. Just when he
thought it couldn't get any brighter, the light faded. As a matter of fact,
not only did the light fade, so did the wall! Cothar was left in a room with a
floor, ceiling, and three walls. Where the fourth wall had been was now a door
into a golden yellow sky filled with fluffy, pale blue clouds.
Despite the shocking difference from the norm, Cothar didn't pay much attention
to the skyscape. In front of him, even though he cold see no ground, stood an
extremely handsome young man. Cothar noticed that the youth had curly blond
hair, pale white skin, deep blue eyes, and a sardonic expression. He wore a
sleeveless white tunic that extended to his knees and was secured at the waist
with a belt of gold. Cothar was still trying to assimilate all this when the
young man spoke.
"Well, well, well," the youth spoke, "I see we have another stupid idi..., I
mean faithful servant." The voice was pleasant to hear, even though the tone
was much deeper than expected for a youth. What he had said, however, chilled
Cothar to the bone. The youth appeared to be of normal height, but certain
things led Cothar to believe otherwise. One was that he also appeared to be at
a fair distance from Cothar, which would have made him appear to be smaller.
Another was that the motion of the clouds was such that there appeared to be a
brisk wind out there, but the youth's tunic barely rustled.
"I am Zerth," the youth spoke again. "I am one of the 'blasted Gods' you
promised yourself to. By the way, you do realize just how stupid that promise
was, don't you?" All Cothar could do was to dumbly nod his head. Before he
could gather his wits, he started coughing again. When he managed to stop a
couple of minutes later, he was so light headed he could barely stand. He
could tell that he had only a few minutes left before he would pass out and
die.
"Tsk, tsk," Zerth clucked, "How can you expect to serve me like that? You're
barely even alive. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to fix that," he finished,
negligently flicking his hand toward Cothar. From that flick sprung forth a
bolt of gold light that sped toward Cothar, striking him full on.
For a few moments Cothar was surrounded by the light before it faded. When it
was gone he realized that he was no longer dizzy. In fact, he was more alert
than he'd felt in a long time. It was a couple of seconds before he noticed
that he didn't hurt anymore. His chest felt normal, and looking at his arm he
saw that the gash he had received was no longer there. Shocked, Cothar ripped
the hastily made bandage from his arm to find that there wasn't even a scar.
Shifting his examination, Cothar peeked under his chest bandage and found that
the only blood on him was a small patch that had soaked back from the linen.
Cothar turned to face Zerth and realized the God had been patiently watching
his astonished examination.
"W-W-What? How? Why?" Cothar managed to spit out.
"Well, let's answer your questions in order," Zerth said, tiling His head and
resting it on His right palm. The elbow of the right arm in turn was supported
by the left palm. Somehow the gesture seemed effeminate to Cothar.
"The answer to what, is I healed you of all your wounds. Even the scar on your
left palm you got in childhood is gone." Zerth waited for Cothar to confirm the
statement by examination then continued.
"The answer to how, is because I willed it."
"The answer to why is a bit more complex. It deals with that very stupid
promise you made a couple of minutes ago. You see, I'm not like most of the
other Gods around, a fact you will realize shortly and be very grateful for.
It allowed Me to transport you to My `waiting room'. Put basicly, which it's
al- ready to late to do, I wanted another agent and you let Me pick you."
"As to why I picked you personally, it's because you probably have the most
open mind on your little mudball of a world. You also are an excellent fighter
and a quick thinker. You don't just charge into a situation when you believe
that it can be solved without violence. I need that quality in my agents."
Cothar used the time Zerth was explaining to pull his wits together a bit.
When Zerth mentioned agents for the second time Cothar interjected, "Why do you
need `agents'? Don't Gods just gather worshippers, or some such thing?"
"Most do," Zerth replied, "I happen to be one that doesn't. You see, most Gods
gain power through their worshippers, I don't. That's one reason you were very
lucky in having Me show up. If another God would have answered you, He would
have demanded that you start up His religion on your world. Me, all I'm going
to do is have you serve me personally in return for saving your kingdom."
"But why do you need agents?" Cothar reiterated, "Why don't you just do what
you need by yourself?"
"Well..." Zerth hesitated, then appeared to make a decision, "I suppose I can
tell you. It deals with what Gods actually are. I'm sure that you wouldn't be
able to understand the technical details, several Gods don't Themselves, so
I'll try an analogy that will be easier to understand."
"The best way to think of Gods is as fifty foot tall giants. We all live in a
castle that is large enough to house us. But this castle isn't built to our
specifications. There are several halls that allow us to move about freely,
but there are large portions of the castle that are build to normal sized
humans. There are even whole areas of the castle that only humans can get to.
The Gods are more than capable of breaking down some walls to get to where they
want. They can even do so without getting hurt, but They may bring the entire
castle down on Their heads. This may not kill Them, but it will certainly kill
large numbers of humans."
"This is where the agents come in. They can go where the Gods can't. Most of
Us use religious servants for agents, but I don't have religious followers. I
only have my agents. I have a lot more of them than other Gods do, and I have
a reputation among my peers of getting things DONE."
"Now," Zerth said rubbing his hands together gleefully, "let's go over the
terms of your servitude. I believe you stated that you would serve a 'blasted
God' if you could bring about the distruction of the barbarian Krast and his
army?" It was more a statement than a question.
"You mean I'm bound by that stupid promise?" Cothar asked in disbelief. "I
wouldn't have said it if I'd known that anybody would listen. I mean I only
said it because I was in pain! I-I- I can't break the agreement..., if there
is one?" Cothar asked, confused, trying to find any way out of this terrible
situation.
"You are most certainly bound by it!" Zerth exclaimed, apparently disgusted
with Cothar. "You were bound by it the moment I healed you! If you really
want to, I can break our agreement, but I don't think you will like the
result," Zerth ended in a lighter tone with what could best be called sadistic
grin.
"What do you mean?" Cothar asked, his hackles rising at Zerth's sudden change
in tone.
"Welll. . .," Zerth drawled, "if I broke our agreement, I would have to leave
you in the exact same condition I found you in. That would mean that you would
still have that hole in your lung, and that you would be dead within the hour.
Your kingdom will be overrun by an opposing army headed by a petty little man
named Krast."
At this explanation, Cothar's shoulders drooped in defeat. "It looks like I'm
going to be serving You then," he said. "How are You going to help me defeat
Krast's horde? What are You going to do, wave Your hand and have them all
disappear?"
"Not exactly," Zerth grinned, "another God owes Me a favor. He's got an army
of religious zealots. Great fighers, and the fact that they have six arms does
help them when they go up against bipeds."
"I believe that your Krast has about fifty thousand warriors?" Zerth asked,
savoring the shocked expression that wouldn't stay off Cothar's face. Cothar
nodded and Zerth continued, "I believe that two hundred thousand warriors would
take care of them quite easily."
"I thank you!" Cothar exclaimed, still stunned but grateful.
"When will you be able bring them here?"
"It wouldn't do any good to bring them here," Zerth said calmly, with his ever
present relaxation. "Why don't you open the door behind you?"
Off balance, but resigned to compliance, Cothar followed Zerth's instruction
and received yet another blow to his mental stability. When the door was open,
all Cothar could see was more of the same skyscape that was visible from the
vanished wall. 'At least,' he thought, 'I seem to be getting used to these
shocks.'
"As to when I will summon them to your world," Zerth interjected into Cothar's
silence, "which I believe was what you were trying to ask, it depends on you."
"What are You talking about?" Cothar asked. "I though You said I had to serve
You in return for Your help in destroying Krast."
"I have to get some confirmation that you will be capable of serving me." Zerth
replied in a hurt tone. "You can't expect Me to do all that work without
knowing whether or not you will even live through your first assignment. For
all I know you are incapable of handling the tasks I have for you. When you
have completed your first job I will take care of Krast," Zerth said with
finality.
"Now," Zerth said after a minute, His smile back, "on to the conditions under
which you will work. Also, you will have several benefits. First off, I have
a partner for you. He isn't quite what you would consider a normal human, but
I'll get into that later. His name is Quer-Ling, and he is one of the more
powerful mages around. He is another of My agents and will help you through
your ordeals."
"Second, I have a weapon for you. I really shouldn't do this, but I've always
had a soft spot for beginners. Your weapon is a sword, somewhat similar to a
rapier. It's something I whipped up myself. The blade of it is so sharp it
will cut through about anything. And if that weren't enough, it is also
capable of absorbing a few direct attacks by another God. Only about three or
four at a time, but more than that, and I would have had to make it alive--and
I don't think you're ready for that."
"Third and last, you are under My protection. On your world, I will arrange it
so that no one will try to kill you for serving a God. I am well aware of the
opinion your world has of Gods. Oh, point of interest, you may not realize it,
but the general attitude of your world towards Gods in general was enough to
keep any of Them from entering it without a direct request. It's one of those
limitations I mention to you in the castle analogy. However, you were kind
enough to provide Me with an engraved invitation."
Zerth finished his monologue and then snapped his fingers. An item appeared on
either side of him. On Zerth's right was what looked like a dagger. On His
left was an obsidian statue a little less than half of Zerth's height, wearing
black chainmail. Before Cothar had a chance to ask about them, they moved
towards him and entered the room.
Cothar realized just how big Zerth was. The obsidian statue was actually about
nine feet tall, and the `dagger' was actually a thirty inch rapier! The sword
had a normal hilt, but the blade consisted of a metal dowel a quarter inch in
diamater and a transparent metal arc. The ghostly metal curve was attached to
the rod at the hilt, but other than that, they didn't appear to touch.
Examining it closer, Cothar saw that while it WAS a rapier, it resembled a
single edged cutlass.
Cothar turned from the floating sword to look at the statue. It was a work of
art, clothed in black chainmail with all the little items that would normally
be left out of a sculpture. The strangest thing about it was the eyes, they
were a faintly glowing red. Cothar moved toward it to take a better look when
the eyes slowly blinked.
Focusing his attention on the face of the statue Cothar realized his mistake.
It wasn't a statue; it was a living being which turned to Cothar and extended
its hand. Cothar took it and the being said, "I'm Quer-Ling. I guess you and
I are partners. Zerth said your name is Cothar. Glad to meet you."
"Ahem," Zerth cleared his throat, causing Cothar and Quer- Ling to turn back to
him. "Cothar, you will be getting your as- signments though Quer-Ling. He
will help you along on your tasks, but you will be the one in charge of the
team. I know it seems that your team is mismatched, but Quer-Ling is a
terrible strategist, that's why I teamed him up with you. I must be leav- ing
now, but have fun, kiddies. Tootles," Zerth grinned while the wall reformed
between them.
"Well," Quer-Ling broke the silence, "I guess we'd better be getting on our
way. Why don't you grab your sword and I'll get the sheath for it. After all,
you just can't stick that in an ordinary scabbard, it'll cut right though."
Cothar turned back to what was now his sword. It was still floating in the air
where it had come to rest. Hesitantly, Cothar reached out and took hold of the
hilt. When he had a good grip, the sword lost its weightlessness and settled
into his hand comfortably. Cothar turned back to Quer-Ling to find that the
black giant had a scabbard in his hands. It didn't look like the sword would
fit into it, though, it was shaped more for something like an fencing epee.
Quer-Ling tossed the sheath to him and Cothar caught it with his free hand.
Taking a closer look, Cothar saw that for most of its length, it was only wide
enough to hold the rod. The last inch an a half before the opening, however,
widened out enough to admit the arc of ghostly metal. "It won't fit in,"
Cothar com- plained to Quer-Ling. "It narrows down so the blade can't go in
more than an inch."
"Just try it," Quer-Ling responded to Cothar's exasperation. Cothar attempted
to comply, just to prove Quer-Ling wrong and gasped when it fit perfectly.
"How does it do that?" Cothar asked.
"It's a little difficult to explain," Quer-Ling said, rub- bing his chin.
"What the sheath does is seperate the sword into two different dimensions. One
is ours, that's the one that holds the non-cutting part of the sword. The
other holds the edge of the sword so it can't cut anything while sheathed.
Enough about the scabbard though, we need to be getting on our way." Though
eager to get underway, Quer-Ling waited for Cothar to attach the scabbard to
his belt and stow what gear was left out from the medical kit.
Opening the door showed only the parts of the temple that were there prior to
Cothar's divine interview. When they reached the entrance, however, Cothar
discovered that his trap had blocked off the entrance. It was removed quickly
by Quer-Ling rolling the block out of the doorway. Cothar managed to recover
his rope before the block was moved, after all, `one never knows when one might
need a length rope'.
Outside Cothar realized that he still didn't know where they were going or what
they had to do. Quer-Ling replied, "We're supposed to get a jewel from the
crown of some king. He rules the kingdom of Rastan or somthing like that. The
jewel is the activator for a magic sword that is needed to gather together an
army for some God Zerth owes a favor to. Something to do with this prophesy
that has to be fulfilled before they will form an army. Whatever the reason,
we need to get the gem. Nobody who knows what it is has been able to get at it
since your world sealed itself off."
"At least Rastan is on the opposite side of my kingdom from Krast," Cothar said
relieved. "We still have to ride through my kingdom to get to Rastan. I need
to keep from being seen by anybody who knows me, they'll think I'm deserting.
I don't need that added to my already bad reputation."
"I may be able to help you there," Quer-Ling said, "do you have a map that
shows both where we are and where Rastan is?" Cothar did, "It shows most of my
kingdom and a lot of the surrounding kingdoms. I was using it to mark the
positions of Krast's force, but it should be good enough for whatever you need
it for."
"Yup," Quer-Ling said, and waved his hand over the parch- ment. The map glowed
blue except for several red dots on it. "Which dot is closest to the King of
Rastan's castle?" Cothar pointed at on that was about twenty miles from the
castle. "Good," Quer-Ling replied cheerfully, "I can teleport us there and we
can be at the castle in less than a day."
Cothar rolled up the map and put it back into it's pocket in the saddlebag. He
turned around and saw Quer-Ling get on a horse that hadn't been there five
minutes earlier. It resembled one of the large northern draft horses. Its
eyes were like Quer-Ling's, only they glowed so redly they appeared to be
flaming coals. "Where in all Halls of Rothgar did that thing come from?"
Cothar asked.
"It's my horse" Quer-Ling replied camly, "You couldn't ex- pect me to ride any
of your ponies. They wouldn't be able to take the strain of supporting me.
You ready to go now?" Cothar nodded and Quer-Ling rode his horse forward. They
walked forward for about a hundred feet when suddenly before them opened up a
circle of red light. Quer-Ling rode camly foward into it. Cothar realized
that this was their transportation to Rastan and spurred his horse foward into
it. There was a momen- tary feeling of disorentation which quickly passed.
Cothar found himself and Quer-Ling in a forest which was different from the one
he left.
The rest of the day, what was left of it, was spent travell- ing through the
woods. They camped near the edge of the forest, taking care to conceal their
presence from the locals. Quer-Ling asked Cothar, "Could you sketch out the
floor plan of the castle for me? I might be able to help you work out a plan.
I have a few powers that might make the job a lot easier."
"Well," Cothar paused, "I really don't know much about the floor plan of the
castle. I've only been there twice, and then only on occasions of state. I do
know that the crown jewels are kept in the northern tower under a constant
guard. The tower is mostly a giant staircase. The room at the top has no
windows and only one door. There are two guards at the top and ten at the
bottom. I think there are more that are kept on the stair it- self, but I'm
not sure of that either. The rest of the castle I only have the roughest of
ideas. What were you thinking of that might help?"
"I have a lot of magic at my disposal in this world," Quer- Ling replied,
"especially since not much energy has been used for close to a millenia. None
of what I know will teleport us into a barred room with no windows. I can put
several guards to sleep, but my limit is about twenty. We're sure to run into
more than enough to put me over my limit before we reach the top of the stair.
In addition to that, it's only a normal sleep. If anybody yells, those asleep
will wake up. Can we get to the out- side of the tower from the outside of the
castle walls?" "Yes," Cothar answered, depressed, "but it won't do you any
good. Even though the tower is part of the north wall, the bot- tom half has
been polished as smooth as ice. The top of the tower was built so that no
climbing hook could find purchase. Even if we could I don't see how we could
break our way though a foot of solid stone."
"But we can," Quer-Ling grinned, "with your sword, that is. Remeber what Zerth
said about it?"
"Yes, but no sword can cut though solid stone!" Cothar ex- claimed. "I could
see maybe chipping at it, but that would ruin the sword."
"Your sword can," Quer-Ling said slyly. "Why don't you go over to that boulder
and try to slice it in half. Go on," he urged.
Cothar got up and went over to the big rock. It was about four feet in
diameter and roughly spherical. He gathered himself to damage his strange
looking sword. He looked back at Quer-Ling who was still grinning at him.
Inhaling shaply Cothar drew his sword and struck his hardest blow at the
defenseless rock. The sword passed though the boulder unimpeded. It continued
on into the ground until the hilt stopped it from further progress downward.
The boulder split into two roughly equal halves. Where the sword hadn't
touched, the split looked like normal stone, but where the blade had sliced was
mirror smooth. Cothar turned to stare at Quer-Ling, who merely smiled even
wider and said, "Put your sword away and see if my plan should work." "Ok,
what's this master plan of yours?" Cothar asked. "I need a good laugh," he
said, sheathing his sword.
* * * * *
Three hours before dawn Cothar and Quer-Ling broke camp. Having camped only
five miles from the castle, they reached it with over two hours left until
daylight. The tower was an impos- ing structure, but the duo gave it only a
cursory inspection. "Let me see that map again," Quer-Ling asked. Cothar
handed it over and Quer-Ling examined it, making red dots glow on it again.
Quer-Ling touched one, and it popped off of the map floating in front of him.
"Are the stables fairly isolated at your keep?" he asked Cothar.
"Yes," Cothar responded. "Why do you want to know? My keep is on the far side
of Dracu, my kingdom's capital. Wouldn't it be easier to just ride there when
we're though here?"
"Yes, except for one reason," Quer-Ling answered. "Your en- tire keep is in an
area I can teleport to. We can go there after we're through here. It will
save quite a bit of time. Hold on a second while I find an empty stall or two
for our horses." Quer- Ling continued to look in the red sphere for another
minute, then snapped his fingers and the sphere disappeared.
Quer-Ling turned back to Cothar and said, "I think we should teleport the
horses to your keep now, before we break into the tower. That way, if
something happens, our horses will be at your place and we can always join
them."
"Fine with me," Cothar replied, and quickly removed every- thing he though he
might need from his horse. He got in position at the base of the tower and
turned back in time to catch Quer- Ling doing his trick. A glowing red disk
appeared in the air above both horses and lowered itself onto them. The horses
dis- appeared inch by inch as disk dropped to the ground. When the disk
touched soil, it vanished and Quer-Ling walked over to Cothar.
Cothar prepared the base of the tower for their ascent by cutting notches in
the stone two feet apart, forming the start of a ladder. When he could reach
no higher, he climbed on Quer- Ling's shoulders and they started up the wall.
It took surprisingly little time to work their way up to the top of the tower.
Cothar would cut a notch into the wall about six inches deep and Quer-Ling
would slip the chunk of stone out and fling it into the field below. When they
reached the proper height, Cothar cut a three inch wide slit all the way though
the wall.
Looking into it, Cothar said, "I can't see anybody in there, but I don't know
for sure. If there IS anybody there, he is sit- ting around in the dark. I
can see some of the tables the stuff is on, and none of them are close enough
to matter." "Good," Quer-Ling said, "let's get on with it then. You aren't the
lightest of burdens you know."
Cothar proceeded to cut a four foot wide square out of the tower wall. He
angled the cuts outward from center of the square, so the block could fall into
the tower from its own weight. Within seconds it was done, and Cothar sheathed
his sword.
Cothar looked down at Quer-Ling and received a nod of con- firmation. Cothar
gathered his breath and hit the block as hard as he could with the pommel of
his dagger. The giant chunk of stone slid smoothly inward and hit the floor
with a resounding boom. Cothar jumped into the room, turning to help Quer-Ling
in. Both in, Quer-Ling waved his hands and all of the torches in the room lit
themselves. Before they had a chance to do anything else, the door to the room
burst open and two guards rushed in. Quer-Ling swung his pack at the one
rushing toward him, disarming the unfortunate guard.
Cothar managed to dispatch his opponent quickly. The guard was not used to
having his sword fall into several pieces when he used it. Cothar glanced over
at Quer-Ling just in time to see the guard opposing him fall with a broken
neck. "Get that shield up fast," Cothar ordered. "I can hear the next guard
on the steps." Quer-Ling rushed to comply, and they were both rewarded with the
sight of a guard slamming headlong into a transparent blue wall. "Now, which
one of these gems is the one we need?" Cothar asked, facing piles of treasure
heaped on tables and pouring out of overstuffed chests. Quer-Ling glanced up
and waved his hand at the treasure. "The large ruby that's glowing purple
now." Cothar went through the treasure, of which several gems and pieces of
treasure glowed in different shades of the rainbow. Cothar found it in the
Rastan crown of state. It was the foremost gem, around which the crown was
built. Cothar cursed his luck again. If it was ever found out who had taken
it, he would have one more enemy. He glanced at Quer-Ling and saw sweat on his
obsidian brow, and the shield was wavering. Cothar quickly ripped the gem from
its foundation and yelled to Quer-Ling that he was ready. Quer-Ling waved
toward the hole in the wall and a red disk appeared on the other side of it.
The instant it stabilized, both of them ran to it and jumped though the hole,
passing from sight into the disk.
Cothar rolled on ground covered with straw and slammed into a wooden post.
Quer-Ling was more fortunate and merely rolled into a small haysack. Before he
stood up, Quer-Ling waved at the disk they traveled through, causing it to fade
from existance. Cothar stood up and looked around, trying to place where they
had landed. Within seconds, he had indentified it as his own stables. He was
aided by the fact that the two stalls next to him contained his and Quer-Ling's
horses.
"Well, we got it," Cothar said, holding up the gem. "Where do we go from here?
Quer-Ling opened up the stalls and led their horses out. He turned to Cothar,
saying, "We still have enough time to get to Dracu before dawn. It would
probably look good if you returned the gem to Zerth at dawn. Beyond that is
anybody's guess. Sound good to you?"
"I guess so," Cothar replied as he took his horse from Quer- Ling. "You
realize the reception of Zerth isn't going to be all that great."
* * * * *
Ten minutes before dawn found Cothar and Quer-Ling at the gates of Dracu. "Let
me in!" Cothar yelled at the gatekeeper. "It's Earl Cothar of Nucree! I have
to see the king as soon as possible!"
"Keep yer pants on!" came the reply. "I'm goin ta open the gates now." True to
his word, after a few moments the gates swung wide. The moment they were wide
enough they slipped into the city of Dracu and headed for the castle at the top
of the hill.
Unlike most cities and castles in his world, Dracu had a wall that surrounded
the entire city as well as an interior wall to protect the castle. It made for
greater efficiency in defend- ing the place, but getting to the castle took
longer. Cothar and Quer-Ling managed to cover the distance in three minutes,
five minutes less than it normally took.
There was no problem with the gatekeeper at the castle. Cothar was quite well
known; however if Quer-Ling hadn't been wearing a hooded cloak, they wouldn't
have gotten in. A mes- senger was sent to notify King Michael that Cothar and
a friend waited in the courtyard.
After they dismounted, Cothar asked Quer-Ling, "How do you know that the king
will come to us before sunrise?" "The same way I know that Zerth will show up
at the crack of dawn," Quer-Ling answered, showing Cothar a glowing yellow
sphere. In the sphere Cothar could dimly see Zerth grinning maliciously and
waving at him.
A minute before dawn King Michael came storming into the courtyard. He was
little over forty, but grey had yet to encroach into his ebony mane. He was a
large man, but very wiry due to his constant attention to his fighting. His
voice also evidenced his wellbeing when he shouted, "What's going on here!
Cothar, you aren't supposed to be back for another week or so! Who's this
hulking giant with you?"
Quer-Ling removed his cloak and peered down at the king and said, "I am
Quer-Ling. I am not from your world. We are here to complete a transaction.
If you look up, you will see it take place."
The king looked up just it time to see the first rays of the sun strike the top
of the castle. The glow of dawn spread down like a living thing. Within
seconds everything but Cothar and Quer-Ling were covered in the glow. Above
everybody in the courtyard a deep blue counterglow formed. Zerth stepped out
of the sphere of blue light, which faded out behind him. "I am Zerth," He
said, His voice rebounding in the court- yard. "Cothar, do you have My
property?"
Cothar nodded and held out the gem which Zerth caused to fly up and land in His
hand. He concentrated on it for a second, they it vanished from sight. He
turned back to Cothar and said, "You have fulfilled your end of the agreement.
I will now ful- fill my end." With this pronouncement a creature appeared in
front of Cothar.
The creature resembled a giant spider, slightly taller than a normal man. It
had two legs and six arms, which were all folded in front of it's bulbous body.
There were several weapons strapped about it's body, which was covered in a
fine fur, and what appeared to be symbols of rank. It bowed to Cothar and said
in a raspy voice, "If you show me where to place my troops, I will get around
to defeating your enemies."
Cothar turned to get his map from his saddlebag, but float- ing between him and
his horse was a giant map. It was faintly transparent, but it accurately
displayed all of Krast's forces. Cothar turned back to the creature and said,
"There they are, place your troops where you would. You know them better than
I do. Use your best judgement." The creature nodded, then it and the map faded
from view.
"Cothar, nobody but you and Quer-Ling will hear or remember this part of the
conversation." Zerth said, His sardonic grin once more on His face. "The
forces I brought here will take care of Krast in about two days time. You will
probably be getting word of their defeat in about a week. To keep you from
being killed in your sleep I am going to set it up where you will be
invulnerable for two weeks. I won't be able to do this again. Until it's
over, though, anybody who tries to kill you will die by the method they wanted
to use on you. When I need you again, I'll get ahold of you two through
Quer-Ling. Oh well, back to talking to the others now," Zerth ended, losing
his smile again. "Now hear this," Zerth yelled, His voice loud enough to be
heard across the town, "Cothar and Quer-Ling are my agents! Anybody who tries
to hurt them will die by their own hand! I will not try to start a religion
here! Anybody who tries to start up one under me will have no athuority!
Cothar is not guilty of the crime he is charged with! I will not allow him to
be punished for what he was forced to do to save his life! That is ALL!" with
this pronouncemet, Zerth began to glow as bright as the sun. Everyone but
Cothar and Quer-Ling had to look away. When the glow faded, Zerth had
vanished, along with the glow that had covered everthing.
Cothar turned to Quer-Ling and said, "Zerth sure fills his end of a deal. I
could use more friends like him." Cothar then led Quer-Ling to the quarters
that were reserved for him in the castle. They had to navigate around several
stunned people to get there.
* * * * *
"Hey, Cothar!" Quer-Ling yelled to rouse the slumbering Earl. When a mumble
came from under the pile of blankets Quer-Ling decided Cothar was conscious
enough to continue. "Good news, reports have come in from the front. It
appears that most of the Horde has been wiped out. What's left isn't worth
mentioning. Our troops sort of faded out of sight when the fighting was over
though."
Several seconds passed and Quer-Ling though he might have to start over again
when the blankets exploded off the bed. Cothar sat up with an expression on
his face best described as `bright eyed and bushy tailed'. "That's great new!"
he exclaimed hoping off the bed, "We've won!"
Walking over to a chest next to the bed, Cothar opened it and pulled out his
clothes. Enjoying the morning sun, Cothar slipped a velvet tunic on and
proceded to get dressed for the morning. "Have you heard anything else of
interest?" he asked. Despite his unususal appearance, Quer-Ling has slipped
into the life of the castle, and as a result was able to pick up a lot of
information.
"Well, it appears that they've finally gone to poisioning," Quer-Ling commented
amused. "I don't see many more methods they can try. Every method they've
tried so far has resulted in the death of the assassin. Last night after
dinner, some cook wound up dead with no marks on his body. Word is he was
known to be always in debt due to gambling. I think in another couple of days
we won't have to worry about this anymore."
"That's good," Cothar sighed, "I'm getting sick of people behind me stab
themselves in the back. Oh, heard anything from Zerth yet?"
"Yes, It seems that the gem we took was only half of a larger gem that was
needed. We've got to go back and get the other half."
Quer-Ling looked at Cothar's stunned and depressed expression and relented.
"Just kidding, we should have a month or two before our next assignment."
Quer-Ling barely dodged the flung pillow.
THE END


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Adolescence, n:
The stage between puberty and adultery.
Adult, n:
One old enough to know better.
Adultery, n:
Putting yourself in someone else's position.
Afternoon, n:
That part of the day we spend worrying about how we wasted the morning.
Ambition, n:
An ant crawling up an elephant's leg with rape on his mind.
Antonym, n:
The opposite of the word you're trying to think of.
Anxiety, n:
The first time you can't do it a second time.
Panic, n:
The second time you can't do it the first time.
Automobile, n:
A four-wheeled vehicle that runs up hills and down pedestrians.
Bagbiter:
1. n: Equipment or program that fails, usually intermittently.
2. adj: Failing hardware or software. "This bagbiting system won't
let me get out of spacewar."
Usage: verges on obscenity.
Grammatically separable; one may speak of "biting the bag".
Synonyms: Loser, Losing, Cretinous, Bletcherous, Barfucious,
Chomper, Chomping.
Basic, n:
A programming language. Related to certain social diseases in
that those who have it will not admit it in polite company.
C, n:
A programming language that is sort of like Pascal except more
like assembly except that it isn't very much like either one,
or anything else. It is either the best language available to
the art today, or it isn't.
-- Ray Simard
Chemicals, n:
Noxious substances from which modern foods are made.
Christ, proper n:
A man who was born at least 5,000 years ahead of his time.
Christian, n:
One who believes that the New Testament is a divinely inspired
book admirably suited to the spiritual needs of his neighbor.
One who follows the teachings of Christ in so far as they are
not inconsistent with a life of sin.
Cigarette, n:
A fire at one end, a fool at the other, and
a bit of tobacco in between.
Coitus interruptus, n:
A jerky movement following the words (by either sex partner)
"I want to have your child."
Cold, adj:
When your dog sticks to the fire hydrant.
Confusion, n:
Father's Day in San Francisco.
Conservative, n:
One who admires radicals centuries after they're dead.
-- Leo C. Rosten
Critic, n:
A person who boasts himself hard to please
because nobody tries to please him.
Cynic, n:
A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they
ought to be. Hence the custom among the Scythians of plucking
out a cynic's eyes to improve his vision.
Cynic, n:
One who looks through rose-colored glasses with a jaundiced eye.
Dawn, n:
The time when men of reason go to bed.
Death wish, n:
The only wish that always comes true, whether or not one wishes it to.
Deliberation, n:
The act of examining one's bread to determine which side it is buttered on.
Die, v:
To stop sinning suddenly.
-- Elbert Hubbard
Distress, n:
A disease incurred by exposure to the prosperity of a friend.
Dyke, n:
A woman who kick-starts her vibrator.
Egotist, n:
A person of low taste, more interested in himself than me.
Erogenous zone, n:
The skin you touch to love.
Etymology, n:
Some early etymological scholars come up with derivations that were
hard for the public to believe. The term 'etymology' was formed
>from the Latin 'etus' ("eaten"), the root 'mal' ("bad"), and 'logy'
("study of"). It meant "the study of things that are hard to swallow."
-- Mike Kellen, Oakdale, Minnesota
Fairy tale, n:
A horror story to prepare children for the newspapers.
Female, n:
Life support system for a pussy.
Forgetfulness, n:
A gift of God bestowed upon debtors in compensation
for their destitution of conscience.
Fornication, n:
Term used by people who don't have anybody to screw with.
Great Lover, n:
A man who can breathe through his ears.
Hangover, n:
The burden of proof.
Hangover, n:
The wrath of grapes.
Happiness, n:
An agreeable sensation arising from contemplating the misery of another.
Heavy, adj:
Seduced by the chocolate side of the Force.
Hermit, n:
A man who'd rather get off by himself.
Honor, n:
Almost as good as in 'er.
Horny, adj:
When your cock gets hard if the wind blows.
Hypocrite, n:
A man who says he likes cats, but won't eat pussy.
Idiot, n:
A member of a large and powerful tribe whose influence in human
affairs has always been dominant and controlling.
Immortality, n:
A fate worse than death.
Incest, n:
Relatively boring.
Incest, n:
Sibling revelry; a sport the whole family can enjoy.
Incumbent, n:
Person of liveliest interest to the outcumbents.
Infatuation, n:
When you're in love, there's a lump in your throat.
When you're infatuated, there's a lump in your pants.
Ingrate, n:
A man who bites the hand that feeds him,
and then complains of indigestion.
Ink, n:
A villainous compound of tannogallate of iron, gum-arabic, and
water, chiefly used to facilitate the infection of idiocy and promote
intellectual crime.
Interpreter, n:
One who enables two persons of different languages to
understand each other by repeating to each what it would
have been to the interpreter's advantage for the other to have said.
Justice, n:
A decision in your favor.
Kleptomaniac, n:
A rich thief.
Knowledge, n:
Things you believe.
Labia majora, n:
The curly gates.
Labor, n:
One of the processes by which A acquires property for B.
Lie, n:
A very poor substitute for the truth, but the only one discovered to date.
Life, n:
A sexually transmitted disease which afflicts
some people more severely than others.
Machine-independent, adj:
Does not run on any existing machine.
Macho, n or adj:
Jogging home from a vasectomy.
Majority, n:
That quality that distinguishes a crime from a law.
Manual, n:
A unit of documentation. There are always three or more on a
given item. One is on the shelf; someone has the others. The
information you need in in the others.
-- Ray Simard
Marriage, n:
The evil aye.
Meeting, n:
An assembly of people coming together to decide what person or
department not represented in the room must solve a problem.
Millihelen, n:
Beauty enough to launch one Greek warship.
Navel, n:
A place to stash your gum on the way down.
Necrophilia, n:
Dead boring.
Necrophilia, n:
Dropping in for a cold one.
Nothing, n:
A man with an erection who walks into a wall and breaks his nose.
Ocean, n:
A body of water occupying about two-thirds of
a world made for man -- who has no gills.
Oral sex, n:
The taste of things to come.
Pascal, n:
A programming language named after a man who would turn
over in his grave if he knew about it.
Penis envy, n:
The desire to be pink and wrinkled and about four inches long.
Portable, adj:
Survives system reboot.
Quality Control, n:
The process of testing one out of every 1,000 units coming off
a production line to make sure that at least one out of 100 works.
QWERT (kwirt), n. [MW < OW qwertyuiop, a thirteenth]:
1. a unit of weight equal to 13 poiuyt avoirdupois
(or 1.69 kiloliks), commonly used in structural engineering;
2. [colloq.] one thirteenth the load that a fully grown sligo can carry;
3. [anat.] a painful irritation of the dermis in the region of the anus;
4. [slang] person who excites in others the symptoms of a qwert.
-- Webster's Middle World Dictionary, 4th ed.
Sadism, n:
A sadist refusing to whip a masochist.
Spouse, n:
Someone who'll stand by you through all the trouble
you wouldn't have had if you'd stayed single.
Sweater, n:
A garment worn by a child when its mother feels chilly.
Tact, n:
The unsaid part of what you're thinking.
Taxes, n:
Of life's two certainties, the only one for which you can get an extension.
Transfer, n:
A promotion you receive on the condition that you leave town.
Unfair competition, n:
Selling cheaper than we do.
Universe, n:
The problem.
User, n:
A programmer who will believe anything you tell him.
Virgin, n:
Waste.
Virtue is its own punishment.
Wet dream, n:
Overnight sensation.


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Article 828 of rec.humor.funny:
From: brett@hpsrbkc.hp.com (Brett K. Carver)
Subject: Bug out
Date: 7 Oct 90 23:30:07 GMT
Here's a list of famous quotes and words of wisdom developed by the engineers
from the now defunct Salt Lake City Operation of Hewlett-Packard. Over a
period of several days they slowly appeared on a centrally located white-board.
One day I copied them down to save for posterity.
Brett Carver
brett@hpnmd.hp.com
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Few Lesser Known Famous Quotes:
"Code so clean...you can eat off it."
"Learned more from a three minute bug fix than we ever did in school."
Bruce Sprinsteen
"Four score and seven (hundred) bugs ago, our fore-fathers brought forth
a new application."
from The Gettysbug Address
"If we can't fix it, it isn't broken."
Lab manager
"Never test for a bug you don't know how to fix."
QA manager
"Don't break it if you can't fix it."
Marketing manager
I think therefore I create bugs."
Descartes
"Debug is human, de-fix divine."
"There's a bug born every minute, and two to replace him."
P. T. Bugem
The Bugs Of Wrath
John Steinbug
"There are two ways to write bug-free code; only the third way works."
unknown consultant
Final message received from the Titanic: "Fatal crash due to icebug."
"Bugs Bunny was an optimist."
"One small bug for man, one great program for mankind."
N. Armstrong
"The bug is mightier than the fix."
Cyrano deBuggerac
"Man does not live by bug fixes alone."
The Super-User
"For every bug fixed, there is a bigger bug not yet discovered."
"The bug stops here."
H. Trubug
"Frankly, Scarlett, I don't have a fix."
Rhett Buggler
"I regret that I have but one fix to give for my country."
Nathan Hale
"I have just begun to debug."
"...Jesus cried with a loud voice: Lazarus, come forth; the bug hath been found
and thy program runneth. And he that was dead came forth..."
John 11:43-44
"Bugs bugs everywhere, and not a fix in sight."
"I never met a bug I didn't like."
Will Rogers
"A feature is a bug with seniority."
"This time I'm going to get that cwwwwazzy ewwwor."
Elmer Fud
--


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Article 1 of rec.arts.movies:
Path: santra!tut!draken!kth!enea!mcvax!uunet!seismo!sundc!pitstop!sun!amdcad!ames!fxgrp!grady
From: grady@fxgrp (Steven Grady)
Newsgroups: rec.humor,rec.games.trivia,rec.arts.comics,rec.arts.tv,rec.arts.movies
Subject: My quotes file
Message-ID: <952@fxgrp.UUCP>
Date: 16 Jan 89 23:27:16 GMT
Sender: grady@fxgrp.UUCP
Reply-To: grady@postgres.berkeley.edu (Steven Grady)
Organization: FX Development Group, Inc., Mountain View, CA
Lines: 496
Xref: santra rec.games.trivia:1062 rec.arts.movies:1
OK, I guess it's time for me to post my quotes list again. As usual
(well, kind of -- I've only posted them once before), I will post them
in random order, without attributions, so you can have fun figuring out
where they came from. In about a week, I'll post the original file,
with the attributes in comments. I'll also post the wimpy program I
use that reads my .fortunes file.
I have two criteria for my quotes: a) it must be public (ie I don't
include quotes my friend Joe Shmoe said. People who have tastes very
similar to mine conceivably could recognize all of these quotes) and b)
it must have made me laugh out loud. This explains why my list is
relatively short (currently, there are 159 entries).
I will happily take corrections to the wording of the quotes, but,
please, no suggestions for additional quotes. Somehow, this list is
very personal, and if I don't spot the quote myself, I probably won't
include it. Oh, plaudits, compliments, and the like are welcome -- in
fact they are required.
Steven
...!ucbvax!grady
grady@postgres.berkeley.edu
############################################################
"Wheat. So what?"
"A penny for your thoughts?"
"A dollar for your death."
"Get a life!"
...And since the stench of death will always attract flies and vermin,
the arrival of Geraldo was perhaps inevitable.
"I'm sorry, but you must have me confused with some OTHER
plate-lipped white girl named `Irene'"
"You're just the sort of person I imagined marrying, when I was little...
..except, y'know, not green...
...and without all the patches of fungus."
Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels
start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals
and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas.
"Oh Mr. Bellpit, your legs are so swollen!"
"It's Czechoslovakia! It's like going into Wisconsin!"
The heart, the liver, the spleen, the pancreas. All these miraculous
organs work in _total_darkness_!
"Nice tie... BONEHEAD!"
"Bicycle Repair Man, how can I ever repair you?"
"Well, you don't need to, gov, it's all right.
It's all in a day's work for ... Bicycle Repair Man. <Sniff!>"
"Comedy. Sudden, violent, comedy!"
"Bring the little ones unto me, and I will get
a good price for them."
"What do you say we guys go down to the beach and shoot
some clams?"
"Zere were zwei peanuts walking down ze strasse.
And one was assaulted.. peanut. Ha ha ha.."
Ant Boy calmly prepares to execute his new friend ant-style...
by PINCHING OFF HIS HEAD!
You think you got it rough?
What about your darling doggy?
Ten short years
and he's getting old and groggy.
"I'm not saying we won't get our hair mussed a bit.."
"Thank God. The police."
"I don't know what you want here, but I think you should
know that I've killed a LOT of old people in my time,
and I'm not above doing it again."
"I told them kids to keep their arms inside the ride.
Damnedest thing I ever saw."
"But Calvin is no kind and loving god! He's one of
the _old_ gods! He demands sacrifice!"
"Cerebus can destroy ANYTHING. Cerebus is the POPE."
"I'll have you all executed!"
"I think not."
"`Psychophallystisis.'"
"Eat hot death, Steve."
"I'm a LAGOMORPH, Sam! Look it up!"
"I've heard about these cult jamborees. It's an international
goon gathering. Lots of howling and drinking... Orgiastic
worship of heathen idols... Great looking chicks in diaphanous robes..."
"Do you think there's a God?"
"Well, SOMEbody's out to get me!"
"I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid."
"Flint Paper is insane. I really respect that."
"Llamas are larger than frogs."
"It's no longer a blue world, Max. Where can we go?"
"Argentina?"
"Curse you, Inspector Dim. You are too clever for us naughty people."
"It's classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
"We interviewers are more than a match for the likes of you, Two-Sheds!"
"Yes, make yourself scarce, Two-Sheds. This studio isn't big enough for
the three of us!"
"Get your own arts program, you fairy!"
"Inconceivable!"
"You use that word a lot. I don't think it means what you think it does."
"He'p me! Somebody, pleez, he'p me! I been hypmotize'!"
"Jane, you ignorant slut."
"No! That's just what they'll be expecting us to do!"
If God had wanted us to be concerned for the plight of the toads, he would
have made them cute and furry.
"The evidence before the court is
incontrovertible; there's
no need for the jury to
retire."
"Round up the usual suspects!"
"Well, it's garish, ugly, and derelicts have used it
for a toilet. The rides are dilapidated to the point
of being lethal, and could easily maim or kill innocent
little children."
"Oh, so you don't like it?"
"Don't like it? I'm CRAZY for it."
"Mr. Notlob, there's nothing wrong with you that an expensive
operation can't prolong!"
"If I could walk that way, I wouldn't need the aftershave."
"If you could have any amount of money... How much would you want?"
"All of it."
"Have you got a 27 B stroke 6?"
"Don't be stupid. Be a smarty.
Come and join the Nazi Party."
"Take me away, imperialist puppets of the great Pay-TV satanistic
corporate booger-heads!"
"I want a full scale Red Alert throughout the world. Surround EVERYONE
with EVERYTHING we got! Mobilize every fighting unit and every weapon
we can lay our hands on. I want... I want three full scale global
nuclear alerts, with every Army, Navy, and Air Force unit on ETERNAL standby!"
"Ho! Ha-ha! Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Ha! Thrust!"
A hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles
of beer. If one of those bottles should happen to
fall, it would shake the very foundations of the Universe.
-from Mauve'Bib's "The Seven Pillows of Wisdom,"
edited by the Princess Serutan
"Hey, stewardess. Run through that seatbelt demonstration
a few more times. It's unbelievably tricky!"
"Mushy mushy mushy."
"It's the Peterson kid dressed as an iguana!"
"Nice girls don't explode."
"Well, I noticed the lad with the thermonuclear device was the Chief
Constable for the area."
Pipo was born with few complications, but then the doctor accidently
dropped the infant on her head provoking her drunken father to drag
the physician outside where he would beat him to death with a live
ocelot.
"It's real handy, havin' an Elder God in the band, eh?"
"We have your favorite animal cookies. Here's
a gorilla... Here's a collared peccary..."
"A mind is a terrible thing to waste someone with."
"[The vector] has never been of the slightest use to any creature."
-Lord Kelvin
"The good thing about drawing a tiger is that it automatically
makes your picture fine art."
"Take my Worf, please."
"`BILLSBY SLASHES FOUR, DIES IN COCAINE BRAWL'"
"That's the front page, Mrs. Billsby."
"It's a dessert topping AND a floor wax!"
"It's funny, I hate the itching, but I don't mind the swelling."
"You know what I wish? I wish all the scum of the Earth had one throat
and I had my hands about it."
"...just when I had you wriggling in the crushing grip of reason, too..."
"I like overkill."
"Where do we keep all our chainsaws, mom?"
"Did you know the phone company uses the bone marrow
of Third World babies to make microchips?"
"The part I think I'd like best is crushing people who get in my way."
"Regrettable that this society has chosen suicide."
"Get that finger out of your ear! You don't know where that finger's been!"
"Mind you, I can't say much for the volume's condition.
I mean, there's a hole in the jacket and the spine appears
to be damaged."
"You have an annoying fascination for timepieces, Mr. Sulu"
"Back off, man! I'm a scientist!"
"What are your general areas of interests?"
"Aerodynamics. Designer jeans. Roofing supplies. That sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?"
"You know, liquidity. Point-of-sale. Margin accounts. Fast lane."
"In accordance with our principles of free enterprise and
healthy competition, I'm going to ask you two to fight to
the death for it."
"Why do you wear that toy on your head?"
"Because if I wear it anywhere else, it chafes."
"Are there many fires in Norway?"
"Oh Good Lord yes. The place is a constant blaze!"
"Dick! You're FIRED!"
"Storage Compartments? Storage Compartments?"
"Yes, well, that's just the sort of blinkered philistine pig-ignorance
I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage."
"What a pinhead! Does he not fear us?!"
"Sorry, Nick. I lied, man."
"The world bores you when you're cool."
"The living dead don't NEED to solve word problems."
"Mind you, not as bad as the night Archie Pettigrew ate some
sheep's testicles for a bet...God, that bloody sheep kicked him..."
"I'm doing everything I can, and stop calling me Shirley."
"Decadent rodent, we will bury you."
Dark and lonely
on a summer night.
Kill my landlord,
Kill my landlord.
Watchdog barkin'
Do he bite?
Kill my landlord,
Kill my landlord.
Senators, TV Crews, and the nation in general are mystified when,
on the third day, Flaming Carrot shows a STAR TREK BLOOPER REEL
on behalf of the defense.
Your digestive system is your body's Fun House, whereby food goes
on a long, dark, scary ride, taking all kinds of unexpected twists
and turns, being attacked by vicious secretions along the way, and
not knowing until the last minute whether it will be turned into a
useful body part or ejected into the Dark Hole by Mister Sphincter.
"LONG LIVE THE GLORIOUS COCKROACH REBELLION AGAINST THE
GREAT SUBURBAN BOURGEOIS OPPRESSOR SWINE-PIG!"
<Slam!>
"I HATE revolutionary jargon."
"You try any preversions in there, and I'll blow your head off."
He has been known by many names; the Prince of Lies,
the Director, Lucifer, Belial, and once, at a party,
some obnoxious drunk kept calling him "Dude".
"I've got to concentrate. I've got to concentrate!
..Hello?
..Echo!
..Pinch hitting for Pedro Borbon, Manny Mota!"
"I try to make everyone's day a little more surreal."
"I'm 6 foot 5, and I eat punks like you for breakfast!"
"Elvis has LEFT the building!"
"Hurl that spheroid down the field.."
"I think all right-thinking people in this country are sick and tired of
being told that ordinary, decent people are fed up in this country with being
sick and tired. I'm certainly not! But I'm sick and tired of being told
that I am!"
"Has anybody seen my legs?"
"We're taking you to a clambake."
"It's hard to get a refund when the salesman is sniffing
your crotch and baying at the moon..."
"That's the fact, Jack!"
"Kato, what is going on in that little yellow brain of yours?"
"They're not booing. They're just chanting `Dave! Dave!'"
"To me it is like a mountain.. a vast BOWL of PUS!"
"So whaddya want? Wicker?!?"
`As leader, you should never forget those who are loyal
to you. You should hold parties for them regularly
and have lots of whiskey (free) for them. That way, they
get drunk and reveal themselves as the disloyal vermin they
all are in reality.'
-- "On Governing"
"You know, once in a while it is my pleasure, and my privilege to welcome
here at the Refreshment Room some of the truly great international
artists our time. And tonight we have one such artist. Ladies and
gentlemen, someone who I've always personally admired, perhaps
more deeply, more strongly, more ... abjectly than other performer.
A man, well, more than a man, a god! A great god, whose personality
is so totally and utterly wonderful, that my feeble words of welcome
sound wretchedly and pathetically inadequate. Someone whose boots I
would gladly lick clean, until holes wore through my tongue! A man
who is so totally and utterly wonderful, that I would rather be sealed
in a pit of my own filth than dare tread on the same stage with him!
Ladies and Gentlemen, the incomparably superior human being, Harry Fink!"
"He can't come!"
"Oh oh! No more buttered scones for me, Mater,
I'm off to play the grand piano!"
"Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue!"
"There should be a psychology of feet. For do we not
make decisions with our legs, and walk about on our brains?
What do you mean, `No, not really,'?"
-from "The Notebooks of Mauve'Bib--Outtakes, Bloopers,
and Unconvincing Maxims," Edited by the Princess Serutan.
"Say, isn't that a twenty-story-high Gumby-shaped robot
approaching at about Mach 8?"
"What do you know...? So it is."
"Into the mud, Scum Queen!"
That's not funny, that's sick!
"Then you admit confirming not denying you ever said that?"
"NO!...I mean Yes! WHAT?"
"I'll put `maybe.'"
"Sometimes you just gotta say `what the heck'."
"How soon do you wish to marry my daughter?"
"Oh, right away, squire, right away! I 'aven't 'ad any for weeks!"
"Guards, beat this man brutally for daring to try to confuse me!"
"Happiness is being famous for your financial
ability to indulge in every kind of excess."
"The band is just fantastic,
That is really what I think,
Oh by the way, which one's Pink?"
"Right. Who's got a boil on his semprini then?"
"You look like a man with the minimum daily requirement of
intelligence. Where can I find a book on self-confidence?"
"Kirk may be a swaggering, overbearing, tin-plated dictator with
delusions of godhood, but he's not soft."
"Mind your manners, son! I've got a tall pointy hat!"
Birds of prey know they're cool.
"We're aimed the wrong way to be going home, Gumby."
"Home...? We're on an express elevator to HECK!"
"Koko, will there be gnomes and dwarves for Lebee to wrestle with?"
"Yes Mishu, and also trolls and mutants we may spar with!"
"Spontaneous combustion! What a stroke of luck!"
"This man is no ordinary man. This is Mr. F. G. Superman."
"Mistakes were made."
"You'd better ask yourself `Do I feel lucky?'
Well, do you, punk?"
"Are you police officers?"
"No, ma'am. We're musicians."
"And was head of Gestapo for 10 years - No! 5 years!
No! No! Nein, was not head of Gestapo at all! I make joke."
"He's not Santa Claus...He doesn't LOOK like Santa Claus!"
"Don't judge a book by its hide, kid. I let folks believe
that `fat, jolly' nonsense 'cause it makes 'em FEEL good.
So, are you tots gonna bust me out of here, or stand there
gaping like trout?"
"Hey Dad, you crossed my line of death!"
"I guess test-flying F-20 Tigersharks at Mach 3 all
day has rattled my good manners..."
We Americans live in a nation where the medical-care system is
second to none in the world, unless you count maybe 25 or 30 little
scuzzball countries like Scotland that we could vaporize in seconds
if we felt like it.
"My nipples explode with delight!"
"Vaya con dios, scumbucket."
"How does this sound..? `Stop, or I'll stand very,
very still for a surprisingly long time!'"
"One of us should bust in and confuse them while _I_
head them off around front."
"Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?"
"If you don't vote for me I'll kill you all."
"The use of unnecessary violence in the apprehension
of the Blues Brothers has been approved."
"They're an insidious bunch, your killer pianos.
Had one get loose on me back in '62. It slipped
out of the cables while we were lowering it out
of its twelfth story apartment, and crushed six
innocents in an insane bid for freedom."
"Leaving a trail of slime wherev-"
>CLICK!<
"But, will I get the chicks? I mean, in truckloads?"
"I haven't time to go chasing after him! There's violence to be done!"
"They pelted us with rocks and garbage!"
"Why are you RUNNING? Cerebus just wants to KILL you a little..."
"Max, that bathing suit you're wearing makes my flesh crawl!
And where did you get sunglasses to fit your bizarrely-spaced
eyeballs?"
"Sir, I think I wanted to express the duality of man - a kind of
Jungian thing, sir."


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.R:S
Stop and Smell the Flowers
Don't hurry, don't worry. You're only here for a short visit. So be sure and
smell the flowers.
Walter C. Hagen
There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the
future in.
Graham Greene
Art hath an enemy called Ignorance.
Ben Johnson
The older I grow the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings
wisdom.
Henry Louis Mencken
Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody.
Samuel Pepys
Every man loves what he is good at.
Thomas Shadwell
Do you wish people to think well of you? Don't speak of yourself.
Blaise Pascal
A man is as old as his arteries.
Thomas Sydenham
Nostalgia buffs should be advised that Memory Lane, just like other roads
these days, is full of potholes.
Modern Maturity
It is one thing to show a man that he is in error, and another to put him in
possesion of the truth.
John Locke
Toe: A part of the foot used to find furniture in the dark.
Rilla May
I tell you folks, all politics is applesauce.
Will Rogers
Bad news, it is said, comes in twos. Pain and suffering. Hunger and thirst.
Fear and trembling. Parts and labor.
Changing Times
The more we love our friends, the less we flatter them; it is by excusing
nothing that pure love shows itself.
Moliere
Whoever is happy will make others happy too.
Anne Frank
Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball,
the rules and realities of the game - and do it by watching some high school
or small-town teams.
Jacques Barzun
What gives life its value you can find - and lose. But never posess. This
holds good above all for "the Truth about Life."
Dag Hammarskjold
It's easy to have a balanced personality. Just forget your troubles as easily
as you do your blessings.
NRTA Journal
There must be, not a balance of power, but a community of power; not organized
rivalries, but an organized common peace.
Woodrow Wilson
Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other.
Benjamin Franklin
The happiness of society is the end of government.
John Adams
Credulity is the man's weakness but the child's strength.
Charles Lamb
I was born an American; I will live an American; I shall die an American.
Daniel Webster
One ship drives east and another drives west
Withe the selfsame winds that blow
'Tis the set of the sails and not the gales
Which tells us the way to go.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I believe that every right implies a responsibility; every opportunity, an
obligation; every possesion, a duty.
John Davison Rockefeller Jr.
Time wounds all heels.
Jane Ace
Politics has got so expensive that it takes lots of money to even get beat
with.
Will Rogers
Can success change the human mechanism so completely between one dawn and
another? Can it make one feel taller, more alive, handsomer, uncommonly
gifted and indomitably secure with the certainty that this is the way life
will always be? It can and it does!
Moss Hart
Do not attempt to follow in the footsteps of the men of old; seek what they
sought.
Matsuo Basho
Every succeeding scientific discovery makes greater nonsense of old-time
conceptions of sovereignty.
Sir Anthony Eden

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-----=====Earth's Dreamlands=====-----
(313)558-5024 {14.4} - (313)558-5517
A BBS for text file junkies
RPGNet GM File Archive Site
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Subject: Smurf Class
I realize that some of you might FLAME me BIG-TIME for posting this but I
couldn't resist.
THE SMURFS
----------
Smurfs are about 3 inches tall. Their base AC is -5 because they are so
small.
If a hit is scored then the smurf must roll under his/her dex to dodge the
blow. If a blow is scored it is devestating to the smurf causing triple
damage. Because of their size smurfs cannot use any weapons or armor.
Smurfs are magical creatures. All spells used by them are the same strength
as a normal magic user. All Smurfs are magic users and cannot be a member of
any other class.
NOTE: The Supreme Smurf (Papa Smurf) has healing abilities, however, he is
not
considered a cleric because Smurfs worship no dieties.
SPELLS
------
Smurfs may cast any spell (according to it's level) it wants 1/level/day.
Since they are magical creatures they do not need a spell book. All smurfs
are born with the ability to cast any spell, however they must train under
the Supreme Smurf (Papa Smurf) just as a normal mage would do.
RESTRICTIONS
------------
Smurfs are of good alignment, if a smerf commits an evil act he will lose
his magic ability and be cast out from the smurf society until he has
corected the damage caused by his evil act.
SPECIAL DEFENSES
----------------
Smurfs are immune to all forms of magical attacks.
OTHER
-----
Smurfs are very optimistic. They are for the most part very happy
creatures.
Someone once said that," Smurfs look at life through smurf colored glasses."
Smurfs also have the constant habit of singing the same tune over and over.
This causes any Human to have to roll under his Con. to avoid being
irratated.

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Article 20263 of rec.humor:
Path: ucdavis!ucbvax!ernie.Berkeley.EDU!tedrick
From: tedrick@ernie.Berkeley.EDU (Tom Tedrick)
Newsgroups: talk.politics.mideast,rec.humor
Subject: Re: Confess That You Are A Rabbit
Message-ID: <27327@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU>
Date: 4 Jan 89 03:57:54 GMT
Sender: usenet@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU
Lines: 26
Xref: ucdavis talk.politics.mideast:8460 rec.humor:20263
It's nice to think that we could find the rabbit as quickly
as the KGB, but really the story should go like this:
NRO satellite photos show unidentified creature with long ears.
Appears to be eating elongated orange object.
NSA reports unusually high frequency of the character string "rabbit"
in intercepted communications.
High level governmental committee appointed to study the problem
and make recommendations.
State Department tries to get allied support for a preventative
strike against attack rabbit network reported to have been
recently activated.
Delta force rumored to be hunting rabbits in Mojave Desert.
CIA tries to infiltrate agents into target area. But station
chief has cover blown by investigative reporter from
the Iranian newspaper "Hares-bullah Star and Crescent".
6th Fleet sets sail for Middle East on routine training mission,
planned months in advance.
Helicopter assault group gets lost in sandstorm, with heavy
casualties resulting. Rabbits pose with corpses, proclaim
a great victory.
Air Force jets bomb rabbit hutch, hitting nearby chicken coop
instead. Some jets lost to unknown enemy countermeasures,
chicken feathers reported near engines of downed jets.
Rabbit disappears into desert with badly scratched paw.
Decides to become a pacifist and go into pharmaceutical business.

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From werner Thu Oct 27 14:06:34 1988
Flags: 000000000001
From: funny@looking.UUCP (Funny Guy)
Subject: KW Record Article on Joke Debate
Keywords: administrivia
Date: 30 Nov 88 20:20:15 GMT
Organization: Looking Glass Software, Waterloo Ont.
The following article appears today on the *Front Page* of the Kitchener-
Waterloo Record, the major daily in the town in which I live.
It is reproduced *with* permission. (How often do you see that?)
It may not be reproduced for commercial purposes.
[ In my opinion this is a gross misrepresentation which will possibly
result in not just the downfall of rec.humor.funny, but many other
groups as well. Further comment follows. Don't reply to me, yet.]
The Kitchener-Waterloo Record
225 Fairway Rd.
Kitchener, Ont.
N2G 4E5
1-519-894-2231
Wayne MacDonald, Managing Editor
Story Byline: Luisa D'Amato
===========
Editor's note: As a matter of general policy, the Record does not
publish material judged to be racially offensive. We have made an
exception in this article because the actual jokes and comments
contained within represent the central issue and are the key
elements in aid of full reader understanding and appreciation.
By Luisa D'Amato
Record Staff
Controversial racial jokes are being sent by computer from Waterloo to
about 20,000 people world-wide, using the University of Waterloo
mathematics computer systems as part of the chain of communication.
>From California to Massachusetts to Isreal, computer users are bitterly
arguing about Brad Templeton of Waterloo adn whether he ought to be
transmitting jokes that some see as offensive and racist.
Templeton, who owns Looking Glass Software in Waterloo, is the editor
of a computer joke exchange that is part of the USENET computer network.
One recent joke depicts a black man, who is dating a gorilla and isn't
allowed to buy it a drink in a bar. He dresses, shaves and puts
makeup on the animal, which is then let into the bar and
is mistaken for an Italian woman.
Another joke describes a Jew who is murdered after he tricks a Scotsman
into buying him dinner.
Officials at UW say they are discussing what to do about the fact the
institution carries Usenet -- including the joke exchange.
Templeton said in an interview that he's edited the joke exchange without
pay, as a hobby, since August of 1987. He said only about 10 per cent
[No, I said 5%] of the jokes he sends out are racially, sexually or
otherwise offensive.
His usual practice with offensive jokes is to put them in code. Then,
the people who want to read it press a couple of keys to decode it.
He receives dozens of jokes each day from readers and sends out about
two a day. He said he doesn't judge the jokes based on their content,
but only their comic value.
"Jokes which offend some people do come through," Templeton said.
"It's my belief that it is better to have a world in which we can
laugh at the evil things that are in the world, than a world where we
must carefully consider whether or not anything can offend someone."
[I doubt my grammar was that bad.]
But others don't agree.
"This sort of thing just enhances stereotypes," said Abyd Karmali, who
graduated this year from UW with a chemical engineering degree. "It
legitimizes having these feelings and sharing them with people. That
can only be damaging."
Karmali now studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He
shares an appartment there with another student, Jonathan Richmond, one
of several people who sent messages objecting to Templeton's judgement.
After lengthy debate on this, Templeton sent a joke, in code, entitled,
"Top 10 reasons not to replace Brad as moderator."
Among the 10 reasons: "Kill six million of 'em, and the rest lose their
sense of humor. Jeez."
Asked about that line, Templeton said, "Mostly I was just making fun there.
That line was sarcasm... A lot of people wrote back to say that line was
tremendously funny.
"The idea is what you're laughing at is the absurdity of the line; the
absurdity of suggesting that killing six million Jews was something to be
taken lightly. That's why the 'Jeez' is there. And so I feel that's
definitely an example of a line where you're laughing at the racist
attitude rather than the race.
Richmond said he sees the joke as an "act of violence" which "defames
the memory" of the Holocaust victims.
"One racist joke disseminates over a network of thousands of people.
It's the promotion of an underground network of bigots," he said.
"People feel that have a different relationship with computers than with
other people," he said. "They feel that can type on to a keyboard what
they might not say to someone's face."
Meanwhile, Karmali, who was a student residence don and president of the
chemical engineering society while at UW, says his alma mater is
"acting as an accessory" in the matter.
UW gets USENET because many of the network's hundreds of different groups
offer "valuable information" on computer software, said Lyn Williams,
executive assistant to the dean of mathematics.
The university sees itself as a "common carrier" of information, with
no mandate to review information passing through its computer system,
she said.
But she said it would be possible for UW to discard the so-called
recreational services in USENET, such as the joke exchange and tips
on sports and leisure activities.
Alan George, UW vice-president academic and provost, said Tuesday that
he hasn't heard about the controversy, but "I'm certainly going to
ask a lot of questions."
"In some way, the university is facilitating this... and I think, as
such, we'll certainly look into it," he said.
"The university generally would be opposed to any ethnic or racially
offensive jokes."
About 180 people at UW regularly read the joke exchange, Templeton said.
And "no one from Waterloo that has contacted me has expressed anything
but support," said Templeton, who was a UW student in the late 1970s and
early 1980s.
Templeton said he believes the controversy arose because the joke about
the Jew and the Scotsman was transmitted close to the 50th anniversary of
Kristallnacht, Nov 9-10, 1938, when Jewish businesses were gutted and
synagogues burned in Germany.
After richmond complained, Templeton apologized for having neglected to
put the joke in code.
However, Richmond said that doesn't answer his concerns. "It's still
there... He ahs sent it out with the (descriptive) keyword, 'racist'...
He is an editor. He should not include jokes which are racially offensive.
Richmond, who is Jewish, sent a message to other computer users. He said
he worked in Watts, the black ghetto of Los Angeles, and "I have
many eyewitness accounts of the hurt caused by racial stereotyping and
by the jokes which promote it."
But many users disagreed with him. One message from Tel Aviv University
in Israel asked Richmond: "Maybe you should ask yourself why do you
take it so badly; maybe there is something wrong with your sense of
self-identity?"
Another wrote: "My ultimate goal -- to reply to Jonathan Richmond -- is
the elimination of Jonathan Richmond."
--30--
--
The rec.humor.funny fascist. (Thanks to whoever gave me that title!)
From werner Thu Oct 27 14:06:34 1988
Flags: 000000000001
From: funny@looking.UUCP (Funny Guy)
Subject: You can Reply to the K-W Record Article by electronic mail
Summary: Information on how to reply to the record article
Keywords: administrivia
Date: 30 Nov 88 22:40:44 GMT
Followup-To: news.misc
Organization: Looking Glass Software Ltd.
As you can see, Johnathan Richmond took the RHF debate to the press.
His attempt to do so caused the article you just saw, which among other
things, will put pressure on the University of Waterloo administration
to cut not just rec.humor.funny but all the non-technical groups from
this region of the net. This would include many groups Mr. Richmond
did not intend, such as soc.culture.jewish!
What the University does is of course, up to them.
If you wish to express an opinion, you can mail one, phone one, fax
one or, though a mailbox I have set up, EMAIL one. Email will of course
be easiest for you, but I suspect that the other media might be more
impressive. It's up to you. I will forward the contents of the
mailbox record@looking.UUCP to their editors. You MUST follow certain
rules if you wish your letter to be considered an official letter to the
editor, as it will not be signed.
I would ask people in K-W to use regular postal mail if they can.
PLEASE BE MODERATE IN YOUR OPINIONS, AND DO WHATEVER YOU CAN TO ENSURE
THAT THE FLAMES ARE NOT FANNED FURTHER THAN THEY HAVE TO BE ON THIS MATTER,
PARTICULARLY IN THE GENERAL PRESS. We can solve these problems by ourselves.
===================================
Title the letter "LETTER TO THE EDITOR"
Mark the letter "c/o Ross Weichel"
Make the salutation: "To the Editor:"
Keep the letter short, and to the point. And, to be honest, don't write
like most people do to the net. :-)
Sign your letter with your full name, and give your address and some
phone numbers where you can be reached. They will want to verify what
they print as authentic.
You can reply to this message, and it will go to record@looking.UUCP, not
to me. Be warned, however, that the mail you send will not be private.
(As a letter to the editor, that's not surprising.)
While I'm an honest man, I can understand if you don't wish to use this
method of mail considering my bias on the issue. I vow to retransmit
as is.
=====================================
If you wish to FAX a letter, the FAX number is: 1-519-894-3912
If you wish to telephone, the number is 1-519-894-2231. I am not sure
how phone calls are counted.
If you wish to write with regular mail, use:
The Editor
c/o Ross Weichel
Kitchener-Waterloo Record
255 Fairway Rd.
Kitchener, ON
N2G 4E5
Canada
======================================
I can't tell you what to say, or whether to support me or not.
What I want is to show them that they have seriously misrepresented
the nature of the affair, and the level of public opinion amongst those
who have seen the full context of the matter.
Don't be abusive -- be reasoned, whether for or against me.
They are a medium sized large paper, with circulation of about 90,000.
(That's actually fairly big for a daily.)
My own detailed comments will follow when I'm a tad calmer.
Don't reply to me right away, or rush to offer me a feed. I am sure
that these sort of things can be dealt with if they arise. I still
believe they will not.
***Remember, replies to this message go to record@looking.UUCP.***
PLEASE, TRY TO KEEP THINGS CALM, he shouted.
Looking talks to math.waterloo.edu (watmath) and "att", but they will
only forward from within AT&T.
--
The rec.humor.funny fascist. (Thanks to whoever gave me that title!)


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By PETER S. HAWES
BRIDGEPORT, Conn. (AP) -- For almost three years a team of comedians has
spiced up morning drive-time radio shows from Massachusetts to Guam, with a
simple philosophy: "If it has air in it, we'll let it out."
True, there are ground rules, but almost anything goes as members of the
American Comedy Network try to make their names as great American humorists.
There have been complaints from the McDonald's Corp., and listeners in the
Bible Belt still beef about a fake advertisement for a perfume called "Nympho."
However, ACN's business is irreverent comedy and it's found 128 radio
stations in the United States and Canada willing to take the heat in exchange
for the wacky group's potshots at everything.
The group was formed in 1983 by Katz Broadcasting Co. Each week, Katz sends
its affiliates a tape containing at least five 30-second to two-minute bits,
plus scripts for any interactive segments. Local deejays "drop" the bits into
their show whenever they want.
ACN keeps its humor topical and considers few instititions sacred. Its
commercial for "Greedies" cereal knocks Olympic Gold Medal gymnast Mary Lou
Retton: "Four-foot-nine Mary Lou. She's selling out the way the big boys do."
McDonald's complained to several stations about the ACN's takeoff on
commercials for its McDLT sandwiches, in which an announcer says: "If you want
to win the burger wars, you've got to rap and clap and flap your trap. ... We
make a great big deal over nothing."
Elvis Presley fans complained over a few bits they thought to be demeaning to
the late singer. One was a parody of TV record ads hawking a tape of "Elvis'
Most Intimate Moments" in which the rock 'n' roll king was heard ordering six
pizzas, jelly donuts and a peanut butter and banana sandwich.
Other commercials have hawked Slam-Dunkin Donuts ("Do you want a small one, a
medium one or Olajuwon?" -- playing on the name of the Houston Rockets'
basketball star); FasterCard ("for people who live beyond their means"); and
Krapco's Surgery City ("save money by diagnosing yourself. We'll take your
word for it").
Katz orginal idea for the company was to create timely takeoffs -- song
parodies, fake commercials and sketches -- to be used by the company's 11 radio
stations.
Katz president Dick Ferguson lured ACN president Andy Goodman and his
colleague Bob James to Bridgeport from Orlando, Fla., where the two had
collaborated on a morning show that featured taped and live humorous bits.
Dale Reeves, a New York disc jockey who had performed hundreds of voices by
telephone for Goodman and James, later joined the team along with former
actress Mechele George, who does female voices and serves as director of
marketing and sales, and David Lawrence, executive producer.
ACN's business plan, according to Goodman, was to produce national and
localized material first for one radio station and gradually add one station at
a time until it was supplying all 11 Katz outlets.
But five months after it started, one of its bits -- a parody of the American
Telephone & Telegraph Co. breakup, called "Breakin' Up Is Hard on You" and
sung to the tune of Neil Sedaka's "Breakin' Up Is Hard to Do" -- caught on at
the four Katz stations to which it was sent.
The song received tremendous airplay, and within weeks a Boston record
company had pressed it into a single that soon was heard on thousands of radio
stations. It sold nearly 200,000 copies and climbed into the Top 80 on
Billboard magazine's record chart.
"I was sitting here telling everyone not to get excited, that this is a
nonevent. It will fizzle out," Goodman said. "But we had this unwitting demo
out there and we started getting calls. We looked at our business plan and
threw it out the window."
The ACN began lining up radio stations across the country and now supplies
128 of them with at least seven short, 30-to-90-second bits a week for use
during morning shows. The team spends three hours a day writing, at least
another day producing and every Wednesday ships its material -- tapes, scripts,
a newsletter and evaluation form -- to its subscribers.
Its fees range from $1,600 to $11,900 a year based on market size. Goodman
would not reveal financial data for ACN, which is owned by Katz, a private
company.
"People don't know who we are and that's the way it's supposed to be,"
Goodman said. "We're trying to make announcers funny without stealing their
thunder."
The only rules to the ACN's humor, Goodman said, are "no space shuttle stuff,
no AIDS, no ethnic jokes, no national tragedies and no incurable diseases --
except idiocy."


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\Reagan Rap\: lyrics to "Rap Master Ronnie" by Doonesbury Break Crew.
Begin: Ok, Reagan campaign message for minority voters, take 37.
Can it off, Mr. President.
Reagan: 5.. 6.. 7.. 8.. uhh.. 9..
Reagan: Ah!
Oh yah!
Lord have mercy.
Now let me here a little base now Nancy?
So good.
So fine.
Your cooking now mama.
Nancy: Thank you dear.
Reagan: Al.
Smoken.
Were in a grove now.
Al: That's groove sir.
Reagan: Groove. We're in a groove now.
Slip me a little keyboard cap.
Al,
Your god,
Now that be fine.
Ok people, gotta get down.
Brother Ron Reagan has hit the ground.
Gotta believe he's the dude of the hour.
Got the glory, got the power.
Ronny can communicate, the cat can rap.
I even let Nancy sit on Mr.T's lap.
Love's the needy, loves them dearly.
Love to read graffitti if they'd only print it clearly.
He can break.
Men: Huh!!!
Reagan: He be trying to make the big box beat.
Trying to get those voters on there feet.
Get their consent, all I need is 10 percent.
Everyone:Say we want Ron
Reagan: The guy's pure sex.
Everyone:He's the man.
Reagan: Who signs your monthly welfare checks.
Ha! Ha!...Ha!...Ha!.Ha!.Ha!
Al: Ronny's the boss, he wears the pants.
Nancy: But that man of mine sure loves to dance.
Al: Got an open mind on civil rights.
Reagan: My youngest son grew up in tights.
Men: Check him out!
Reagan: He's heavy.
Men: Check him out!
Reagan: He's cool.
Lord have mercy on this 2nd paid fool.
Men: Ronny be a legend. Ronny be unique.
Reagan: Hard to even function with such mystique.
He gets down.
Men: Huh!!!
Reagan: Loves to take to town those dancing feet.
He be getting brothers off the street.
Hey! Least I've tried, If only more were qualified.
Everyone:Say we, want, Ron.
Reagan: The cat can swing.
Everyone:He's the man.
Reagan: Who's often seen at Burger King.
Uhh.. Ed.
Take it easy, Ed.
For Gosh sakes, Ed.
Debby Boone gave me that album personally.
Ed...
Men: Everybody's scratchin'.
Scratchin' for a wage.
Scratchabacha scratch.
From the want ad page.
Good time scratching.
Ronny got a plan.
And if that don't hatch.
Catch as catch can.
Reagan: Ok people, ease on through.
Rappin' Ron Reagan got cheese for you.
Got a big civil service that will hire your best.
And a volunteer army that will take the rest.
Men: Ronny be a fighter.
Ronny will defend.
Reagan: Lieutenant Bob Goodman is a personal friend.
Men: Ronny he be tough.
Ronny always wins.
Reagan: Dont need cardboard for my shoulder spins.
Reagan: He can freeze.
Men: Huh!!!
Reagan: He be trying to save those suckers' souls.
Trying to get those mothers to the polls.
Get their consent. I'll settle for just 2 percent.
Everyone:Say we, want, Ron.
Reagan: The cat's ok.
Everyone:He's the man.
Reagan: Who's got more juice than Jessie J.
Man: One more time Mr. President.
Everyone:We want Ron.
The cat's ok.
Man: Bring it on home, sir.
Reagan: Okay.
Light my fire black people, light my fire.
Give me your sweet jelly roll.
Turn on your love life.
Papa got a new saftey net for you.
Ya, Fritz, Jelly beans.
Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open


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ROCK RECORD RATINGS
A group of influential women in Washington, D.C., has been pressuring Congress
to enact legislation to force the recording industry to affix warning labels on
record albums so the public will know if song lyrics are nasty.
What a great idea!
How many hours have you spent in record stores sorting diligently though
thousands of albums without finding a single identifiable example of rock porn?
Wouldn't a warning label help you find just the right album so much more
quickly?
How are you going to know if a rock group espouses devil worship unless either
(a) you listen to the lyrics, or (b) see a warning label?
Warning labels on albums are an item that is long past due. The problem is
how these labels will be classified and worded...
* Warning! This album contains foul language and sexually explicit lyrics.
Give it a "7" because it's got a great beat and you can dance to it.
* Warning! The group which recorded this album has been alleged to be in the
forefront of the Jerry Falwell Fan Club. Don't buy this if your children are
communists.
* Warning! The lyrics, cover art, melodic style, band members, staff and
management of this album are drug oriented. Buy this album only if you, too,
are drug oriented.
Of course, the record industry could save itself from Congress by adopting
some kind of voluntary rating system. Here's one proAosed by an industry group:
Rating Point System
-------------------
Give one point for each lyrical word which may offend someone. Give one point
for each arrest of a group member on tour. Give one point for each time a group
member is mentioned on "Entertainment Tonight."
Examples of the 'Rating Point System':
200 points:
A Perry Como Christmas
AC/DC (first album)
Band on the Run (McCartney)
150 points:
Zappa Live!
Peter and the Wolf (soundtrack)
Speak French Like a Native
50 points
Sheena Easton Bares All
Sing Along With Mitch
The Nutcracker (soundtrack)
Oh, there are other systems of rating records, but we can't go into them now.
The evening news is on and Dan Rather will be showing videotape highlights of
all this year's air line disasters.
Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open


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DI-ETHYLENE BROMATE
-== BY ==-
*** STUD MUFFIN ***
(Shamelessly captured from the Message base of The Works BBS by his
erstwhile companion and fellow blinkie-thief,
The Mathematician)
A metachemical farce.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the sun settled into the west the six foot tall brown gekko lizard rode
up on his trusty horse (and part-time accountant), Spud. Ratspit, the
lizard (his parents didn't like him much), was looking for trouble, the
five children that he had tortured (by making them listen to Ronald
Reagan's state of the onion address) had been too noisy in their agony and
he had a headache.....
Ratspit: "God dammit Spud, why can't there be a simple 1040 tax-form?"
Spud: "I don't know I'm just a horse."
Ratspit: "Well isn't that shocking news!"
Spud: "Look Ratspit, if you don't stop complaining you'll probably get run
over by that eighteen-wheeler coming this way...
Ratspit: "I guess so, but tell me Spud, will that still be a deduction?"
Spud: "Only if you lose seven major limbs."
So ends the saga of Ratspit and Spud... Their remains will live on much
longer than their tax audit.
Did you know that you could make di-ethylene bromide out of crushed
gekko lizards???
ctrical tape (to cover the light sensor)
6: Lots of beer (at least enough to get everyone drunk)
7: Lots of people (at least 3 but the more the better)
Now that you are all prepared for phlasher phinding you need to of course
find flashers. This shouldn't be too tough, just drive around sub-divisions at
night and look for the familiar yellow flashing. Once you find one time to go
to work. Park the car about 100 feet past the flasher. At least two people
should go back to get it. Use the needlenose vise grips to get the bolt off.
(These vise grips are defCall The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open


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Article 73 of eunet.jokes:
Path: puukko!santra!tut!enea!mcvax!ukc!dcl-cs!nott-cs!jpo
From: jpo@cs.nott.ac.uk (Julian Onions)
Newsgroups: eunet.jokes
Subject: Batman up to date...
Message-ID: <717@robin.cs.nott.ac.uk>
Date: 14 Mar 88 10:07:47 GMT
Reply-To: jpo@cs.nott.ac.uk (Julian Onions)
Organization: Computer Science, Nottingham Univ., UK.
Lines: 130
Well I liked it ...
-------------------------------------------------------
Holy Time-Warp Batman
by Nick Broom (Punch)
(Wayne manor, Batman and Robin have just returned from the snooker hall)
Robin: Look, Batman! There's a message on the Fax from the
Commissioner!
Batman: What does it say?
Robin: It says, "Hi, Batman. Batgirl is being held captive at the
Gotham Rubber Company. Please hurry there. Nice one
Commissioner."
Batman: At once to the Batcave.
(Our heroes go to the Batcave below stately Wayne Manor and prepare for
theier rescue mission)
Batman: Ready? To the Batporsche, Dean!
Robin: Why do you keep calling me Dean? me name's Robin.
Batman: No one's called Robin nowadays. Dean's much more Eighties.
Robin: (Sulkily) No one's called Batman.
Batman: Don't be facetious, Dean. Look in my Filofax for the address
of the Gotham Rubber Company, and then let's make tracks.
Robin: Right, well, it's on Stallone Street, just behind the Nuthouse
Vegetarian Resteraunt.
Batman: Oh, yes, I know it well. Speaking as a vegetarian, I'd say
it's the only decent place I've found to eat out. Okay, let's
go.
Robin: But wait, you've forgotten the warning to the kids!
Batman: Oh, quickly then. (Camera closes in on Batman's face) "Boys
and Girls, I cannot do without using a condom. Don't think I
can and don't think you can. Have a nice day." Right, that's
that done. Let's hit the road.
(Batman and Dean roar out of the Batcave and head for the Gotham
Rubber Company)
Batman: How about some Batmusic, Dean?
Robin: Okay. (Sings) Na na na na ...
Batman: I mean turn on the Compact Disc player.
Robin: Sorry. (Turns on the CD) Na na na na, Batman! Na na...
Batman: That's better. You know ....
(Cellular phone rings. Dean answers. Heavy breathing on the other end
of the line)
Robin: We know it's you, Joker. Why don't you go and play your
stupid pranks some place else? (Line goes dead) That guy sure
is... Holy Catlitter! There's Catwoman breaking into that
jeweller's!
(The Batporsche screeches to a halt)
Batman: Hold it right there, Catwoman!
Catwoman: Ah, Batman. Still haven't got a proper job?
Batman: Okay, Catwoman, let's have you out of that catsuit.
Catwoman: But, Batman, you weren't like this in the Sixties. I thought
you preferred Robin.
Batman: I do, but people want more sex in 1989, and since
homosexuality is a TV audience turn-off, that leaves you.
Robin: But, Batman, we must hurry - Batgirl's in dire straits.
Batman: Oh, all right, then. Come on.
(They rush out to the Batporsche)
Robin: Oh, no, we've been clamped!
Batman: This must be the work of the Penguin. Look, there he is!
Robin: That can't be him, he's wearing Levi 501's and a designer
shirt.
Batman: Thats him all right. Stop right there Penguin!
Penguin: Hello, Batman. You recognised me after all these years, and
in my new gear. Well done.
Batman: Penguin, the wrapper may have changed but what's inside is
just as evil as before.
Penguin: Well, I must say that Raybans and a beret do more for you
than that ridiculous hood you use to wear.
Batman: Unclamp our car, Penguin.
Penguin: No way, Batman. Wait for hours like everybody else.
Batman: There's no time for that. Com on, Dean, let's run.
Robin: But Batman, it's still a long way.
Batman: Don't worry, Dean, I'm wearing my Gucci loafers. Jump on my
back and I'll carry you.
(Batman and Dean run off to the Gotham Rubber Company. When they
arrive, they try the video entry-phone, but when no one answers, they
break in.)
Robin: Holy incomprehensible! The floor's marked out into six
enormous coloured segments!
Batman: I thought as much. This is the trademark of the Trivial
Pursuiter!
Robin: The who?
Batman: The Trivial Pursuiter, none other than the Riddler of old!
T.Pursuiter: Correct, Batman. Long time no see. Hey, like the boxer
shorts, Robin.
Batman: We want Batgirl, Trivial Pursuiter.
T.Pursuiter: Not so fast, Batman. First you must answer some
questions. What do you want: Geography, Science and Nature,
Entertainment...?
Batman: Where is she?
T.Pursuiter: Ah, Geography. What is the largest lake in ...?
Batman: Cut it out, Trivial Pursuiter. What have you done with
Batgirl?
T.Pursuiter: Now you want History! Who was the tallest US president?
Robin: Abraham Lincoln.
T.Pursuiter: Good. Now what category?
Robin: Er, how about Entertainment?
Batman: Dean, wake up, he's using the questions to mesmerise you. Take
this Anti-Trivial Pursuit Batpill which I happen to have on
me!
(Dean takes the Batpill and immediately recovers)
Batman: Thats better. Right Dean, let's go and find Batgirl.
T.Pursuiter: No, you don't! (He blocks their path)
Robin: Take that, Trivial Pursuiter!
BONK!
Batman: Wait, wait, we can't have BONK! any more. It's too rude.
Robin: But I thought we needed more sex and violence in the show.
Batman: BONK! is sex and violence. We can't have both, at least not at
the same time.
Robin: Okay.
FUNK!! (Dean hits the Trivial Pursuiter, who falls, beaten)
Batman: Hey, like it, Dean! Give me five!
T.Pursuiter: very well, you win, Batman. She's through there.
(Batman and Dean go through to another room, where they find Batgirl
staring vacantly into the bubbling waters of a Jacuzzi)
Robin: She's in a trance.
Batman: Yes, the Trivial Pursuiter was gradually boring her to death
with his dull questions. I'll just give her an Anti-Trivial
Pursuit Batpill.
(Batgirl swiftly comes round)
Batgirl: Ah, Batperson., at last. What took you so long?
Batman: What's the "Batperson" thing, Batgirl?
Batgirl: Batperson, please Batperson.
Batman: You mean we're both called Batperson?
Batgirl: This is the Eighties, Batperson.
Batman: But that makes us sound equal. That's no good. You know,
things were much better in the Sixties...
(Batman drones on. Fade)
--
Julian Onions


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RONALD REAGAN
April 17, 1984
Mr. John Hinkley
St. Elizabeth's Hospital
Washington D.C. 06969
Dear John:
Nancy and I hope you are making good progress in your recovery from the
mental problem that made you try to assassinate me. The staff of St.
Elizabeth's Hospital tell me you are doing just fine and will be
released soon.
I have decided to seek a second term in office and I hope I can count
on your support and the support of your parents in my re-election
campaign.
I hold no grudge against you, John, and hope that if there is anything
you need to there at the hospital, you will let Nancy and I know.
By the way, did you know that Walter Mondale and Gary Hart have both
been fucking Jodie Foster?
Sincerely,
Ronald Reagan
RR/WiZ
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