From knodel@pattyr.acs.ohio-state.edu Sat Dec 25 20:12:49 1993 Subject: Netwit Reply-To: help@netwit.cmhnet.org To: adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | _Netwit_ Volume Five, Special Edition | |___________________________________________________________________________| | | | This is an electronic humor magazine. Its contents are designed | | to be funny. It is not for children, or for the easily offended. You | | read it at your own risk. Subscription info: help@netwit.cmhnet.org | |___________________________________________________________________________| ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission: lyn@anchor.esd.sgi.com (Lyn Dearborn) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Subject: Annual Computer Xmas Poem 'Twas the night before crisis, and all through the house, Not a program was working not even a browse. The programmers were wrung out too mindless to care, Knowing chances of cutover hadn't a prayer. The users were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of inquiries danced in their heads. When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my tube to see what was the matter. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a Super Programmer, oblivious to fear. More rapid than eagles, his programs they came, And he whistled and shouted and called them by name; On Update! On Add! On Inquiry! On Delete! On Batch Jobs! On Closing! On Functions Complete! His eyes were glazed over, his fingers were lean, From Weekends and nights in front of a screen. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread... ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission doug.barlow@datadim.com (Doug Barlow) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer ---------------------------------- (chorus) Grandma got run over by a reindeer Walking home from our house Christmas Eve You can say there's no such thing as Santa But as for me and Grandpa, we believe She'd been drinking too much eggnog And we begged her not to go But she forgot her medication As she staggered out the door into the snow When we found her Christmas morning At the scene of the attack There were hoofprints on her forehead And incriminating Claus-marks down her back (chorus) Now the goose is on the table And the pudding made of fig (ah!) And the blue and silver candles That would just have matched the hair in Grandma's wig It's not Christmas without Grandma All the family's dressed in black And we just can't help but wonder Should we open up her gifts or send them back ALL: Send them back! (chorus) Now we're all so proud of Grandpa He's been taking it so well See him in there watching football Drinking beer and playing cards with cousin Mel I've warned all our friends and neighbors Better watch out for yourselves They should never give a license To a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves (chorus) Sing it, Grandpa! (chorus) ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission tony.lima@toadhall.com (Tony Lima) | |___________________________________________________________________________| RM>Most of us have heard that song about Grandma getting run over >by the reindeer. Well..... did you know there was more to >the story? This is what happened the year before! ;) RM> GRANDMA GOT HUNG OVER DRINKIN' RAINIER RM>CHORUS: > Grandma got hung over drinkin' Rainier > she bought at 7-11 New Year's Eve. > You can say there's no such thing as a drunken stupor, > but as for me and Grandpa, we believe! RM>Verse 1 > She'd been drinking too much cold drug, > and we begged her not to chug. > She didn't save any for Grandpa! > She didn't even use a mug! RM> When we found her the next morning > at the scene of the attack. > She had paw-prints on her forehead, > and Spuds McKenzie standing on her back! RM>Verse 2 > We feel sorry for poor Grandpa. > He's acting mad as hell, > 'cause he JUST can't watch his football > without the beer that he loves oh so well. RM> It's not New Year's without the Rose Bowl, > but TV screen is black. > And he just can't help but wonder > how she ever drank that whole 12-pack! (the whole thing!?) RM>CHORUS RM>Verse 3 > He picked his keys up off the table, > and he headed out the door. > Grandpa had to have a cold one > instead of listening to Grandma snore! RM> I've warned all my friends and neighbors, > Watch your refrigerator shelves, > Even though you trust your grandma, > She might decide to drink it all herself!" RM>CHORUS RM>(Come, on Spuds) RM>CHORUS again, with dog sorta barking the lyrics in far background RM> Gotta go? Gotta go, Spuds?? Go outdoors! > > (Sound of big St. Bernard barking and fading) > (Grandpa in deep voice) Happy New Year! ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission lyn@anchor.esd.sgi.com (Lyn Dearborn) | |___________________________________________________________________________| 'Twas the evening of Hanukkah, and all through the place Excitement was mounting, hearts quickened their pace. When all of a sudden, through a window half open Zoomed a colorful figure, for whom all were hopin'. He smiled and declared, in a voice loud and steady, "It's me, Captain Hanukkah, How are you, already? I bring holiday goodies as I zip through the sky, Oy vey, Momma worries, I don't have to say why." He sighed and he shrugged, "I've had SUCH a day, I almost collided with some guy in a sleigh." He said he'd better be going, And as he took to the heights ... He yelled, "Happy Hanukkah! Have a great Feast of Lights!" ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission todd@todd.kastle.com | |___________________________________________________________________________| >From 12/14 Calvin and Hobbes: Calvin writing: Dear Santa, Every year at this time I send you a list of what I want for Christmas. And every year you callously ignore it and bring me practical things I don't want at all. What's the deal?! Are you insane?? Have you gone senile?? Can't you read?? Or are you just a vindictive, twisted elf bent on destroying little kids' dreams?!?! Hobbes: "You might want to sleep on this one." Calvin: "I know, but it felt good to write it." ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission todd@todd.kastle.com | |___________________________________________________________________________| A Politically Correct Christmas Poem 'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck... How to live in a world that's politically correct? His workers no longer would answer to "Elves", "Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves. And labor conditions at the north pole Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul. Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety, Released to the wilds by the Humane Society. And equal employment had made it quite clear That Santa had better not use just reindeer. So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid, Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid! The runners had been removed from his sleigh; The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A. And people had started to call for the cops When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops. Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened. His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened." And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows, Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation, Demanding millions in over-due compensation. So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife, Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life, Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz, Demanding from now on her title was Ms. And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion That making a choice could cause so much commotion. Nothing of leather, nothing of fur, Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her. Nothing that might be construed to pollute. Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot. Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise. Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys. Nothing that claimed to be gender specific. Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific. No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth. Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth. And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden, Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden. For they raised the hackles of those psychological Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological. No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt; Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt. Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe; And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away. So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed; He just could not figure out what to do next. He tried to be merry, tried to be gay, But you've got to be careful with that word today. His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground; Nothing fully acceptable was to be found. Something special was needed, a gift that he might Give to all without angering the left or the right. A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision, Each group of people, every religion; Every ethnicity, every hue, Everyone, everywhere...even you. So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth... "May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth." (c)Harvey Ehrlich, 1992 ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | rec.humor rudy.boghina@canrem.com (Rudy Boghina) | |___________________________________________________________________________| IS THERE A SANTA CLAUS??? As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research help from that renown scientific journal SPY magazine (January, 1990) - I am pleased to present the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus. 1) No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen. 2) There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each. 3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75-1/2 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc. This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man- made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour. 4) The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth. 5) 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force. In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's dead now. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | rec.humor moburg@hubcap.clemson.edu (Marc P. Oburg) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Dearest John: I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a delightful gift. I couldn't have been more surprised. With dearest love and affection, Agnes -------------------------------------- December 15th Dearest John: Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine, two turtle doves.... I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable. All my love, Agnes ------------------ December 16th Dear John: Oh, aren't you the extravagant one! Now I must protest. I don't deserve such generosity. Three french hens. They are just darling but I must insist.... you're just too kind. Love Agnes --------- December 17th Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really! They are beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough? You're being too romantic. Affectionately, Agnes --------------------- December 18th Dearest John: What a surprise! Today the postman delivered five golden rings. One for each finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, John, all those squawking birds were beginning to get on my nerves. All my love, Agnes ------------------ December 19th Dear John: When I opened the door there were actually six geese a-laying on my front steps. So you're back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket. PLEASE STOP! Cordially, Agnes ---------------- December 20th John: What's with you and those fucking birds???? Seven swans a-swimming. What kind of goddam joke is this? There's bird shit all over the house and they never stop the racket. I'm a nervous wreck and I can't sleep all night. IT'S NOT FUNNY.......So stop with those fucking birds. Sincerely, Agnes ---------------- December 21st OK Buster: I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with eight maids a-milking? It's not enough with all those birds and eight maids a-milking, but they had to bring their own goddam cows. There is shit all over the lawn and I can't move into my own house. Just lay off me. SMART ASS. Ag ---------------- December 22nd Hey Shithead: What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers playing. And Christ - do they play. They never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are upset are stepping all over those screeching birds. No wonder they screeh. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petetion to evict me. You'll get yours. >From Ag ---------------- December 23rd You Rotten Prick: Now there's ten ladies dancing - I don't know why I call those sluts ladies. They've been balling those nine pipers all night long. Now the cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river of shit. The commisioner of buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm sicking the police on you. One who means it, Ag -------------------- December 24th Listen Fuckhead: What's with the eleven lords a-leaping on those maids and aforementioned "ladies"? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the maids and have been commiting sodomy with the cows. All 234 of the birds are dead. They have been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you're satisfied, you rotten swine. Your sworn enemy, Miss Agnes McCallister -------------------------------------- December 25th (From the law offices Taeker, Spredar, and Baegar) Dear Sir: This is to acknowledge your latest gift of tweleve fiddlers fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McCallister. The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McCallister at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | rec.humor tdlowe01@ulkyvx.louisville.edu (Tony D. Lowe) | |___________________________________________________________________________| "Mork calling Orson. Mork calling Orson...Hello, Orson? Orson, they have this amazing festival down here, that everybody gets into, but especially the stores and shopping malls...What's that?...Oh well, it's sort of an enclosed walkway where you can go and meet your friends, and smell cookies baking and buy ice cream cones to spill on the clothes in the stores, and they're all the same in every city...I think there's an enourmous computer somewhere that spits them out and drops them in the suburbs right in the middle of a sea of automobiles that can't move, but they got in there somehow, but there's no way to get anymore in and...Oh, yes, the festival...Well, it's all about a little boy, with a drum, and he's born in a sleigh, in some straw, right next to some chestnuts roasting on an open fire...Yes, it's all very dangerous, but it's okay because he is guarded by this enourmous fat man in a read suit, named Round John Virgin and he's standing by a tree with a partridge in it, drinking something called Wassail...No, I'm not exactly sure what that is, and nobody here can tell me. "But there's a lady kneeling nearby with a light over her head, and a couple of sheep and a donkey and a camel and this really strange deer with a red electric nose. And a dog sleeping on top of his house while a crotchety old man is hoisting this crippled boy on his shoulder who is holding a turkey by the neck saying, "God bless us everyone!" Yeah, the little boy says that, not the turkey...Well, anyway, after they sing awhile, they take all these packages and wrap them up in paper, which they then take right off again and the little kids play with the paper and the older kids say "Is this all there is?" And the fathers sit in front of the picture-box and the mothers collapse on a chair. The whole festival concludes 60 days later with an observance called Visa Card Day, when everybody becomes really serious, religious, and worshipful. Millions of people open envelopes and say, "My God!" Yeah, its really a lot of fun. We aught to introduce it up there on Ork...Well, that's all for now. Nanu, nanu!" ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | rec.humor rudy.boghina@canrem.com (Rudy Boghina) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Christmas Carols ------------------ FROM JEAN-LUC PICARD (to the tune of "Let It Snow"): Oh, the vacuum outside is endless, Unforgiving, cold, and friendless, But still we must boldly go-- Make it so, make it so, make it so! FROM WILLIAM RIKER (to the tune of "Deck the Halls"): Here's a vexing Christmas riddle: (Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la) Why must I play second fiddle? (Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la) How can I impress Deanna (Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la la la) When I'm number two banana? (Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la) FROM WESLEY CRUSHER, Starfleet Cadet (to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"): I'm at Starfleet Academy, And I'd just like to say I miss the opportunity To weekly save the day-- To make things worse, I have to be In some dumb Christmas play! Yes, I'm bright, though I'm just a teenaged boy, Only a boy, And the Enterprise was my most favourite toy! FROM DATA: (to the tune of "Jingle Bells") Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way! Oh, what fun it is to ride In a one-horse open sleigh-- or so I am reliably informed; lacking a subjective and intuitively perceived referent for the term "fun," I am able only to report the phenomenon as experienced by others, whose individual perceptions somewhat colour the-- yes, sir. WORF E-MAILED two different greetings. The first appears to be to the tune of "White Christmas": I'm dreaming of a dead Pakled, Just like the one in Rec Deck Eight. They all think they've hidden, But this one didn't, And I'm using him as bait. I'm dreaming of a dead Pakled-- Their mental skills are rather lame. May your foes die sonless, in shame-- And I hope you're wishing me the same! The second is most easily sung to the tune of "The Christmas Song" ("Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire"): Phasers flashing in the depths of space, Ripping up an airtight hull; Signs of fear on your enemy's face, And life-support signs reading null! Ev'rybody knows a Romulan's a spineless foe Who lacks the Klingon will to fight! Phaser beams set his torso aglow-- He'll find it hard to breathe tonight! He knows that Worf is on his way! And soon he'll be the object of the verb "to slay"! And ev'ry slinking Rom and Pakled spy Will soon become the subject of the verb "to die"! And so I'm offering this simple threat To Roms, and all Ferengi, too: You'll be as dead as a life-form can get-- Merry Christmas to you! ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission "Scott A. Rust" | |___________________________________________________________________________| With permission- Dec 1993 Braille Forum HOW THE AMERICANS WITH DISABILITIES ACT STOLE CHRISTMAS by Paul Edwards 'Twas a while before Christmas when Santa Claus said, "Now the ADA's passed, I've a pain in my head. It used to be easy to hire the elves Who made all the toys and who stocked all the shelves. Then the time came when the Congress did say That I had to be careful about who I pay. So I went and got Rudolph to pilot my sleigh. He was racially different, so that was okay. I used to hire men elves but that had to stop. I had to let women elves into the shop. Then Buddhists and Muslims and Croats and Jews Became part of the mix from which I had to choose. And just when it seemed I had got used to all Then the ADA passed and it changed every call. Before I was forced to hire folks from all nations But now I am told to make accommodations! Who understands all that the new law demands? You must hire consultants! Put yourself in their hands! And the first thing they do with a gleam in their eyes Is to measure to see that the workplace complies With the myriad measurements needed and wanted. And then as if that didn't leave one quite daunted, They ask to see each of the jobs that I fill And express consternation at my lack of skill. `No, no,' they opine as they look at each task, `You demand for each job what you simply can't ask!' Then much to my horror, they quietly say: `Rewrite every job or you surely will pay!' Then 'round my poor workshop they frantically caper Clutching their tape measures, ogling each paper! They measure the steps and they measure the door And they mumble and grumble and total the score. Every nook and each cranny gets measured with glee! Then, with obvious joy, they report back to me! `You're not in compliance, dear Santa,' they say; `You must make many changes and starting today You must change every practice you currently use Rebuild every workshop and change who you choose. We don't say that anyone has to be fired! You can keep all the elves who you've currently hired! But choosing the next elf you need for the shop You must change every practice; this nonsense must stop! You must ask every elf-person here to apply Only orthodox questions, and, Santa Claus, try Not to ask about handicaps, that's not allowed! You must ask the same questions to all in the crowd. There is some good news; don't go into a funk You don't have to hire elves who are constantly drunk. But do not reject yonder bibulous elf If he says he's reformed, and is curing himself. Every child in the land would be properly shocked If Santa Claus found himself called to the dock. So alter your factory, change every plan And remove the impediments quick as you can! The children expect it and so does the law. And you can afford it! We noticed with awe All the toys you produce and the money you make! You will never regret all the trouble you take. Oh, by the way, Santa, we couldn't help see All your dolls are unblemished and clearly a. b. Make blind dolls and deaf dolls and crippled ones too That reflect population dispersion that's true! And Santa, we noticed with mortified shock That your toys may discriminate; jettison stock You cannot produce a toy, Santa Claus dear That talks and says things that a deaf kid can't hear. And all of those toys with a visual display Leave blind people out, so they're just not okay! The cars and the trucks that go fast when you race them Exclude all the children who simply can't chase them!'" And Santa Claus said, as he drove out of sight: "Let the parents give presents, I'm off to get tight." So the fear of the courts and that someone would sue Managed to do what the grinch couldn't do! No sleigh bells you'll hear on this Christmas Eve night Merry Christmas to all who continue the fight. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission spectre@uiuc.edu (Ian Chai) | | Larry Holder <##09@UTMARTN.BITNET> | |___________________________________________________________________________| Ok, there was this kid who showed his mom the picture he'd drawn in Sunday School. There was Joseph, and Mary with the baby Jesus on a donkey, and some rather odd spot near the group. "What's that big dot supposed to be?" inquired the mom. To which the boy faithfully repeated the Bible verse: "Take Mary, and Jesus, and flea, to Egypt." ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | rec.humor Geoffc@ozinkl.pc.my (Geoff Collins) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Case Report: Unique Case of Aerial Sleigh-Borne Present-Deliverer's Syndrome Source: North Pole Journal of Medicine, vol 1 no.1, December 1993 Author: Dr. Iman Elf, M.D. On January 2, 1993, Mr. C, an obese, white caucasian male, who appeared approximately 65 years old, but who could not accurately state his age, presented to my family practice office with complaints of generalized aches and pains, sore red eyes, depression, and general malaise. The patient's face was erythematic, and he was in mild respiratory distress, although his demeanor was jolly. He attributed these symptoms to being "not as young as I used to be, HO! HO! HO!", but thought he should have them checked out. The patient's occupation is delivering presents once a year, on December 25th, to many people worldwide. He flies in a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer, and gains access to homes via chimneys. He has performed this work for as long as he can remember. Upon examination and ascertaining Mr. C's medical history, I have discovered what I believe to be a unique and heretofore undescribed medical syndrome related to this man's occupation and lifestyle, named Aerial Sleigh- Borne Present-Deliverer's Syndrome, or ASBPDS for short. Medical History: Mr. C. admits to drinking only once a year, and only when someone puts rum in the eggnog left for him to consume during his working hours. However, I believe his bulbous nose and erythematic face may indicate long-term ethanol abuse. He has smoked pipe tobacco for many years, although workplace regulations at the North Pole have forced him to cut back to one or two pipes per day for the last 5 years. He has had no major illnesses or surgeries in the past. He has no known allergies. Travel history is extensive, as he visits nearly every location in the world annually. He has had all his immunizations, including all available vaccines for tropical diseases. He does little exercise and eats large meals with high sugar and cholesterol levels, and a high percentage of calories derived from fat (he subsists all year on food he collects on Dec. 25, which consists mainly of eggnog, Cola drinks, and cookies). Family history was unavailable, as the patient could not name any relatives. Physical Examination and Review of Systems, With Social/Occupational Correlates: The patient wears corrective lenses, and has 20/80 vision. His conjunctivae were hyperalgesic and erythematous, and Fluorescein staining revealed numerous randomly occurring corneal abrasions. This appears to be caused by dust, debris, and other particles which strike his eyes at high velocity during his flights. He has headaches nearly every day, usually starting half way through the day, and worsened by stress. He had extensive ecchymoses, abrasions, lacerations, and first-degree burns on his head, arms, legs, and back, which I believe to be caused mainly by trauma experienced during repeated chimney descents and falls from his sleigh. Collisions with birds during his flight, gunshot wounds (delivered by homeowners mistaking him for a burglar) and bites consistent with reindeer teeth may also have contributed to these wounds. Patches of leukoderma and anesthesia on his nose, cheeks, penis, and distal digits are consistent with frostbite caused by periods of hypothermia during high-altitude flights. He had a blood pressure of 150/95, a heart rate of 90 beats/minute, and a respiratory rate of 40. He has had shortness of breath for several years, which worsens during exertion. He has no evidence of acute cardiac or pulmonary failure, but it was my opinion that he is quite unfit due to his mainly sedentary lifestyle and poor eating habits which, along with his stress, smoking, and male gender, place him at high risk for coronary heart disease, myocardial infarction, emphysema and other problems. Blood tests subsequently revealed higher than normal CO levels, which I attribute to smoke inhalation during chimney descent into non-extinguished fireplaces. He has experienced chronic back pain for several years. A neurological examination was consistent with a mild herniation of his L4-L5 or L5-S1 disk, which probably resulted from carrying a heavy sack of toys, enduring bumpy sleigh rides, and his jarring feet-first falls to the bottom of chimneys. Mr. C. had a swollen left scrotum, which, upon biopsy, was diagnosed as scrotal cancer, the likely etiology being the soot from chimneys. Psychiatric Examination and Social/Occupational Correlates: Mr. C's depression has been chronic for several years. I do not believe it to be organic in nature--rather, he has a number of unresolved issues in his personal and professional life which cause him distress. He exhibits long-term amnesia, and cannot recall any events more than 5 years ago. This may be due to a repressed psychological trauma he experienced, head trauma, or, more likely, the mythical nature of his existence. Although the patient has a jolly demeanor, he expresses profound unhappiness. He reports anger at not receiving royalties for the widespread commercial use of his likeness and name. Although he reports satisfaction with the sex he has with his wife, I sense he may feel erotic impulses when children sit on his lap, and I worry he may have pedophillic tendencies. This could be the subconscious reason he employs only vertically-challenged workers ("elfs"), but I believe his hiring practices are more likely a reaction formation due to body-image problems stemming from his obesity. The patient feels annoyed and worried when he is told many people do not believe he exists, and I feel this may develop into a serious identity crisis if not dealt with. He reports great stress over having to choose which gifts to give to children, and a feeling of guilt and inadequacy over the decisions he makes as to which children are "naughty" and "nice". Because he experiences total darkness lasting many months during winter at the North Pole, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) may be a contributor to his depression. Treatment and Counselling: All Mr. C's wounds were cleaned and dressed, and he was prescribed an antibiotic ointment for his eyes. A referral to a physiotherapist was made to ameliorate his disk problem. On February 9, a bilateral orchidectomy was performed, and no further cancer has been detected as of this writing. He was counselled to wash soot from his body regularly, to avoid lit-fire chimney descents where practicable, and to consider switching to a closed-sleigh, heated, pressurized sleigh. He refused suggestions to add a helmet and protective accessories to his uniform. He was put on a high-fibre, low cholesterol diet, and advised to reduce his smoking and drinking. He has shown success with these lifestyle changes so far, although it remains to be seen whether he will be able to resist the treats left out for him next Christmas. He visits a psychiatrist weekly, and reports doing "Not too bad, HO! HO! HO!". Conclusions: Physicians, when presented with aerial sleigh-borne present- deliverers exhibiting more than a few of these symptoms, should seriously consider ASBPDS as their differential diagnosis. I encourage other physicians with access to patients working in allied professions (e.g. Nightly Teeth-Purchasers or Annual Candied Egg Providers) to investigate whether analogous anatomical/ physiological/ psychological syndromes exist. The happiness of children everywhere depend on effective management of these syndromes. -- Kevin Speight ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | rec.humor.funny ron@devnull.mpd.tandem.com (Ron Boerger) | |___________________________________________________________________________| I was musing on similarities between Santa Claus and system administrators. Consider: 1. Santa is bearded, corpulent, and dresses funny. 2. When you ask Santa for something, the odds of receiving what you wanted are infinitesimal. 3. Santa seldom answers your mail. 4. When you ask Santa where he gets all the stuff he's got, he says, "Elves make it for me." 5. Santa doesn't care about your deadlines. 6. Your parents ascribed supernatural powers to Santa, but did all the work themselves. 7. Nobody knows who Santa has to answer to for his actions. 8. Santa laughs entirely too much. 9. Santa thinks nothing of breaking into your $HOME. 10. Only a lunatic says bad things about Santa in his presence. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission BRIAN HOBBS | |___________________________________________________________________________| To the tune of "Chestnuts" Chipmunks roasting on a forest fire Jack rabbits bounding on there toes Funeral dirges being sung by a pyre and folks dressed up in asbestos Everybody knows that matches and some gasoline helped to make the forest bright Tiny creatures with their fur all aglow will find it hard to sleep tonight They know that arson was the way that someone went and had a little fun today And every mother bird is gonna cry to see her little-baby-eggs begin to fry And so were offering this word of praise to arsonists from one to ninety-two We know it's been done (yeah - and rather well done) we'd say Merry Crispness Merry Crispness Merry Crispness.... to you ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission cestep@panix.com (Chris Estep) | |___________________________________________________________________________| On the 12th day of Christmas my vendor gave to me 12 days to set up 11 acronyms 10 more megahertz 9 brand new standards 8 more megs of RAM 7 minor upgrades 6 hidden features 5 tons of docs 4 new API's 3 more months of waiting 2 more SCSI drives And a bug fix for Windows NT. (c) 1993 The Bill Gates of Inferno Society ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Submission DAVID SEGALL | |___________________________________________________________________________| Christmas cake recipe: For this Christmas cake, you will need the following ingredients: 1 cup of butter 4 large eggs 1 teaspoon of baking powder 1 cup of brown sugar 1 cup of nuts 1 cup of flour 1 cup of dried fruit 1 teaspoon of salt lemon juice 1 bottle of whisky Method: 1) Sample the whisky to check for quality. 2) Take a large bowl. Check the whisky again to be sure it is of the highest quality. Pour one level cup and drink. 3) Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon sugar and beat again. 4) Make sure the whisky is still OK. Cry another tup. 5) Turn off the mixer. Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. 6) Mix on the turner. If the fruit gets stuck in the beaters, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Check the whisky again for tonsisticity. 7) Next, sift to sups of colt, or something. Who cares? Check the whisky. 8) Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. 9) Add one babblespoon of brown sugar or whatever colour you can find. 10) Mix well. Grease the oven. Turn the cake-pan to 350 degrees. 11) Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window, check the whisky again and go to bed. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | _Netwit_ is protected by intellectual copyright. It is yours to do | | with as you please, provided that it is not used for profit, and that | | any accreditation is preserved. Comments to: knodel@netwit.cmhnet.org | |___________________________________________________________________________| ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| From: yxk9@po.CWRU.Edu (Yury Khidekel) HISTORY OF SANTA CLAUS: THE UNTOLD STORY 1689--Spanish-German explorer Santa Claus discovers the North Pole, and establishes a small base camp. 1691--Because of harsh and meager living conditions, Claus' crew abandons him. 1692--Claus is rescued by the Viking ship Hvorfor. He returns to Europe, bringing some items along with him from the North Pole. He finds he is able to sell them quite easily, making a small profit. 1703--Claus saves up enough money to buy a small ship and crew, and returns to the North Pole. Upon arriving, he finds his base camp, half-buried but still intact. 1704--Claus returns to Europe with a shipload of North Pole artifacts, and is successful in selling them. He makes enough profit to increase his crew, and buys building materials to expand his polar base. 1705--Claus returns again to the North Pole, and builds quarters for him and his crew, and sets up the Polar Exports Company. 1716--After six shiploads of exports, the European market is flooded with polar artifacts, as well as the phony ones making charlatans rich. Seeing this decline, Claus decides to invest his money by starting a toy company in his native Germany. 1720--Claus Toys becomes the largest toy company in Germany, but only because of Claus' underhanded business dealings. (It was also rumored that Claus was dealing with enemy countries as well). Competitors urged government officials to begin an investigation. 1721--Enough evidence is found, and charges are drawn up against the Claus Toys Company. Claus himself refuses to release his records. 1722--The German Supreme Court finds Claus guilty of tax evasion and of treason. When news of this breaks, Claus' employees all turn against him and his company. 1723--Claus is exiled to Sicily, and shortly before leaving, he absconds with all of the company's funds. 1724--A search party is sent to the Mediterranean to recover the funds, however, Claus hears of this ahead of time, and he and his Sicilian wife flee for their lives. (Some say he went into Northern Africa, but it is generally assumed that this was only a ruse to lure the searchers off course. He is believed to have returned to his North Pole base). 1725--Claus II is born en route to the North Pole. 1725-1734--The Claus' lay low at the North Pole. Claus teaches his son the arts of toymaking and business dealings. 1735--Rumor has it that Claus has hired Scandinavian builders to construct a castle for him at the North Pole, making use of almost half of the company funds. 1739--The castle is finished, and is one of the largest in the world. Claus II reaches his fifteenth birthday, and in the same year, Claus' wife dies, accidentally falling from a balcony in one of the castle's great halls. 1740--Claus, mourning his wife, becomes increasingly ill. 1745--Santa Claus II becomes of age, and begins taking care of the castle and of his sick father. 1747--Using the remaining company funds, Claus II builds a small city around the castle to attract workers and craftsmen. 1748--Word of the North Pole settlement reaches Europe. The Elves of Eastern Europe, quickly becoming political outcasts and striving for a better life, begin immigrating in waves to the North Pole. 1753--All the elves have left Eastern Europe and have become firmly established at the North Pole. Claus II begins his father's toy company once again, with an estimated 30,000 elves employed. Claus I dies, at age 89. 1755--The North Pole officially becomes a nation, and Claus II and his wife take the throne. The toy business continues to flourish, and the elves enjoy prosperity. Claus III is born. 1757--The great stables are built, and scientists are secretly hired by Claus II to begin an ambitious project--that of breeding and training reindeer to fly. 1773--The flying reindeer are achieved and become Claus II and III's major form of transportation. 1774--A mutant reindeer, named Rudolf, is born whose nose emits light. He becomes an outcast of the reindeer society, and is taken in by the Claus government. Claus II celebrates his 50th birthday, inviting several other world leaders for a stay at his castle. To impress them, he displays a lavish show of wealth, all at the elves' expense. He gives the other leaders the impression of a dictatorship under the guise of royalty. The elves sense this, and the seeds of rebellion are planted. 1777--As conditions become increasingly strict, the elves begin to search for a leader to lead their revolt. Rudolf, still in favor of the Claus government, sees their plight and begins thinking of ways to use it to his advantage. 1784--On his 60th birthday, Claus II takes a sleigh ride down main street during the Christmas day parade, and is assasinated by a radical faction of elves. Claus III, now 29, takes over immediately and puts martial law into effect for the whole North Pole. Civil war breaks out as Rudolf leads the Elves in rebellion. 1785-1792--The Seven-year Strike takes place. The elves refuse to make toys, and the Claus Toy Company nearly goes bankrupt, as the North Pole hits an economic low. Claus III, fearing for his life, becomes a prisoner of his own castle. Rudolf rises to the peak of his power, and sets himself as leader of the elven community. 1796--Rudolf and his army unsuccessfully attempt to invade Norway. Over 10,000 elves are killed. 1800--Inside the castle, unbeknownst to the elves, Claus IV is born. 1802--After a string of political blunders, Rudolf senses that he is quickly losing favor with the elves. Frosty the Snowman is built, brought to life, and used as a political scapegoat. 1804--Frosty the Snowman is melted at a public execution, and the elves are calmed of their unrest, for the moment. 1819-1826--After a long period of unrest, Rudolf is finally ousted, and Claus III, aged 71, rightfully regains the throne. Prince Claus IV is introduced to the elves publicly for the first time. 1827-1841--The Renormalization years. Claus III brings the near-bankrupt Claus Toys Company out of dormancy and appoints his son as president. In order to clear their bad name and make up for their out-of-the-way location, they decide to start the hugest advertising campaign ever. Each Christmas, Claus IV will ride all over the world, distributing free toys to children everywhere. The ad campaign becomes a hit, but remains very costly. 1837--Claus III dies. 1851--As the annual ad campaign continues, deficits pile up, and the elves are asked to work harder, longer hours and still take a pay cut. They start to complain, but Claus assures them he will do all he can to help them. As a sign of goodwill, Claus IV marries an Elven wife, strengthening the bonds between the Claus family and the Elves. 1856--Claus V is born. In order to celebrate, Claus IV decides to stay at home, and so he suggests that department stores use costumed employees to represent him. They do, and it works out so well that he decides to do it every year. 1857-1867--Claus V grows up, spending most of his time visiting with his elf relatives and friends. Claus IV, who spends most of his time building up the company, doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he feels that it's good publicity. 1871--Working conditions continue to worsen for the elves, and they try to convince Claus V to overthrow his father and give the government back to the elves. 1872--Claus V usurps his father's throne, sending him to live the remainder of his life under guard in the castle's west wing. 1875--After reading the works of Karl Marx, Claus V chooses communism as the new form of government for the North Pole. Some elves protest this, but they are successfully quieted. (It is also because of communism that Santa Claus' suit later changes from beige to red.) 1881--Claus IV dies in captivity, just as the new Government gets underway. His funeral is not a large one. 1887--In order to keep up with growing populations, Claus Toys becomes industrialized. The elves learn the ways of mass production on the assembly line. 1893--Another mutant reindeer is born, and is named Rudolf II in honor of the first one, whom the communist government now honors for "giving the government back to the elves." 1900--Sigmund Freud's "The Interpretation of Dreams" is published. 1902--After he had been presumed dead for years, Frosty the Snowman is claimed to have been sighted on several occasions. All throughout the kingdom, children claim that they all heard him say he'd be back again some day. 1906--Claus VI is born. The Claus family celebrates, but the elves aren't the least bit excited. 1909-1922--The toys distributed yearly begin to show signs of propaganda influence. Frosty the Snowman continues to appear occasionally, and Claus V begins to grow uneasy, fearing some sort of hidden sabotage. 1925--Claus V dies, under mysterious circumstances. He is found buried in the snow in the castle garden, frozen solid. Many think it is the work of Frosty, but no one can prove it. 1926--Claus VI takes over, and immediately tightens up security. He rules with an iron hand, but a fair one. Electric lights are installed in the streets, and the castle and the town gets electricity. The factories are expanded, and the toys continue to be used as propaganda for the world. 1929--Angered by Claus' commercialization of Christmas, the Grinch attempts to remove the material goods to show the true meaning of Christmas. He fails, and later Claus commissions a cartoon, which warps the story so that the Grinch is made out to be the villian. 1949--Claus VII is born. 1979--Claus VI dies of natural causes. 1933-1990--The North Pole remains stable, with everything running smoothly. Across the Western world, a pattern starts to emerge and become noticed. Children receive Claus' toys each Christmas, but as they grow older, their parents throw them awayforhe children to th anden they tell theirildrenat te io Sa Claus. ater whene cdren have children of th own,ey'surprised to see the toyominnce again, t nottil s too late do they sehe tlropaganda involved, and so the cycle goes on. 1991--First sightings of Anti-Claus. 1993--Anti-Claus is observed closely with telescopes, and photographed. His suit is like that of Santa Claus, but with the reds and whites reversed. He carries a 3-ply Hefty bag full of gifts no one wants or needs. And instead of using reindeer and a sleigh, he rides in a bathtub pulled by eight flying cows. 1997--Anti-Claus is radar tracked and found to live in an underground hideout run by dwarves at the South Pole. 2002--Communism fails utterly at the North Pole due to the nature of the elves. Claus VII, flying clockwise around the earth making the Christmas rounds, collides with Anti-Claus, who was flying counterclockwise. A huge explosion and blinding flash of light occurs, leading scientists to believe that they annihilated each other. 2007--The North Pole becomes a democracy, run wholly by the elves. Christmas is no longer commercialized or exploited. Happiness is finally achieved throughout the kingdom. 2011--It is discovered that Claus VII did not die in the explosion, but merely made it appear so. From there he went to live in the Bahamas. He is later found, dead of a heart attack, in a jacuzzi with two and a half dozen nymphets. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| The following comes from the files of Greg Grainger. 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' as written by a technical writer for a firm that does government contracting... 'Twas The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof. Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless. Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn." ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Who remembers "The Great White North 12 Days of Christmas" song? 12 Welcome to day 12, (rest skipped) 8 Comic Books 7 Packs of Smokes 6 Packs of Two-ports (I don't know what this references??) 5 Golden Tooks 4 Pounds of Back bacon 3 French Toasts 2 Turtle Necks A Beer ("in a tree" is sang in some verses) ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| Rodney the Texan Cockroach (Sung to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer) Rodney the Texan Cockroach He was really big and wide And if you turned the lights on He would surely run and hide. All of the other Texan's Surely tried to give him h*ll they would all try to swat him or check him into Roach Motel Then one foggy Christmas eve Rudoph got run o'er And Rodney with his wings so right got to fly the sleigh that night Now everybody loves him even though he spreads disease Rodney the Texan Cockroach you'll go down in history! ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| RUDOLPH THE ARMADILLO *** not recommended for younger audiences *** (sung to "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" by Gene Autrey" Rudolph the Armadillo had a thick and armored hide. And if you ever shot it, bullets would bounce far and wide. All of God's other critters never cut him any slack. "What good's an armadillo, 'cept to block a mass attack!" Then in a southern parking lot, Santa's deer were shot! So he asked Rudolph to save the day... "Could you and your friends help pull my sleigh?" Now Santa's team is armored; safe from gang and lunatic. Rudolf the armadillo, guards Santa from folks quite sick. ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| better !pout !cry better watchout lpr why santa claus town cat /etc/passwd >list ncheck list ncheck list cat list | grep naughty >nogiftlist cat list | grep nice >giftlist santa claus town who | grep sleeping who | grep awake who | egrep 'bad|good' for (goodness sake) { be good } ___________________________________________________________________________ | | | Other stuff collected Adam Rifkin (adam@vlsi.cs.caltech.edu) | |___________________________________________________________________________| #include #define O (b=b?b-1:(p++,5),*p&1<+@{=#_P0-]PV.]F>TM!YK'?? |T\"Z8}aE<&D-!:-T'\"\ O<~cG5$,<2'#;/UI.0{d^HV6817-2F95-T7X|c^/1XB]*)3WHG0/0}dN>G RMZB.12.P] ~hM^J\\[\ <29A6|e&9V;E[Q:,S1.P] }eES.$Z):B.*O+$G_ ~fWU8)75?I#\ 75?WHN0{jE=] {%^-8_P}%N>FO(}'M^JQ=z&U!:O(J{%&9G4|%ERO(~(WU8)G4{'E=]^G4",b=n;*p++ <122||--b;);c= *p;while(--c>31&&c!=79)putchar(44+(o?o?o?-34:68:O?60:74:O?64:o?o? 2:54:O?23:63:77:O?55:o?76:15:35:-12:o?61:O?56:65:O?66:53:o?o?O?75:58:0:70:57:o? 71:o?73:1:67:O?72:59));c>32?e(n-1):0;}main(){while(++j<15)e(1),e(13+j),e(15),e( j-(j<4));} From jotten@mrj.com Tue Dec 6 14:55:36 1994 Subject: How the Gingrinch Stole Congress! [Forwards Removed] How the Gingrinch Stole Congress! by Kris Rabberman & Scott Prevost Every Who Down in Whoville Liked Elections a lot . . . But Newt Gingrinch, Who lived on Mount Gridlock, Did NOT! The Gingrinch loathed voting, the whole campaign season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all, May have been that his brain was two sizes too small. But whatever the reason, His brain or his shoes, He stood there Election Eve , hating the Whos, Staring down from Mount Gridlock with a Gingrinchy frown, At the candidates stumping below in their town. For he knew every Who who was thinking that night, Would cast their votes wisely--against the far right. ``And they're worried about issues!'' he snarled with a sneer, ``Tomorrow's the election! It's practically here!'' And the gears in his head began frantically spinning, ``I MUST find a way to keep liberals from winning!'' For tomorrow, he knew all the Whos in the know, Would vote for the DemoWhos all in a row, For Wofford and Foley, Feinstein and Cuomo. Then the DemoWho Congress would do what he'd hate, Come up with new programs, and then legislate! Healthcare and gun bans they'd gladly create, But such progress the Gingrinch would only berate. And THEN they'd do something He liked least of all! Every DemoWho in Congress, the tall and the small, Would stand close together, and say with one voice, ``We're for women's rights and we're also pro-choice!'' They'd work! And they'd work! AND they'd WORK! WORK! WORK! WORK! And the more that the Gingrinch thought, with a smirk, The more that he thought, ``I must STOP their hard work! ``Why since Who-sevelt's years I've put up with it now! ``I MUST stop the liberals from winning! . . . But HOW?'' Then he got an idea! An AWFUL idea! The Newt got a HORRIBLE, AWFUL idea! ``I know just what to do!'' Gingrinch laughed in his throat. ``I'll make empty vows in return for their vote.'' And he chuckled, and clucked, ``I've got a great con. ``With these lies we'll pay homage to President Ron!'' ``All I need is a gimmick . . .'' The Newt looked around. But since ideas are scarce, there were none to be found. Did that stop the old Gingrinch From finding a scheme . . . ? Of course not, he had the Whopublican team. So he called Mr. Dole, and he eagerly said, ``I need to make use of your sly, sneaky head.'' Then they made up a plan, That was terribly Dole-y, To unseat the speaker, Congressman Foley. And they wrote up a contract. They did it that day, And they chortled and laughed, ``All the liberals must pay.'' As the Gingrinch and Dole formulated their schemes, Based on trickle down theories and far right extremes, The DemoWhos, calmly, were dreaming their dreams. First Gingrinch and Dole, with a gleam in their eyes, About Clinton's record, told many lies. Then they told of the programs they'd gleefully pinch, Who better to do this than Mr. Gingrinch? They got stuck only once, on the issue of ketchup, So they got on the phone and they called Orrin Hatch up. Then both of them sunk to a terrible low. ``Entitlements,'' they grinned, ``are the first things to go!'' Then they slithered and slunk, with smiles most unpleasant, Obnoxiously trashing the left, past and present! ``With Huffington, Romney, North and Santorum, ``We're sure that the left cannot help but deplore 'em!'' ``With ads so misleading they're practically criminal, ``We'll use our PAC money for commercials subliminal!'' ``We'll bombard them with TV, and a racist disc-jockey! ``Who supports Chuck Haytaian and dark-horse Pataki. ``We'll support Ollie North, and Dewine over Hyatt, ``And with all of his cash, we'll have Huffington buy it!'' ``When we win, we'll control each and every committee, ``To be sure funds are sent to nary a city! ``And Alfonse D'amato,'' (the dork from New York), ``can continue to rant about Bill Clinton's pork!'' ``Against Feinstein and Boxer's ardent protesting, ``Senator Packwood can keep on molesting!'' ``By the twisted up logic of Jesse and Strom, ``With gays in the army, we lost Vietnam!'' ``A lineup like this is Clinton's worst fear,'' said Gingrinch to Dole, with a dastardly sneer. ``Taxes, the wealthy should not have to pay,'' the maniacal duo was eager to say. ``And when Congress is ours, we'll have prayer in the schools,'' Muttered Dole to the Newt, ``Disregard liberal fools!'' The plan was enacted, The ballots were cast, The sham made the voters return to the past. The Gingrinch was gleeful, and Dole started gloating, before all the Whos had completed their voting. ``We now have a mandate!'' they said with a laugh, Even though, of the votes, they received only half. With snickering Newt in the role of the Speaker, The prospects for changes have never been bleaker. ``The plans that we've outlined, we won't be revising,'' said Gingrinch, ``We simply ABHOR compromising!'' ____________________________________________ The day of this scary Whopublican showing, We started to notice Newt's head slowly growing, Though now we can say, as you may have inferred, His brain starting SHRINKING that day, so we've heard. Though the Whos may be worried and shaking in fear, >From the dastardly changes that soon may be here, The way Whos can solve this is really a cinch, In '96 vote against cynic Gingrinch! DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed here are not necessarily the opinions of Dr. Seuss, or those with an interest in his estate, or anyone related to him, or anyone he met only once on a crowded train traveling from New York to Chicago, or his former next-door-neighbor's dog Max. Some stanzas of the preceding work were directly stolen from Dr. Seuss' classic work, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," without the permission, expressed or implied, of Theodor or Audrey Geisel, or Random House, Inc. This work was created solely for the amusement of the authors and should not be copied, distributed or otherwise duplicated by any means (electronic or telepathic included) without the expressed written consent of whoever owns the copyright to the book the authors plagiarized to create this masterpiece. Any evidence to the contrary should be construed as purely accidental and not the intent of the authors (who, by the way, receive no monetary benefit for having written the poem, but had to pay an overpriced lawyer for this disclaimer) . The authors accept no responsibility for any nightmares or other psychological problems caused by reading this work to liberals already suffering from Post Election Stress Disorder. ----- End forwarded message From rifkin@cco.caltech.edu Sun Dec 18 23:55:09 1994 Subject: Oh my. X-Newsreader: NN version 6.5.0 #12 (NOV) >Newsgroups: alt.fan.newt-gingrich,alt.society.generation-x,alt.politics,alt.philosophy.objectivism,misc.politics,alt.politics.clinton,alt.politics.usa.republican >Path: nntp-server.caltech.edu!netline-fddi.jpl.nasa.gov!hudson.lm.com!news.pop.psu.edu!news.cac.psu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!spool.mu.edu!bloom-beacon.mit.edu!world!decwrl!netcomsv!netcom.com!byoder >From: byoder@netcom.com (Brian K. Yoder) >Subject: Santa is a Capitalist Exploiter! Long Live Santa! >Message-ID: >Organization: Netcom Online Communications Services (408-241-9760 login: guest) >Date: Thu, 15 Dec 1994 10:10:54 GMT >Lines: 323 >Xref: nntp-server.caltech.edu alt.politics.usa.newt-gingrich:1962 alt.society.generation-x:65057 alt.philosophy.objectivism:26489 alt.politics.clinton:123097 alt.politics.usa.republican:28681 An Old-Fashioned Christmas (Washington Style) (c) 1994, Brian K. Yoder Bill Clinton eased into the big leather chair behind the desk in the oval office and smiled to himself. It seemed that nobody thought he was "presidential" enough to suit their tastes, but alone in this chair he could feel a moment of confidence. "At least I look like the President." he said to himself with a smug grin, "How could they say I don't?". Bill lazily spun the chair around to the window overlooking the snow-covered twilight of the Whitehouse lawn and the national Christmas tree. Amid the twinkling lights from outside, he could see his own reflection in the glass. By habit he began running through his set of facial expressions, watching closely for flaws in each pose, stern...hopeful...angry...compassionate...amused...grateful. He slouched a little in his chair and a crooked grin crossed his face. "If there's any time of the year people are willing to forgive others for being human, it's Christmas." he thought to himself, "With all that goodwill out there, a little of it will have to rub off on me, after all, I'm the closest thing to Santa Claus there is...and everyone loves Santa." Bill winced sharply as he heard the click of a door knob and a plaintive sigh behind him. The first lady stormed across the office and he reluctantly turned to face her. "Loafing again, eh Bill?" she asked. "Why aren't you doing anything useful?" "I was just practicing being presidential, isn't that useful?" he asked. "You weren't practicing, you were just gloating over having your own 40-foot Christmas tree. When will you grow up and start taking some responsibility for things around here?" she asked sharply. Without pausing for him to answer she went on. "You know, that's the perfect example of what's wrong with Christmas. Here you have a great job, a loving family, a country full of people who adore you," Bill opened his mouth to speak but was cut off, "and what do you pay attention to? A big electric Christmas tree. Where are your family values Bill? I really want to know. Or have you forgotten everything we discussed in our last meeting?". Bill slouched lower into his chair. He didn't feel very presidential anymore. Hillary produced a copy of the Washington Post from the bundle of folders under her arm. "Just look at this,", she said as she tossed the open newspaper onto the desk, "notice anything peculiar here?". Bill chuckled nervously as he examined the newspaper, "The elves on page three aren't anatomically correct?" She glared at him impatiently. "No, of course not. Look at how many ads there are here for candy, gifts, toys, and decorations. How can they devote all those valuable column inches to such crude commercialism and not once mention the crippled children who are suffering tonight? How could they not mention the homeless people we are sheltering? I know what they are trying to do. They are trying to destroy all that is worthwhile in Christmas and leave us with nothing but crude pleasure, food, travel, gifts and money. Why don't you get rid of all that unimportant stuff Bill? Aren't you always telling people that you are in charge around here? We could have a REAL Christmas this year, just like the old-fashioned ones the pilgrims used to have. Wouldn't that be nice?" Bill looked a little confused. "Does this mean that Chelsea and I are not getting any presents again this year honey?" "What a selfish little child you are. That's all you care about, presents, feasting, and your own daughter. Can't you think just a little about other people and their feelings?" Without waiting for an answer she turned and walked toward the door. Bill muttered to himself, "Well, at least I can count on Santa for a gift or two." Hillary stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly and deliberately she turned to face Bill. "WHO?" she shrieked. Bill slipped even lower into the big chair. "Santa Claus" he said meekly, "Isn't Santa still OK?". A calm look fell across Hillary's face as she began to lecture and pace like a college professor in front of an auditorium full of freshmen, "On the contrary, Santa Claus is the embodiment of everything that is wrong with Christmas and with this country. He's downright un-American. Do people like him because he helps the elderly? Because he feeds the poor? Certainly not. They just want those material objects he tosses at them from that extravagant sleigh of his. How crude. How vicious. There ought to be a law." "A law against Santa? But sweetie..." he whined. Hillary cut him off with a sharp look and she continued barely missing a beat. "That's what we need, a law. Something that will put Christmas back the way it used to be." She tossed a pen on the desk and gestured for him to begin writing. She cleared her throat and began to dictate, "The Christmas Restoration Act of 1994, by William Jefferson Clinton". As he rummaged through his disorganized desk drawers for a pad of paper, Bill put on his best "hopeful" face and asked "Does this mean we believe in Santa Claus this year?" "Of course we do, she snapped. Who do you think it has been filling your stockings with coal and switches since you were ten? It certainly wasn't me or Jennifer Flowers, I can tell you that. Now start writing." "Whereas Santa Claus has been found to engage in illicit commercial activities in the United States, and whereas he has flaunted the important laws of our nation endangering the health and economic well being of our citizens, and whereas this clearly constitutes the operation of an ongoing criminal enterprise, it is hereby resolved that federal officers should immediately seize the property of Mr. Claus and bring a temporary halt to his dangerous activities until he abides by certain minimal regulations in the interest of the common good." Hillary stopped speaking when she noticed the horrified look on Bill's face. He plaintively blurted out the only three words in his mind at that time, "No more Santa?". Hillary scowled. "Keep on writing. Just put down the outline for now and we'll fill in the details later." "Section 1. Labor Law and Affirmative Action Violations - We can check with the National Labor Relations Board and see if he has filed the right forms, but I'm certain that he has not given his employees an opportunity to unionize. Imagine the conditions! No unions, no minimum wage, no factory closing notices, no family leave requirements. Horrible. I'll bet he runs the place with real iron hand." "Should I write that down too?" Bill asked. "Just keep writing." she replied briskly. "Let's send Panetta out to do a study on the employment effect of his business. Just think of the unemployment that must be caused by the overtime those little elves are forced to work in that sweatshop of his! Every toy and article of clothing they produce is a meal taken out of the mouth of some deserving poor child of a union member." "Also, there is no racial diversity among Santa's elves, they need some non-white, non-male elves, maybe some gay and lesbian elves. Hmm, I wonder if elves can get AIDS..." "But honey, they aren't male. Elves are androgynous. Why, in the paper I saw a picture..." "Shut up Bill, or you will be androgynous." He whimpered "But Barney Frank says...". Hillary scowled at him again and raised an accusatory eyebrow. "Yes dear." "Section 2. Aviation Regulation Violations - Let's run a check to see if Santa has a pilot's license. If he doesn't, he will have to go to ground school, learn to fly, and then have a health exam. I bet that old slave driver has not even had a checkup for years. He probably isn't insured either. He might have a heart attack and be unable to land." "But honey, it would take months for him to get a license. What will we do when Christmas comes?", Hillary snapped back "It's not my fault if he didn't think ahead. You should get your priorities straight mister. Who are you working for, him or me? I have to look out for people. I can't be responsible for the fact that Santa Claus doesn't take care of himself. Are you married to him or me?" Bill knew there was no escape. He slipped even lower into the chair so that his chin was barely visible above the desktop. "I'm happily married to you sweetie pie. Santa's bad.", he drawled. Hillary smiled and went on. "Santa doesn't follow FAA regulations. He needs approved running lights. I'm certain that deer noses aren't acceptable according to regulations. He needs an FAA registration number painted on the side of his vehicle too. Have a staffer look up the penalties on that one and have them compute a fine on a per-mile-traveled-in-violation basis. He carries no transponders, black boxes, or radios and does not request landing and take-off clearance at every house. We can't even track his position exactly. Where does he get off flying around like some kind of stealth bomber? Rooftops aren't approved landing sites anyway. Each home desiring a landing should apply for a temporary landing permit including an Environmental Impact Report. That should run him a cool $25,000 per house at least." She pondered the situation briefly and said "You know, there are landing fees to be paid at most airfields too...oh well, that's enough for now. Let's move on." "Section 3. Free Trade Regulation Violations - Santa engages in the dumping of goods at below his own cost of production. Heck, he's got a monopoly in his market. Nobody can compete with him with prices fixed like that. We could shut him down ten different ways right there. The Sherman Anti-Trust Act...the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade...NAFTA...Have the Attorney General draw up an indictment. We'll hold that in reserve in case Santa squirms. He'll have to play ball with us or we'll spring the lawsuits on him. Let's see if we can get the international Court of Justice to ratify some kind of condemnation of Santa too. Maybe Gore can twist some arms on that one. Let's just make sure it doesn't look like it's just me going after him alone." "Section 4. OSHA Regulation Violations - Santa's workshop has never even been inspected by OSHA or any other workplace regulation agency. Just think of the number of violations he must have! He won't be certified to string two popcorn kernels together in there for at least a year." "Section 5. Internal Revenue Service Violations - Santa's a regular Al Capone. None of his employees file 1040 forms or W-2s, and he has never sent us a penny in withholding or estimated tax." "But honey pie", Bill whined, "Santa isn't an American, you said so yourself. He lives at the North Pole over international waters." He asked hesitantly, "Right?" "Oh come on Bill. An agent of greed like he is would have to be an American. He's a greeedy capitalist exploiting people all over the world, evading taxes, butalizing his employees, oppressing minorities, and all the rest. Santa is 100% American alright and you know it. Don't you?" "Yes dear." "Section 6. Violation of Alcohol and Tobacco Laws - Santa carries that little flask of brandy while entering and leaving the country (without permission too) and he doesn't pay any duties. We can hit him for drunk driving, we can test him for alcohol and drugs. Make a note to have Ted look into that. He knows all about those laws." Bill started to open his mouth to ask a question. No words came out though, so he just kept on writing. "And smoking too. That sleigh is a place of employment so that pipe of his is illegal. It's for his own good anyway." "Section 7. Violation of Immigration Law - Santa enters the country with no visa, no passport, and no permission of any kind and leaves the same way. Make a note to have Janet Reno check with the INS to see if we can get him for illegal immigration. Also make a note that we ought to see if we can get him extradited from the EC and the FSU. It'll do us no good to shut him down here if he's out bouncing around the world like some one-man multi-national corporation." "What was 'FSU' again?" Bill asked hoarsely. Hillary sighed. "Former Soviet Union" she said in an annoyed tone. "How many times do I have to tell you? Always check the red cue card before you ask me a stupid question." "I keep forgetting...is that just Russia or...yes dear." "Section 8. Animal Abuse - And what about those reindeer? Aren't they being held against their will? He ought to be forced to fund a study to determine if they are working voluntarily or whether they are voiceless victims of speciesism." "But sweetie, they are just animals after all. How can you know if they are there against their will?" "What?" she shrieked. "You are starting to sound just like a Republican. Don't you have any compassion for animals? Just think of where you would be if I didn't have compassion for you! Just shut up and listen. You might learn something." Hillary began to pace again, rubbing her chin. After a few seconds of silence Bill interrupted, "Why do you have to apply every last law to Santa? Why can't we give him a break?" "Oh but I am giving him a break. I'm intentionally ignoring a host of other violations he's guilty of. He doesn't carpool, I'm sure those reindeer have not had all their shots, he transports fruit over state lines, he has not filed forms with the the Social Security Administration, the SEC, HUD, or any of the agencies in any of the 50 states in which he operates, or any of the city governments and zoning boards, and to boot, he clearly has a poor diet and in his old age he will become a burden on society. He should thank me for just sticking with the IRS, FAA, NLRB, OSHA, and EEOC stuff and not holding him to all of the laws. "But honey! How can you be so hard on Santa? All he does is make people happy. Can't you just make an exception?" He started to wince before she answered. "Look, this guy is a slum lord! He is anti-union sweatshop owner! He produces all these things and gives them away destroying jobs! He is a danger to navigation! He eats too much fat! He smokes and drinks! He flaunts the law! If people realize what he is up to, demand to know what we have done to put a stop to this. It's a good thing I noticed that Santa is such an exploiter of innocent people. Now we can do something about him." Hillary panted as she finished her tirade and she glared at Bill waiting for a reply. "Well?" she said. Bill sunk lower into his chair. He pouted as he uttered the required response. "Yes dear." Hillary resumed her lecturing tone, "Don't you feel better now? This is why we came to Washington in the first place, to save the country from materialism and greedy influences. Now let's get this thing drafted and sent out to the press. This time remember, it goes out AFTER the last Limbaugh broadcast for the day. Got it?" She spun on her heel and walked out. Bill could hear her calling for a secretary in the outer office. He relaxed in his chair and spun it around again to look out the window at the big fluffy clumps of snow falling outside. After a few moments of peace he winced at the shrieking in the outer office as Hillary fired the secretary for asking if she was serious. She poked her head back in the office and said "Is everyone around here incapable of thinking? Good God, would you do something useful around here for once?". "Yes dear.", Bill muttered under his breath in a sarcastic tone. Bill straightened up in his chair and pressed a button on the intercom. "Get Stephenopolis and DeeDee Myers in here...I want to dialog with them about how we will save Christmas from that mean old Grinch." For a moment Bill wondered who he should tell them who the Grinch was. Unable to make a decision between the two alternatives, he decided to spend a few more minutes practicing faces in the window instead. -- +------------------+---------------------------------------------------------+ | Brian K. Yoder | "Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human | | byoder@netcom.com| freedom. It is the argument of tyrants; it is the | | US Networx, Inc. | creed of slaves." -- William Pitt | +------------------+---------------------------------------------------------+ From owner-apo-l%PURCCVM.BITNET@hamlet.caltech.edu Thu Jan 12 19:08:38 1995 Subject: Santa Stuff Sender: Alpha Phi Omega Reply-To: ShutUpPaul@aol.com X-Envelope-To: adam@CS.CALTECH.EDU Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7BIT 30 Ways To Confuse Santa Claus: 1. Instead of milk and cookies, leave him a salad, and a note explaining that you think he could stand to lose a few pounds. 2. While he's in the house, go find his sleigh and write him a speeding ticket. 3. Leave him a note, explaining that you've gone away for the holidays. Ask if he would mind watering your plants. 4. While he's in the house, replace all his reindeer with exact replicas. Then wait and see what happens when he tries to get them to fly. 5. Keep an angry bull in your living room. If you think a bull goes crazy when he sees a little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa suit! 6. Build an army of mean-looking snowmen on the roof, holding signs that say "We hate Christmas," and "Go away Santa." 7. Leave a note by the telephone, telling Santa that Mrs. Claus called and wanted to remind him to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread on his way home. 8. Throw a surprise party for Santa when he comes down the chimney. Refuse to let him leave until the strippers arrive. 9. While he's in the house, find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as he comes back and sees you, tell him that he shouldn't have missed that last payment, and take off. 10. Leave a plate filled with cookies and a glass of milk out, with a note that says, "For The Tooth Fairy. :)" Leave another plate out with half a stale cookie and a few drops of skim milk in a dirty glass with a note that says, "For Santa. :(" 11. Take everything out of your house as if it's just been robbed. When Santa arrives, show up dressed like a policeman and say, "Well, well. They always return to the scene of the crime." 12. Leave out a copy of your Christmas list with last-minute changes and corrections. 13. While he's in the house, cover the top of the chimney with barbed wire. 14. Leave lots of hunting trophies and guns out where Santa's sure to see them. Go outside, yell, "Ooh! Look! A deer! And he's got a red nose!" and fire a gun. 15. Leave Santa a note, explaining that you've moved. Include a map with unclear and hard-to-read directions to your new house. 16. Set a bear trap at the bottom of the chimney. Wait for Santa to get caught in it, and then explain that you're sorry, but from a distance, he looked like a bear. 17. Leave out a Santa suit, with a dry-cleaning bill. 18. Paint "hoof-prints" all over your face and clothes. While he's in the house, go out on the roof. When he comes back up, act like you've been "trampled." Threaten to sue. 19. Instead of ornaments, decorate your tree with Easter eggs. 20. Cut a big hole in your roof and cover it with a blanket, so that when Santa tries to land on your roof his sleigh crashes into your living room. Explain that you've been having problems with termites. 21. Set up your living room to look like a workshop, and have people dressed up like elves making toys. When Santa comes, sneer and say, "What's the matter? Afraid of a little competition?" 22. While he's on the roof, yell up to Santa, asking if he'll mind adjusting your TV antenna. When he does so, tell him, "That's good" and don't let him move until the "commercial" comes on. 23. Put on a giant tree costume, and wear a sign that says, "Man-eating Tree - Stay Back." When Santa comes, wave your arms angrily and chase him back up the chimney. 24. Shovel all the snow off of your roof, and replace it with whipped cream. Just when Santa is remarking how cute this is, light a bunch of firecrackers and throw them onto the roof. The explosions should make quite a mess, and maybe scare the reindeer away, too. If so, offer to loan Santa your car. 25. Scatter the parts of a disassembled bicycle around your living room. Get Santa to help you put it together. 26. Make your own stockings to hang over the fireplace. Have pictures on them of things like Santa getting hit in the head with a large rock, or Santa catching his beard on fire. 27. Put a note that says, "For Santa" on a can that's labelled "Rat Poison." Cross out the words "Rat Poison" and write "Yummy Cookies." 28. When Santa comes, act like you're wrapping Christmas presents. Have boxes that say things on them like "Dead Elf" or "Human Skull." If Santa asks, explain that they're for needy children. 29. Set up bowling pins in front of your fireplace. When Santa comes down the chimney, throw the ball at him. Angrily tell him to get out of your lane. 30. Dress up like the Easter Bunny. Wait for Santa to come, and then put up your fists and say, "This neighborhood ain't big enough for the both of us." Merry Christmas! Beware of plaid candy canes. From owner-tftd-l@TAMVM1.TAMU.EDU Fri Dec 8 05:25:57 1995 Approved-By: Dan Galvin Reply-To: Dan Galvin Sender: THOUGHT FOR THE DAY Subject: Thought for Friday, Dec 08, 1995 To: Multiple recipients of list TFTD-L Urgent: Famous Reindeer Terminated The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole. Streamlining is due to the North Pole's loss of dominance of the season's gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share. He could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture. The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has received unfavorable press. I am pleased to inform you that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose got that way, not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of year when he is known to be under executive stress. As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary: - The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance; - The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated; - The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French; - The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked; - The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks appear to be in order; - The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one; - The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement; - As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching; - Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps; - Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year; - Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line; We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved. Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing") action is pending. Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number. Happy Holidays! (TFTD received two sightly different versions of this work. Thanks to Vicky and to Bob for sending it.) (actually three now- Thanks Richard) From UCHENJX@fieldp03.lexis-nexis.com Tue Dec 12 12:04:01 1995 To: "Sisson, William A." , "Odonnell, Suzanne" <2056851@mcimail.com>, "Chen, Angela" , "Rifkin, Adam" , "'Ito, Ayako'" , Amy Padfield , "Franz, Brenda" , "chen, carl" To: "Davis, Carolyn" , "Drapeau, Connie" , "'Chrismore, Tina'" , "Austin, Doug" , "Bedwell, Darren" , "Diprospero, Nick" , "Greenwald, Delores" , "Histen, Tommy" To: "Matarazzo, James" , "Theisen, Jan" , "Lee, Julie" , "Rudgers, Kyle" , "Whiteman, Mike" , "brown, Missy" , "Byrnes, Mike" , "'Freed, Mark'" To: "Egan, Mykl" , "Muller, Patty" , "Spear, Paula" , "Feyl, Steve" , "'Knowles, Stephanie'" Subject: FW: Fwd: Holiday cheer Encoding: 189 TEXT X-Mailer: Microsoft Mail V3.0 ---------- From: Chennyjohn To: Chen, Johnny Subject: Fwd: Holiday cheer Date: Saturday, December 09, 1995 6:39AM Received: from meaddata.lexis-nexis.com by smtpgate.lexis-nexis.com (PostalUnion/SMTP(tm) v2.1.8c for Windows NT(tm)) id AA-1995Dec09.063728.1429.21550; Sat, 09 Dec 1995 06:37:28 -0500 Received: from lexis-nexis.com (internet) by meaddata.lexis-nexis.com (4.1/SMI-4.1) id AA26929; Sat, 9 Dec 95 06:39:46 EST Received: from mail02.mail.aol.com by lexis-nexis.com (4.1/SMI-4.1) id AA04029; Sat, 9 Dec 95 06:39:42 EST Received: by mail02.mail.aol.com (8.6.12/8.6.12) id GAA09974 for johnny.chen@lexis-nexis.com; Sat, 9 Dec 1995 06:39:37 -0500 Date: Sat, 9 Dec 1995 06:39:37 -0500 From: Chennyjohn@aol.com Message-Id: <951209063936_68169466@mail02.mail.aol.com> To: johnny.chen@lexis-nexis.com Subject: Fwd: Holiday cheer --------------------- Forwarded message: Subj: Holiday cheer Date: 95-11-17 21:58:24 EST From: DarrenDB To: PERKT@inetdirect.net,Chennyjohn To: Blivet49,jparshall@dttus.com To: Robert_Sartain_at_CAM1@abtassoc.com To: DOUG@hwa.com ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Season's Greetings The usual large, flamboyant typeface associated with the season's greetings has been downsized this year, commensurate with the trend toward corporate downsizing [and the fact that SMTP does not support typeface control]. The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole. Streamlining was appropriate in view of the reality that the North Pole no longer dominates the season's gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share and he could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture. The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a late-model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated and should take up the slack with no discernible loss of service. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has been cited and received unfavorable press. I am pleased to inform you and yours that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose got that way not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of year when he is known to be under executive stress. As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary: The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance. The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost-effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated. The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French. The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked. The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks appear to be in order. The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one. The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes, enhancing their outplacement potential. As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring, or a-mulching. Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps. Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year. Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line. We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop-ship in one day, service levels will be improved. Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing") action is pending. Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see whether seven dwarfs is the right number. Happy Holidays! ----------------------- Headers --------- From megan.coughlin@attws.com Fri Dec 15 10:45:09 1995 Content-Type: text/plain Mime-Version: 1.0 (NeXT Mail 3.3 v118.2) X-Nextstep-Mailer: Mail 3.3 (Enhance 1.0) To: jfdobb@clark.net, Adam Rifkin Subject: The Twelve Days of Software Design Reply-To: megan.coughlin@attws.com X-Phone: (206) 702-5342 Begin forwarded message: From: Peter Vandenberk Date: Thu, 14 Dec 95 10:23:05 -0800 To: Application_Architecture Subject: The Twelve Days of Software Design The Twelve Days of Software Design For the first bug of Christmas, my manager said to me See if they can do it again. For the second bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the third bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the fourth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the fifth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the sixth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the seventh bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the eighth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the ninth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the tenth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Change the documentation Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the eleventh bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Say it's not supported Change the documentation Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. For the twelfth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me Tell them it's a feature Say it's not supported Change the documentation Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. From owner-voxers-at-large@USA.NET Sat Dec 16 13:57:54 1995 X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0b3 (Macintosh; I; PPC) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary="---------------------------2225148207624" Reply-To: VOXERS-AT-LARGE@usa.net Sender: Voxers At Large Organization: Jesus in Trunk Subject: [Fwd: 'Tis the season?] To: Multiple recipients of list VOXERS-AT-LARGE This is a multi-part message in MIME format. -----------------------------2225148207624 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit -- Catherine Skidmore * http://www.interport.net/~eppie * eppie@interport.net Fear is not the end of this. -----------------------------2225148207624 Content-Type: message/rfc822 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Disposition: inline Received: from park.interport.net (park.nfs.interport.net [205.161.144.2]) by interport.net (8.6.10/8.6.10) with ESMTP id CAA04777 for ; Sat, 16 Dec 1995 02:17:11 -0500 Received: from mail (mail.netcom.com [192.100.81.99]) by park.interport.net (8.6.11/8.6.11) with ESMTP id CAA18228 for ; Sat, 16 Dec 1995 02:17:11 -0500 Received: from imgnet.com by mail (8.6.12/Netcom) id XAA08743; Fri, 15 Dec 1995 23:09:26 -0800 Received: from [204.217.174.11] (ian.interworks.com [204.217.174.11]) by imgnet.com (8.6.9/8.6.9) with SMTP id XAA08180 for ; Fri, 15 Dec 1995 23:11:24 -0800 X-Sender: ian@204.217.174.5 Message-Id: Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Date: Fri, 15 Dec 1995 23:11:37 -0800 To: cybernauts-l@netcom.com From: ian@interworks.com (Ian M. Sokoloff) Subject: 'Tis the season? X-Mozilla-Status: 0000 >The Twelve Hacks of Christmas by Larry T. Green > >On the First Day of Christmas, My true love sent to me, > Bill Gates stranded in a Pear Tree > >On the Second Day of Christmas, My true love sent to me, > Two Gigs of RAM, and Bill Gates stranded in a Pear Tree > >On the Third Day of Christmas, My true love sent to me, > Three PCI Busses, Two Gigs of RAM, > and Bill Gates stranded in a Pear Tree > >On the Fourth Day of Christmas, My true love sent to me, > Four CALL FN (...) Routines, Three PCI Busses, > Two Gigs of RAM, and Bill Gates stranded in a Pear Tree > >On the Fifth Day of Christmas, My true love sent to me, > ***** FIVE CD's of STEREO SOUND BYTE's ***** > Four CALL FN (...) Routines, Three PCI Busses, > Two Gigs of RAM, and Bill Gates stranded in a Pear Tree > >etc., etc., etc. ... > >On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, My true love sent to me, > a Twelve Hundred DPI Laser Printer, > Eleven new Kai's Power Tools, > Ten New True Type Fonts, > Nine pages documenting Bugs in Windows 95, > System 8.0, > Seven Unemployed IBM Top Executives, > Six Documented FP Errors by a Pentium Chip, > ***** FIVE CD's of STEREO SOUND BYTE's ***** > Four CALL FN (...) Routines, Three PCI Busses, > Two Gigs of RAM, and Bill Gates stranded in a Pear Tree > >(Author's footnote: Actually singing this will require extensive application >of the ad lib cadenza.) > > > >...and the second entry: > >Oh, You'd better not bomb, > You'd better not crash, >'Cause I'm gettin' paid > A Big wad o' cash: >Please perform as I advertized! > >I carefully debugged you, > Test fired each error trap, >So please don't just G.I./G.O. > Or lie down and take a nap! > >Oh, You'd better run right, > You'd better run true, >You'd better run as I advertized you, > So I'll get my big wad of cash! > > - Larry T. Green Dec.'95 -------------------------------------------------------- Ian Sokoloff InterWorks Consulting Group ian@interworks.com 2159 India St., Suite A (619)238-5538 (voice) San Diego, CA 92101 (619)238-5560 (fax) "InterWorks: a virtual consulting firm ... hmmm, I don't think that came out right." -----------------------------2225148207624-- ------------------------------------------------------------------ Voxers-At-Large: Your Psycho Fiends Network ------------------------------------------------------------------ From owner-voxers-at-large@USA.NET Sat Dec 16 14:02:56 1995 X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0b3 (Macintosh; I; PPC) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Reply-To: VOXERS-AT-LARGE@usa.net Sender: Voxers At Large Organization: Jesus in Trunk Subject: Re: Two Great Jokes To: Multiple recipients of list VOXERS-AT-LARGE David Godinger wrote: > > Subj: 12 Days of political Correctness > > On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my > potential-acquaintance-abuse-survivor gave to me, > > TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming. > > ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members > in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their > union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note...) > > TEN melanin-deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal > ruling class system leaping, > > NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression, > > EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk-products > from enslaved Bovine-Americans, > > SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands, > > SIX enslaved fowl-Americans producing stolen nonhuman animal products, > > FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic > incarceration, > > (NOTE: after a member of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw > red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge > have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further > animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.) > > FOUR hours of recorded whale songs, > > THREE deconstructionist poets, > > TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses > > and a Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree. > > -- Catherine Skidmore * http://www.interport.net/~eppie * eppie@interport.net Fear is not the end of this. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Voxers-At-Large: Your Psycho Fiends Network ------------------------------------------------------------------ Date: Wed, 6 Dec 1995 07:33:01 +0600 From: Randall Woodman Subject: Humor: Cajun Night Before Christmas Cajun Night Before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas an' all t'ru de house, Dey don't a ting pass Not even a mouse. De chirren been nezzle good snug on de flo', An' Mama pass de pepper t'ru de crack on de do'. De Mama in de fireplace done roas' up de ham, Sit up de gumbo an' make de bake yam. Den out on de by-you dey got such a clatter, Make soun' like old Boudreau done fall off his ladder. I run like a rabbit to got to de do', Trip over de dorg an' fall on de flo'. As I look out de do'in de light o' de moon, I t'ink, "Mahn, you crazy or got ol' too soon." Cux dere on de by-you w'en I stretch ma'neck stiff, Dere's eight alligator a pullin' de skiff. An' a little fat drover wit' a long pole-ing stick, I know r'at away got to be ole St.Nick. Mo' fas'er an' fas'er de' gator dey came He whistle an' holler an' call dem by name: "Ha, Gaston! Ha, Tiboy! Ha, Pierre an' Alcee'! Gee, Ninette! Gee, Suzette! Celeste an'Renee'! To de top o' de porch to de top o' de wall, Make crawl, alligator, an' be sho' you don' fall." Like Tante Flo's cat t'ru de treetop he fly, W'en de big ole houn' dorg come a run hisse's by. Like dat up de porch dem ole 'gator clim! Wit' de skiff full o' toy an' St. Nicklus behin'. Den on top de porch roof it soun' like de hail, W'en all dem big gator, done sot down dey tail. Den down de chimney I yell wit' a bam, An' St.Nicklus fall an' sit on de yam. "Sacre!" he axclaim, "Ma pant got a hole I done sot ma'se'f on dem red hot coal." He got on his foots an' jump like de cat Out to de flo' where he lan' wit' a SPLAT! He was dress in musk-rat from his head to his foot, An' his clothes is all dirty wit' ashes an' soot. A sack full o' playt'ing he t'row on his back, He look like a burglar an' dass fo' a fack. His eyes how dey shine his dimple, how merry! Maybe he been drink de wine from de blackberry. His cheek was like a rose his nose a cherry, On secon' t'ought maybe he lap up de sherry. Wit' snow-shite chin whisker an' quiverin' belly, He shook w'en he laugh like de stromberry jelly! But a wink in his eye an' a shook o' his head, Make my confi-dence dat I don't got to be scared. He don' do no talkin' gone strit to hi work, Put a playt'ing in sock an' den turn wit' a jerk. He put bot' his han' dere on top o' his head, Cas' an eye on de chimney an' den he done said: "Wit' all o' dat fire an' dem burnin' hot flame, Me I ain' goin' back by de way dat I came." So he run out de do' an, he clim' to de roof, He ain' no fool, him for to make one more goof. He jump in his skiff an' crack his big whip, De' gator move down, An don' make one slip. An' I hear him shout loud as a splashin' he go, "Merry Christmas to all 'til I saw you some mo'!" J.B.Kling, Jr. 1973 *** THE TEX-MEX VERSION OF "THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS" Jim and Nita Lee (Dec. 1972) 'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the casa, Not a creature ws stirring -- Caramba! Que pasa? Los ninos were tucked away in their camas, Some in long underwear, some in pijamas, While hanging the stockings with mucho cuidado In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado To bring all children, both buenos and malos, A nice batch of dulces and other regalos. Outside in the yard there arose such a grito That I jumped to my feet like a fightened cabrito. I ran to the window and looked out afuera, And who in the world do you think that it era? Saint Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero Came dashing along like a crazy bombero. And pulling his sleigh instead of venados Were eight little burros approaching volados. I watched as they came and this quaint little hombre Was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre: "Ay Pancho, ay Pepe, ay Cuco, ay Beto, Ay Chato, ay Chopo, Macuco, y Nieto!" Then standing erect with his hands on his pecho He flew to the top of our very own techo. With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea, He struggled to squeeze down our old chiminea, Then huffing and puffing at last in our sala, With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala, He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos -- For none of the ninos had been very malos. Then chuckling aloud, seeming very contento, He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento. And I heard him exclaim, and this is verdad, Merry Christmas to all, and Feliz Navidad! *** The Night Before Finals Twas the night before finals, And all through the college, The students were praying For last minute knowledge. Most were quite sleepy, But none touched their beds, While visions of essays danced in their heads. Out in the taverns, A few were still drinking, And hoping that liquor would loosen up their thinking. In my own apartment, I had been pacing, And dreading exams I soon would be facing. My roommate was speechless, His nose in his books, And my comments to him Drew unfriendly looks. I drained all the coffee, And brewed a new pot, No longer caring That my nerves were shot. I stared at my notes, But my thoughts were muddy, My eyes went ablur, I just couldn't study. "Some pizza might help," I said with a shiver, But each place I called Refused to deliver. I'd nearly concluded That life was too cruel, With futures depending On grades had in school. When all of a sudden, Our door opened wide, And Patron Saint Put It Off Ambled inside. His spirit was careless, His manner was mellow, He started to bellow: "What kind of student Would make such a fuss, To toss back at teachers What they tossed at us?" "On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes! On Last Year's Exams! On Wingit and Slingit, And Last Minute Crams!" His message delivered, He vanished from sight, But we heard him laughing Outside in the night. "Your teachers have pegged you, So just do your best. Happy Finals to All, And to All, a good test." *** A Redneck Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor. His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle, And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle. His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care, And therefore there was a foul stench in the air. >From out in the yard There came such a noise That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys. There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11; Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7. John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3: The twins were both girls So they let them be. They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt, Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk. They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall. There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all. Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll! The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw." Maw was expecting And needed her sleep, So out they crept out the door Without making a peep. They all looked around, and then they all spit. The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?" Bubba just stared; He could not say a word. This was just like all of The stories he'd heard. It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin' But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'! They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake That would have resulted in venison steak. Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!" That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys. The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain, And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name. "Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe! Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!" "Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall! Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!" The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up, And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup. Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys. Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys. >From up on the roof Santa heaved a great sigh. Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die. He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry. The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry. Just as the reindeer Got into the air, The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care. He was busy lookin' At all his new toys. Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys: "Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right. That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might." But Maw was OK, And the girls were too. They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new. And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick, But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick! Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too. And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you! *** you better !pout !cry you better watchout lpr why santa claus < north pole > town cat /etc/passwd > list ncheck list ncheck list cat list | grep naughty > nogiftlist cat list | grep nice > giftlist santa claus < north pole > town who | grep sleeping who | grep awake who | egrep 'bad | good' for (goodness sake) { be good } santa claus < north pole > town *** Borrowed without permission from Jeff Foxworthy's Christmas song: On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 12 Pack of Bud 11 Rasslin' tickets tin of copenhagen 9 years probation 8 table dancers 7 cans of redman 6 cans of spam 5 Flannel Shirts 4 Mud Grip Tires 3 Shotgun Shells 2 Huntin' dogs and some parts to a Mustang GT If you're from Georgia you'll understand the Mud Grip Tires :). *** THE BOY WHO LAUGHED AT SANTA CLAUS By Ogden Nash In Baltimore there lived a boy, He wasn't anybody's joy. Although his name was Jabez Dawes, His character was full of flaws. In school he never led his classes, He hid old ladies' reading glasses, His mouth was open when he chewed, And elbows to the table glued. He stole the milk of hungry kittens, And walked through doors marked No Admittance. He said he acted thus because There wasn't any Santa Claus. Another trick that tickled Jabez Was crying "Boo!" at little babies. He brushed his teeth, they said in town, Sideways instead of up and down. Yet people pardoned every sin, And viewed his antics with a grin, Till they were told by Jabez Dawes, "There isn't any Santa Claus!" Deploring how he did behave, His parents swiftly sought their grave. They hurried through the portals pearly, And Jabez left the funeral early. Like whooping cough, from child to child, He sped to spread the rumor wild: "Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes There isn't any Santa Claus!" Slunk like a weasel or a marten Through nursery and kindergarten, Whispering low to every tot, "There isn't any, no there's not!" The children wept all Christmas Eve And Jabez chortled up his sleeve. No infant dared to hang up his stocking For fear of Jabez' ribald mocking. He sprawled on his untidy bed, Fresh malice dancing in his head, When presently with scalp a-tingling, Jabez heard a distant jingling; He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof Crisply alighting on the roof. What good to rise and bar the door? A shower of soot was on the floor. What was beheld by Jabez Dawes? The fireplace full of Santa Claus! Then Jabez fell upon his knees With cries of "Don't," and "Pretty please." He howled, "I don't know where you read it, But anyhow, I never said it!" "Jabez," replied the angry saint, "It isn't I, it's you that ain't. Although there is a Santa Claus, There isn't any Jabez Dawes!" Said Jabez with impudent vim, "Oh, yes there is; and I am him! Your magic don't scare me, it doesn't"--- And suddenly he found he wasn't! >From grimy feet to grimy locks, Jabez became a Jack-in-the-box, An ugly toy with springs unsprung, Forever sticking out his tongue. The neighbors heard his mournful squeal; They searched for him, but not with zeal. No trace was found of Jabez Dawes, Which led to thunderous applause, And people drank a loving cup And went and hung their stockings up. All you who sneer at Santa Claus, Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes, The saucy boy who mocked the saint. Donder and Blitzen licked off his paint. *** Tis the night before Christmas and Santa's relaxed. Guam's surf is up-- Santa's surf board is waxed. The Zories are hung by the Aircon with care, And the Kiddies all know Santa soon will be there. Once the tide goes out, and he's through "hangin' ten" He'll stop to see Barbara, and Charlie, and Ben. A snack's been prepared by Becky and Sam. It's that old island favorite: Tortillas and Spam. After giving out presents, for his surfboard he'll reach. Santa's parting remark will be "Back to the Beach!" He'll join all those tourists who visit for fun. When it comes to vacations, he says, "Guam's number one!" And you'll hear him exclaim 'ere he boogies away: Merry Christmas to all, And to all, "Hafa Adai!" *** Christmas Party Festivity Levels ================================ Level I: Your guests are conversing quietly, nibbling at their hors d'oerves, and sipping their drinks. Later, some of the gather by the piano to sing Christmas carols while others admire the ornaments on your tree. Level II: Your guests are talking loudly, wolfing hors d'oerves, and drinking from the bottles. Some people gather by the piano to sing "I Gotta Be Me" while others begin rearranging your Christmas ornaments. Level III: Your guests are arguing wildly among themselves, those that haven't passed out from the upside-down margaritas. One person is singing "I Can't Get No Satisfaction", which can barely be heard over the sound of breaking ornaments. A small group of guests begin placing hors d'oerves in the piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike. Level IV: Your guests, hors d'oerves smeared over their naked bodies, are performing a ritualistic dance around the burning Christmas tree. The piano is missing. In general, you want to keep your party around Level III, unless you rent your home, have insurance, and are carrying firearms. The quickest way to get to Level III is egg-nog. *** From owner-voxers-at-large@USA.NET Sun Dec 17 18:23:45 1995 X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0b3 (Macintosh; I; PPC) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Reply-To: VOXERS-AT-LARGE@usa.net Sender: Voxers At Large Organization: Jesus in Trunk Subject: why i sold my car. aka xmas cheer. To: Multiple recipients of list VOXERS-AT-LARGE Dashing through the snow in my rusty Chevrolet. Down the road I go, sliding all the way. I need new piston rings. I need some new snow tires. My car is held together by a piece of chicken wire! Oh, rust and smoke, the heater's broke, the door just blew away. I light a match to see the dash and then I start to pray-ay. The frame is bent, the muffler went, the radio's okay. Oh, what fun it is to drive this rusty Chevrolet! I went to IGA, to get some Christmas cheer. I just passed up my left front tire and it's gettin' hard to steer. Speeding down the highway, right past the county cops. I have to drag my swampers just to get the car to stop. Oh, rust and smoke, the heater's broke, the door just blew away. I light a match to see the dash and then I start to pray-ay. The frame is bent, the muffler went, the radio's okay. Oh, what fun it is to drive this rusty Chevrolet! Bouncing through the snowdrifts in a big, blue cloud of smoke. People laugh as I drive by; I wonder what's the joke! I have to get to Wal-Mart to pick up my layaway, Cause Santa's comin' soon in his big, old, rusty sleigh! Oh, rust and smoke, the heater's broke, the door just blew away. I light a match to see the dash and then I start to pray-ay. The frame is bent, the muffler went, the radio's okay. Oh, what fun it is to drive this rusttttttttty Chevroooooooleeeeeet! -- Catherine Skidmore * http://www.interport.net/~eppie * eppie@interport.net Fear is not the end of this. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Voxers-At-Large: Your Psycho Fiends Network ------------------------------------------------------------------ From megan.coughlin@attws.com Thu Dec 21 09:32:15 1995 Content-Type: text/plain Mime-Version: 1.0 (NeXT Mail 3.3 v118.2) X-Nextstep-Mailer: Mail 3.3 (Enhance 1.0) To: John Dobbin , Adam Rifkin Subject: is there a santa claus? Reply-To: megan.coughlin@attws.com X-Phone: (206) 702-5342 [fwds snipped] SANTA AND QUANTUM MECHANICS IS THERE A SANTA CLAUS? 1. No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are some 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen. 2. There are two billion children (persons under age 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, etc. children on the world, that reduces his workload to just 15% of the total--378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that s 91.8 million homes. One presumes there is at least one good child in each. 3. Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. this is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1,000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. a. Assuming that each of these 91.8 millions stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per house, a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc. b. This means that Santa s sleigh is moving at approximately 650 miles per second. That s roughly 3,000 times the speed of sound at sea level. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second--a convention reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour. 4. The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets a present weighting no more than two pounds (for comparison, a medium size Lego set is about two pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, no counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, convention reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that flying reindeer could pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload--not even counting the weight of the sleigh itself--to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison--this is approximately four times the weight of Queen Elizabeth. 5. 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance--this will heat the reindeer In the same fashion as spacecraft re-entering the earth s atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer beam will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa Clause (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,325,015 pounds of force.In conclusion, If Santa ever did attempt to deliver presents one Christmas Eve, then he s dead now. On the other hand, Nick might just know something about quantum mechanics. From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Thu Dec 21 14:24:18 1995 To: lotd@world.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Thu, Dec 21 1995 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: lotd-owner@europe.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: North Pole Standoff with ATF* Dec. 23, 1994 Northpole Standoff A fierce battle ended in a stand-off today as a multi-jurisdictional task force of federal law enforcement agents tried to arrest the leader of a militant doomsday cult, who call themselves "Elves," living in a heavily fortified compound at the Northpole. According to witnesses, federal agents hid in livestock trailers as they drove up to the compound. The approach was difficult in the snow using wheeled vehicles. Several agents were reportedly thrown from the trailer when it hit a snowbank. The agents were unable to use dogteams and sleds because the ATF agents shot all the dogs during training at a nearby recreational facility where agents had practiced for weeks on a mock-up of the compound in preparation for the raid. As three National Guard helicopters approached, over 100 law officers stormed the main compound, a heavily fortified gingerbread structure, throwing concussion grenades and screaming "Come out!" Cult members and law officers negotiated a cease-fire about 45 minutes after the incident began. For the next several hours, ambulances and helicopters swarmed the premises. The area was cordoned off and ATF agents with machine guns were posted in the roadways to keep reporters at least two miles from the main battle area. In a lengthy report on the group Saturday, The Northpole Tribune-Herald said that the cult was known to have a large arsenal of high-powered weapons, probably produced in a workshop disguised as a "toy factory." This toy factory is also believed to be the sight of a mephamphetamine laboratory, according to sources inside the ATF. The article quoted investigators as saying the crazed cult leader, who uses several aliases, "Santa Claus," "Saint Nick," "Sinterclaas," and "Saint Nicholas," age unknown, has abused children and claims to have at least 15 wives. Santa Claus denies these accusations of abuse and said he has had only one wife, Mrs. Santa Claus. Authorities had a warrant to search the Northpole compound for guns and explosive devices and an arrest warrant for its leader, Santa Claus, said Mess Stanford of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms in Washington, D.C. Mr. Stanford added it would be useless to attempt to get a copy of this warrant, however, because it had been sealed, "for national security reasons." The assault came one day after the Northpole Tribune-Herald began publishing a series on the cult, quoting former members as saying the deranged cult leader, Santa Claus, abused children and had at least 15 wives. ATF spokesman Jack Killchildren in Washington said the assault had been planned for several weeks, although he added, "I think the newspaper's investigation set up heightened tension." The cult's fortress, called "The Toy Factory," is dominated by a tower with lookout windows facing in all directions. Guards reportedly patrol the 77-acre grounds at night. Attorney General Janet Reno ordered the raid after cult members refused to surrender documents relating to national security. A source inside the Justice Department said that the documents were lists of cabinet members and highly placed government officials who were naughty or nice. Despite preliminary, secret negotiations to obtain the list, the Elves refused to surrender the document to the Justice Department. The raid was scheduled for December 23, because December 25 is believed to be a traditional cult holiday and all the militant elves would be engaged in cult rituals in preparation for the event. At a press conference this afternoon, Attorney General Reno said, "These militants abuse children in the most vile manner, by teaching them to expect charity. They have even distributed free, working replicas of 'assault weapons' and 'handguns.' It is a matter of dire importance to our future and the future of all our children, that this peril be ended by every means at our disposal." She went on to say that "I do not want to surround the compound and shoot everyone and then burn it to the ground in order to prevent this child abuse from occurring again, but that appears to be our only alternative." According to Reno, the "Toy Factory" itself is a sweatshop and conditions inside were horrendous. The Department of Justice is also looking into allegations of animal cruelty. Former members of the cult have claimed that Santa Claus frequently uses leather restraints on at least eight reindeer, housed in sordid conditions on the compound. Witnesses reported seeing a reindeer with a protruding red nose, which Janet Reno said was further indication of the abusive conditions inside the compound. Several of the elves were reported by the BATF to have been carrying automatic weapons. However, independant sources dispute this, claiming that the "automatic weapons" were nothing more than large candy canes. ATF leader Ted Oyster, shaken after the ordeal, spoke to reporters as hundreds of agents, many of them in tears, were taken away from the Northpole in military airlifts, ambulances, and private vehicles. "We had our plan down, we had our diversion down, and they were waiting..." Oyster said resignedly, shaking his head. A hospital spokesman said that most of the wounded ATF agents appeared to be suffering from shrapnel wounds from broken candy canes, as well as frostbite, apparently suffered from wearing forest-green camoflage in the wintery terrain. Attorney General Reno offered no comment on these reports. Mack "the knife" McWarty was seen strolling across the White House lawn, chuckling to himself as he read what inside sources say was a copy of the naughty/nice list. One highly placed government official was found dead in Marcy Park. His name and the cause of death are unknown at this time, however, the White House immediately issued a statement claiming the official had committed suicide after learning his name was not on the nice list. Patsy Thomahawk refused to comment on the advice of her attorney on whether she had any part in removing copies of the naughty/nice list from a safe in the White House. A spokesman from the MJTF said that it was indeed a tragedy that Santa Claus had caused this confrontation, but this should be a lesson to anyone who tries to give to everyone without permission from the welfare department, and that gathering sensitive data without a permit from official sources will be stopped by any means. FBI spokesman Bob Pricks, the former national Abortion Poster Child of 1944, relayed that "We are dealing with a madman. We have cut off all electricity, water, and communications to the compound. Santa Claus has demanded that we relay a message to the world. It reads, 'Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.' FBI psychological experts are presently analyzing the message, however, preliminary reports indicate this is an encrypted threat to invade the neighboring towns near the Northpole. It may also be a doomsday message that the cult intends to commit suicide, like Jonestown." Shortly after the raid, a smiling Reno was seen strolling through the pile of rubbish looking for anatomically correct Barbie dolls. She claimed that she was going to confiscate any that she found as "evidence" and that they were for a personal investigation that she was conducting. Attorney General Reno also disclosed some information about plans to raid Mr. E. Ster Bunny sometime next spring. According to the FBI's report on Mr. Bunny, he has been hording food all year. This is in direct violation of a secret Presidential Directive. "This ingratitude for everything that we have done will stop, even if it means raiding every house in the USA to enforce these new laws that were made to insure your freedom...." Reno said. This, boys and girls, should make us all sleep just a little bit better tonight. The government will protect us from overindulging in freedom. If they didn't step in and take control of that "naughty/nice" list, just think what shape we might be in..... ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/religion/xmas/northpole.standoff ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From seppley@alumni.caltech.edu Fri Dec 22 13:01:23 1995 Comments: Authenticated sender is To: finley@alumni.caltech.edu, adam at xent dot com Subject: (Fwd) christmas carols for geeks Priority: normal X-Mailer: Pegasus Mail for Windows (v2.10) Hi-Tech Christmas Carols ---------------------------------------------------------------------- "God Will This Multimedia PC Ever Run Clean?" (Sung to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen") God will this multimedia PC ever run clean? I've spent two days configuring this stupid new machine, The Sound Blaster and CD-ROM don't want to co-exist, Oh I want to smash the screen with my fist, screen with my fist, Oh I want to smash the screen with my fist. All of the cards in all the slots, and all the memory too, Are acting like they're stepping on each other's I-R-Q, And just when I suspect that all the jumper settings jive, I get the message that there's no boot drive, there's no boot drive, I get the message that there's no boot drive. So now I'll try to put the printer on the parallel port, It's been six hours I've been on hold with Technical Support, I need to know if any of my drivers are amiss, There's an error in CONFIG.SYS, CONFIG.SYS, There's an error in CONFIG.SYS. So now the PC's running but for how long who knows, It crashes if I try to open more than three windows, As soon as "Myst" is loaded up the video goes black, I really should have gone with a MAC, gone with a MAC, I really should have gone with a MAC. "Token Ring, Broken Ring" (Sung to the tune of "Silent Night, Holy Night") Token Ring, broken ring, Someone out there's beaconing, To a halt the network has ground, With a Sniffer we must run around, Some adapter is hosed, Some adapter is hosed. Token Ring, broken ring, Praise to IBM the king, Break out 802.5, Find out who on the net is alive, Re-boot every station, Re-boot every station. Token Ring, broken ring, Problem guide we're following, Fiber cable got caught in a door, Boy George cable is pinched by false floor, Zero in on the cause, Zero in on the cause. Token Ring, broken ring, Heck, it could be anything, Passive MAU with a broken wire Active hub card has caught on fire, Run, the Halon has come, Run, the Halon has come. "Check the Calls" (Sung to the tune of "Deck the Halls") Check the calls of angry users (Fa la la la la, la la la la) All the MAC's have broken Choosers (Fa la la la la, la la la la) On the Ethernet there's streaming (Fa la la, la la la, la la la) See the IS manager steaming (Fa la la la la, la la la la) Put the Sniffer on the segment (Fa la la la la, la la la la) See the user data fragment (Fa la la la la, la la la la) See collisions swamp the cable (Fa la la, la la la, la la la) "We'll get things up when we're able" (Fa la la la la, la la la la) Every tech's turned off his beeper (Fa la la la la, la la la la) We thought Thin-net would be cheaper (Fa la la la la, la la la la) Looking under some jerk's table (Fa la la, la la la, la la la) Found out he'd unplugged his cable (Fa la la la la, la la la la) "Hark the News in Networking" (Sung to the tune of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing") Hark the news in networking, ATM's the big new thing, Route your data virtually, (but it won't do Token Ring), Put your LAN hubs here and there, Run your fibers everywhere, Figure out who talks to who, Cross your fingers (it's still new). Hark the news in networking, ATM's the big new thing. Throw your routers in the garbage, They are sadly out of date, Been two years since they were put in, Even now's a little late, Toss your gateways and your muxes, Put your bridges back in boxes, For the new age you'll be set, Hope you don't mind - it's Ethernet, Hark the news in networking, ATM's the big new thing. From owner-voxers-at-large@USA.NET Mon Dec 25 13:09:49 1995 X-Sender: voidmstr@mailhost.primenet.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Reply-To: VOXERS-AT-LARGE@usa.net Sender: Voxers At Large Subject: h0h0h0h0 To: Multiple recipients of list VOXERS-AT-LARGE TOP 12 REASONS WHY WE LIKE HANUKKAH 12. You can't be nailed to the menorah 11. More elephants in the Hanukkah story 10. No roof damage from reindeer 9. Never a silent night when you're among your Jewish loved ones 8. Dance of the Sugar-Plum Rebbe 7. Betting Hanukkah gelt on candle races 6. Yes, Rivka'le, there is no Santa Claus 5. Naked spin-the-dreidel games 4. Fun waxy buildup 3. No awkward explanations of virgin birth 2. Cheer optional 1. No Irving Berlin songs ------------------------------------------------------------------ Voxers-At-Large: Your Psycho Fiends Network ------------------------------------------------------------------ From khare@pest.w3.org Wed Dec 27 19:48:57 1995 Content-Type: text/plain Mime-Version: 1.0 (NeXT Mail 3.3risc v118.3) To: FoRK@xent.w3.org Subject: From Eve: a 12-days-of-christmas oldie Cc: schooler@cs.caltech.edu Reply-To: khare@w3.org Content-Length: 1623 > A rendition of "The Politically Correct 12 Days of Christmas" > > "On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my > potential-acquaintance-abuse-survivor gave to me: > > TWELVE males reclaiming the inner warrior through ritual drumming; > > ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of > members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for > in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a > note...); > > TEN melanin-deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal > ruling class system leaping; > > NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression; > > EIGHT economically disadvantaged but still virginal Gyno-Americans > stealing milk products from enslaved Bovine-Americans; > > SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands; > > SIX enslaved fowl-Americans producing stolen nonhuman animal products; > > FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic > incarceration; > > (NOTE: After a member of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to > throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and > partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid > further animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package as > been revised.) > > FOUR hours of recorded whale songs; > > THREE deconstructionist poets; > > TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree > carcasses; > > and a Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree. From gordoni@acid.base.com Thu Dec 28 09:26:40 1995 Subject: (fwd) Merry Christmas! (fwd) To: adam at xent dot com, khare@w3.org Cc: blaise@base.com, tclayton@eng.sun.com X-Life: I'm all in favor of killing the TVs. -- mrm X-Web: http://www.base.com/gordoni/gordoni.html X-Mailer: ELM [version 2.4 PL23] Content-Type: text Content-Length: 9122 Network Working Group B. Hancock Request for Comments: 1882 Network-1 Software and Technology, Inc. Category: Informational December 1995 The 12-Days of Technology Before Christmas Status of this Memo This memo provides information for the Internet community. This memo does not specify an Internet standard of any kind. Distribution of this memo is unlimited. Discussion On the first day of Christmas, technology gave to me: A database with a broken b-tree (what the hell is a b-tree anyway?) On the second day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Two transceiver failures (CRC errors? Collisions? What is going on?) And a database with a broken b-tree (Rebuild WHAT? It's a 10GB database!) On the third day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Three French users (who, of course, think they know everything) Two transceiver failures (which are now spewing packets all over the net) And a database with a broken b-tree (Backup? What backup?) On the fourth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Four calls for support (playing the same Christmas song over and over) Three French users (Why do they like to argue so much over trivial things?) Two transceiver failures (How the hell do I know which ones they are?) And a database with a broken b-tree (Pointer error? What's a pointer error?) Hancock Informational [Page 1] RFC 1882 12-Days of Technology Before Christmas December 1995 On the fifth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Five golden SCSI contacts (Of course they're better than silver!) Four support calls (Ever notice how time stands still when on hold? Three French users (No, we don't have footpedals on PC's. Why do you ask?) Two transceiver failures (If I knew which ones were bad, I would know which ones to fix!) And a database with a broken b-tree (Not till next week? Are you nuts?!?!) On the sixth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Six games a-playing (On the production network, of course!) Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean "not terminated!") Four support calls (No, don't transfer me again - do you HEAR? Damn!) Three French users (No, you cannot scan in by putting the page to the screen...) Two transceiver failures (I can't look at the LEDs - they're in the ceiling!) And a database with a broken b-tree (Norway? That's where this was written?) On the seventh day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Seven license failures (Expired? When?) Six games a-playing (Please stop tying up the PBX to talk to each other!) Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean I need "wide" SCSI?) Four support calls (At least the Muzak is different this time...) Three French Users (Well, monsieur, there really isn't an "any" key, but...) Two transceiver failures (SQE? What is that? If I knew I would set it myself!) And a database with a broken b-tree (No, I really need to talk to Lars - NOW!) Hancock Informational [Page 2] RFC 1882 12-Days of Technology Before Christmas December 1995 On the eighth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Eight MODEMs dialing (Who bought these? They're a security violation!) Seven license failures (How many WEEKS to get a license?) Six games a-playing (What do you mean one pixel per packet on updates?!?) Five golden SCSI contacts (Fast SCSI? It's supposed to be fast, isn't it?) Four support calls (I already told them that! Don't transfer me back - DAMN!) Three French users (No, CTL-ALT-DEL is not the proper way to end a program) Two transceiver failures (What do you mean "babbling transceiver"?) And a database with a broken b-tree (Does anyone speak English in Oslo?) On the ninth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Nine lady executives with attitude (She said do WHAT with the servers?) Eight MODEMs dialing (You've been downloading WHAT?) Seven license failures (We sent the P.O. two months ago!) Six games a-playing (HOW many people are doing this to the network?) Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean two have the same ID?) Four support calls (No, I am not at the console - I tried that already.) Three French users (No, only one floppy fits at a time? Why do you ask?) Two transceiver failures (Spare? What spare?) And a database with a broken b-tree (No, I am trying to find Lars! L-A-R-S!) Hancock Informational [Page 3] RFC 1882 12-Days of Technology Before Christmas December 1995 On the tenth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Ten SNMP alerts flashing (What is that Godawful beeping?) Nine lady executives with attitude (No, it used to be a mens room? Why?) Eight MODEMs dialing (What Internet provider? We don't allow Internet here!) Seven license failures (SPA? Why are they calling us?) Six games a-playing (No, you don't need a graphics accelerator for Lotus! ) Five golden SCSI contacts (You mean I need ANOTHER cable?) Four support calls (No, I never needed an account number before...) Three French users (When the PC sounds like a cat, it's a head crash!) Two transceiver failures (Power connection? What power connection?) And a database with a broken b-tree (Restore what index pointers?) On the eleventh day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Eleven boards a-frying (What is that terrible smell?) Ten SNMP alerts flashing (What's a MIB, anyway? What's an extension?) Nine lady executives with attitude (Mauve? Our computer room tiles in mauve?) Eight MODEMs dialing (What do you mean you let your roommate dial-in?) Seven license failures (How many other illegal copies do we have?!?!) Six games a-playing (I told you - AFTER HOURS!) Five golden SCSI contacts (If I knew what was wrong, I wouldn't be calling!) Four support calls (Put me on hold again and I will slash your credit rating!) Three French users (Don't hang your floppies with a magnet again!) Two transceiver failures (How should I know if the connector is bad?) And a database with a broken b-tree (I already did all of that!) Hancock Informational [Page 4] RFC 1882 12-Days of Technology Before Christmas December 1995 On the twelfth day of Christmas, technology gave to me: Twelve virtual pipe connections (There's only supposed to be two!) Eleven boards a-frying (What a surge suppressor supposed to do, anyway?) Ten SNMP alerts flashing (From a distance, it does kinda look like XMas lights.) Nine lady executives with attitude (What do you mean aerobics before backups?) Eight MODEMs dialing (No, we never use them to connect during business hours.) Seven license failures (We're all going to jail, I just know it.) Six games a-playing (No, no - my turn, my turn!) Five golden SCSI contacts (Great, just great! Now it won't even boot!) Four support calls (I don't have that package! How did I end up with you!) Three French users (I don't care if it is sexy, no more nude screen backgrounds!) Two transceiver failures (Maybe we should switch to token ring...) And a database with a broken b-tree (No, operator - Oslo, Norway. We were just talking and were cut off...) Security Considerations Security issues are not discussed in this memo. Author's Address Bill Hancock, Ph.D. Network-1 Software & Technology, Inc. DFW Research Center 878 Greenview Dr. Grand Prairie, TX 75050 EMail: hancock@network-1.com Phone: (214) 606-8200 Fax: (214) 606-8220 Hancock Informational [Page 5] From seppley@alumni.caltech.edu Thu Jan 4 11:13:32 1996 Comments: Authenticated sender is To: diana@alumni.caltech.edu, adam at xent dot com Subject: programming carol Priority: normal X-Mailer: Pegasus Mail for Windows (v2.23) (To Be Sung To The 12 Days Of Christmas) 1. For the first bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: See if they can do it again. 2. For the second bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 3. For the third bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 4. For the fourth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 5. For the fifth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 6. For the sixth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 7. For the seventh bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 8. For the eighth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 9. For the ninth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 10. For the tenth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Change the documentation Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 11. For the eleventh bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Say it's not supported Change the documentation Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. 12. For the twelfth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me: Tell them it's a feature Say it's not supported Change the documentation Blame it on the hardware Find a way around it Say they need an upgrade Reinstall the software Ask for a dump Run with the debugger Try to reproduce it Ask them how they did it and See if they can do it again. ---Steve (Steve Eppley seppley@alumni.caltech.edu) From owner-voxers-at-large@USA.NET Fri Jan 5 18:40:37 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: qnx.com: Host localhost didn't use HELO protocol X-Mailing-List: <0xdeadbeef@substance.abuse.blackdown.org> archive/latest/744 X-Loop: 0xdeadbeef@substance.abuse.blackdown.org Reply-To: VOXERS-AT-LARGE@usa.net Sender: Voxers At Large Comments: RFC822 error: RESENT-DATE field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. Comments: RFC822 error: RESENT-FROM field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. Comments: RFC822 error: RESENT-MESSAGE-ID field duplicated. Last occurrence was retained. Comments: Resent-From: Matthew Cable Comments: Originally-From: glen mccready Subject: Grandpa's Christmas Fruitcake Recipe To: Multiple recipients of list VOXERS-AT-LARGE Forwarded-by: bostic@bsdi.com (Keith Bostic) Forwarded-by: John Kunze Forwarded-by: rsr@violet.berkeley.edu Grandpa's Christmas Fruitcake Recipe You'll need the following: a cup of water, a cup of sugar, four large brown eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown, sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whiskey. Sample the whiskey to check for quality. Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again. To be sure it's the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again. Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Beat two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the tuner. If the fired druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whiskey. Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find. Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out the window. Check the whiskey again and go to bed. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Voxers-At-Large: Content Probably Banned In Some Country Somewhere ------------------------------------------------------------------- From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Thu Apr 4 05:08:29 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f To: lotd@world.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Thu, Apr 04 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: lotd-owner@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (Lawyer Style)* 'Twas The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof. Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless. Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn." ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/religion/xmas/twas.night.before.christmas ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** Date: Tue, 19 Dec 1995 07:54:43 -0800 From: Robert Oshinsky Subject: A JEWISH CHRISTMAS EVE (pos. offensive to non-Jews) >>>> A JEWISH CHRISTMAS EVE >>>> >>>> 'Twas the night before christmas, and we, being Jews, >>>> My girlfriend and me - we had nothing to do. >>>> The gentiles were home, hanging stockings with care, >>>> Secure in their knowledge St. Nick would be there. >>>> But for us, once the Chanukah candles burned down, >>>> There was nothing but boredom all over town. >>>> The malls and the theaters were all closed up tight; >>>> There weren't any concerts to go to that night. >>>> A dance would have saved us, some ballroom or swing, >>>> But we searched through the papers; there wasn't a thing. >>>> Outside the window sat 2 feet of snow; >>>> With the windchill, they said, it was 15 below. >>>> And while all I could do was sit there a brood, >>>> My girl saved the night and called out: "CHINESE FOOD!" >>>> So we ran to the closet, grabbed hats, mitts and boots - >>>> To cover out heads, our hands and our foots. >>>> We pulled on our jackets, all puffy with down, >>>> And boarded the T bound for old Chinatown. >>>> The train nearly empty, it rolled through the stops, >>>> While visions of wontons danced through our kopfs. >>>> We hopped off at Park Street; the Common was bright >>>> With fresh-fallen snow and the trees strung with lights, >>>> We crept through "The Zone" with its bums and its thugs, >>>> And entrepreneurs selling ladies and drugs. >>>> At last we reached chinatown, rushed through the gate, >>>> Past bakeries, markets, shops and cafes, >>>> In search of a restaurant: "Which one? Let's decide!" >>>> We chose "Hunan Chozer," and ventured inside. >>>> Around us sat others, their platters piled high >>>> With the finest of fine foods their money could buy: >>>> There was roast duck and fried squid, (sweet, sour and spiced,) >>>> Dried beef and mixed veggies, lo mein and fried rice, >>>> Whole fish and moo shi and shrimp chow mee foon, >>>> And General Gau's chicken a ma po tofu... >>>> When at last we decided, and the waiter did call, >>>> We said: "Skip the menu!" and ordered it all. >>>> And when in due time the food was all made, >>>> It came to the table in a sort of parade. >>>> Before us sat dim sum, spare ribs and egg rolls, >>>> And four different soups, in four great, huge bowls. >>>> And chicken wings! Dumplings! and Beef Teriakis! >>>> The courses kept coming from spicy to mild, >>>> And higher and higher toward the ceiling were piled. >>>> And while this went on, we became aware >>>> Every diner around us had started to stare. >>>> Their jaws hanging open, they looked on unblinking; >>>> Some dropped their teacups, some drooled without thinking. >>>> So much piled up, one dish after another, >>>> My girlfriend and I couldn't see one another! >>>> Now we sait there, we two, without proper utensils, >>>> While they handed us something that looked like two pencils. >>>> We poked and we jabbed till our fingers were sore >>>> And half of our dinner wound up on the floor. >>>> We tried - how we tried - but, said truth to tell, >>>> Ten long minutes later and still hungry as hell, >>>> We swallowed our pride, feeling vaguely like dorks, >>>> And called to our waiter to bring us two forks. >>>> We fressed and we feastered, we slurped and we munched; >>>> We noshed and we supped, we breakfast'd and lunched. >>>> We ate till we couldn't and drank down our teas >>>> And barely had room for our fortune cookies. >>>> But my fortune was perfect; it summed up the mood >>>> When it said: "Pork is kosher, when its in Chinese food." >>>> And my girlfriend - well... she got a real winner; >>>> Her's said: "Your companion will pay for the dinner." >>>> Our bellies were full and at last it was time >>>> To travel back home and write some bad rhyme >>>> Of our Chinatown trek (and to privately speak >>>> About trying to refine our chopstick technique). >>>> The MSG spun round and round in our heads, >>>> And we tripped and we laughed and gaily we said, >>>> As we carried our leftovers home through the night: >>>> "Good Yom Tov to all - and to all a Good Night!" From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Thu May 2 05:20:30 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: Processed from queue /usr/spool/mq/8 To: lotd@world.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Thu, May 02 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: lotd-owner@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: A Final Visit From Saint Nick* A Final Visit From Saint Nicholas _________________________________ 'Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear-- that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling; the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling; I opened a beer as I watched TV, where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie; the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should; or else they were stoned, which was almost as good. While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss 'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us; "Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist; "Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!" When out in the yard came a deafening blare; 'twas our burgler alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?" I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night, and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight. Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense was caught in our eight foot electrified fence; he called out, "I'm Santa! I bring you no malice!" Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!" But, lo, as his pressence grew clear to me, I saw in the glare that it just might be he! called off our doberman clawing his sleigh and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok." I led him inside where he slumped in a chair, and he poured out the following tale of dispair; "On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling, but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling." "You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year, and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer; although I would like to continue to use them, the wildlife officials believe I abuse them." "To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky; I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections, and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections." "Last April my workers came forth with demands, and I soon had a general strike on my hands; I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves, so the missus and I did the work ourselves." "And then, later on, came additional trouble-- an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble; my Allstate insurance was worthless, because they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause." "And after that came an I.R.S audit; the government claimed I was out to defraud it; they finally nailed me for 65 grand, which I paid through the sale of my house and my land." "And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air; not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread, taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead." "My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings, I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings. And if you should ask why I'm glowing tonight, it's from flying too close to a nuclear site." He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh, and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye; "I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat, but I fear that today I've become obsolete." He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh, and these last words he spoke as he went on his way; "no longer can I do the job that's required; if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'". ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/religion/xmas/a.final.visit.from.saint.nick ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Sat May 4 04:25:15 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: Processed from queue /usr/spool/mq/8 To: lotd@world.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Sat, May 04 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: lotd-owner@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: Deck the Halls (PC Style)* Deck the halls with boughs of non-endangered plant species Fa la la la la, la la la la 'Tis the season to be self-actualizing, Fa la la la la, la la la la Don we now our alternate-lifestyle apparel Fa la la la la, la la la la Toll the ancient non-denominational-winter-solstice-holiday carol Fa la la la la, la la la la See the blazing log of non-denominational-winter-solstice-holiday-non- endangered wood before us, Fa la la la la, la la la la Play the harp without unnecessary brutality and join the chorus Fa la la la la, la la la la Sing we emotionally stable in a collective group effort, Fa la la la la la la la la Heedless of the weather patterns despite the effects of global warming, Fa la la la la, la la la la Fast away the mature year passes Fa la la la la la la la la Hail the new year without any implicit ageism, ye persons Fa la la la la la la la la Dance in a non-hierarchical manner in merry measure, Fa la la la la la la la la While I tell of non-materialistic, non-denominational-winter-solstice-holiday treasure, Fa la la la la, la la la la ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/religion/xmas/pc.deck.the.halls ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Sun May 26 04:12:52 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: Processed from queue /usr/spool/mq/8 To: lotd@world.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Sun, May 26 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: lotd-owner@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: The Price Of True Love* "PRICE OF TRUE LOVE The price of giving all the items in the song "The 12 Days of Christmas" went up less than 2 percent in 1994, under the current annual rate of inflation of 2.6 percent. 1 Partridge in a pear tree $35 2 Turtle doves 50 3 French hens 15 4 Calling birds 280 5 Gold rings 450 6 Geese-a-laying 150 7 Swans-a-swimming 7,000 8 Maids-a-milking 34 9 Pipers piping 2,607 10 Ladies dancing 3,013 11 Lords-a-leaping 1,109 12 Drummers drumming 1,201 Total to give gifts once: $15,944 Total to give as in song*: $73,345 *Singing the song in its entirety results in 364 presents: 12 partridges, 36 calling birds, 40 maids, etc. SOURCE: PNC Bank Corp. This article is from the Philadelphia Inquirer (December 4th, 1994): ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/religion/xmas/the.price.of.true.love ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Sat Jun 8 04:06:31 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: Processed from queue /usr/spool/mq/8 To: lotd@world.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Sat, Jun 08 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: owner-lotd@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (Lawyer Style)* 'Twas The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof. Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless. Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn." ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/religion/xmas/twas.night.before.christmas ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Tue Nov 5 10:32:06 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: Processed from queue /usr/spool/mq/8 To: lotd@europe.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Tue, Nov 05 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: owner-lotd@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: A Visit From a Silicon Imposter* A Visit from a Silicon Impostor A few weeks before Christmas, One Nine Ninety-Four, The whole world was stirring with outrage galore. The shockings related to gross lack of care Whether all had the margin of error to spare. Small companies nestled all snug in their pride That their vision of equal respect had applied. And papa with the trackball (I, saving my wrist) Had just settled our brains for a game-maybe Myst. When out on the net, in the press, such a clatter And chatter arose! Here is what was the matter: Away to the window I flew to find out What Tom Nicely's discovery was all about. Those ads on the TV and ads in the mags Gave the luster of payday to all of their brags When what to my wondering eye it appears That the floating point error "news" is in arrears. The error is bad. The arrears part is sick, So I knew in a moment it wasn't Saint Nick! More rapid than eagles, supporters they came. And he whistled and shouted and called them by name. On PB, on Gateway, on Tandy and Acer, On Compaq, on Stupid, on Dell and Fujitsu To the top of the boards to the top of The Wall Now stash away, stash away, stash away all! As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly When they meet with an obstacle reach to the sky So up to the analysts his coarsers flew. It remains to be seen what they further will do. And then in a moment I heard in the snow The prancing and pawing of each CEO. As I drew in my head and was turning around Down the chimney this chipmaker came with a bound. He was dressed all in gold from his head to his foot, Reputation all tarnished with greedy pursuit He had a broad grin like an open ellipse And a confident stance poised to shoot from both hips With a wink of an eye and a shake of his head He tried vainly to say I had nothing to dread. With arrogant zeal he went straight to his work To fill the stock holdings, then rose, (what a jerk) And laying a finger aside of his nose As much as to say, "You don't count." Then he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle And away they all flew like the cone of a missile But I'm here to exclaim, if Intel is inside, Happy Christmas to you, Just don't try to divide! Pat McCornack ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/computer/pentium/visit.from.silicon.imposter ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From lotd-approval@europe.std.com Sun Nov 24 02:29:38 1996 X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: daemon set sender to lotd-approval using -f X-Authentication-Warning: europe.std.com: Processed from queue /usr/spool/mq/8 To: lotd@europe.std.com Subject: Laugh Of The Day - Sun, Nov 24 1996 Sender: lotd-approval@world.std.com Reply-To: owner-lotd@world.std.com ****************************************************************************** Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/) ****************************************************************************** *File Description: A Redneck Christmas* A Redneck Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor. His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle, And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle. His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care, And therefore there was a foul stench in the air. That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys. There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11; Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7. John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3: The twins were both girls So they let them be. They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt, Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk. They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall. There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all. Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll! The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw." Maw was expecting And needed her sleep, So out they crept out the door Without making a peep. They all looked around, and then they all spit. The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?" Bubba just stared; He could not say a word. This was just like all of The stories he'd heard. It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin' But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'! They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake That would have resulted in venison steak. Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!" That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys. The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain, And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name. "Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe! Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!" "Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall! Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!" The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up, And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup. Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys. Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys. Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die. He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry. The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry. Just as the reindeer Got into the air, The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care. He was busy lookin' At all his new toys. Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys: "Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right. That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might." But Maw was OK, And the girls were too. They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new. And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick, But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick! Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too. And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you! ****************************************************************************** LAUGH OF THE DAY - A service of LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/). To unsubscribe, send e-mail to majordomo@world.std.com, with text: unsubscribe lotd email_address Where "email_address" is the address you used when you subscribed to lotd. For more information about Laugh Of The Day or LaughWEB, send email to: joeshmoe@world.std.com with a SUBJECT header of: info laugh To subscribe to lotd, point your web browser to: http://world.std.com/~joeshmoe/laughweb/lotd_subscribe.html The URL of today's laugh: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/redneck/a.redneck.christmas ****************************************************************************** Warning - Material contained in this document might be considered offensive. Please read our disclaimer: http://www.misty.com/laughweb/laughweb.disclaimer.txt ****************************************************************************** From khare@w3.org Wed Nov 27 10:15:11 1996 To: "FoRK" Subject: Fw: I'm dreaming of a 32-bit Christmas X-Msmail-Priority: Normal X-Priority: 3 X-Mailer: Microsoft Internet Mail 4.70.1155 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit >The Bill Gates Song >------------------- >(to the tune of "The Christmas Song") > >Netscape roasting on an open fire, >Apple begging on its knees, >Photo popping up on Time magazine, >Yes, Bill Gates dreams of days like these! >Everybody knows he's never fully satisfied, >Throws himself behind each task, >World dominion is his company's goal. >Well, hey, is that so much to ask? >He knows the world is in his sway, >We'll buy whatever software he might toss our way, >We'll surf his Internet, watch his TV, >He'll take us anywhere we ask him--for a fee. > >And so we're offering this simple prayer, >To Bill and all his MS grunts: >Since we all follow any standard you write, >Make it good, please, >Make it good, please, >Make it good, please, just once! > > >Gil Amelio's Coming to Town! >---------------------------- >(to the tune of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town") > >You better watch out, >Absurd as it sounds, >'Cause Apple's about >To lose a few pounds-- >Gil Amelio's coming to town! > >He's making a list, >And trimming the rolls >Of projects that missed >Their revenue goals-- >Gil Amelio's coming to town! > >He knows what's losing money, >Like eWorld, PowerTalk . . . >You'd better make your project work >Or prepare to take a walk! > >Though you follow his lead >Right out the back door, >You know he'll succeed-- >He's done it before! >Gil Amelio's coming to town! > > >Microsoft >--------- >(to the tune of "Jingle Bells") > >Nine-tenths of a gig, >Biggest ever seen, >God, this program's big-- >MS Word 15! >Comes on ten CDs, >And requires--damn! >Word is fine, but jeez-- >60 megs of RAM?! > >Oh! Microsoft, Microsoft, >Bloatware all the way! >I've sat here installing Word >Since breakfast yesterday! >Oh! Microsoft, Microsoft, >Moderation, please. >Guess you hadn't noticed: >Four-gig drives don't grow on trees! > > >I'm Dreaming of a Clean System >------------------------------ >(to the tune of "White Christmas") > >I'm dreaming of a clean System, >Something that fits on one CD. >Each component matches, >Not bits and patches, >Unlike 7-5-point-3. > >I'm longing for a dream System, >Small, stable, fast, and trouble-free. >What we want, I think you'll agree, >Is called System 6-point-oh-3! > > >Violent Night >------------- >(to the tune of "Silent Night") > >Silent Mac, broken Mac! >System bombed, screen went black. >Books suggested things; I tried 'em all: >Shift key, desktop file, clean reinstall. >Now my deadline is tight, >This Mac's been silent all night. > >Violent night, horrible night! >Lost my cool, filled with spite, >Threw my Mac through the balcony door >Watched it fall from the 20th floor, >Now I'm sleeping in peace; >Thank God I had it on lease. > > >Prove It's So! >-------------- >(to the tune of "Let It Snow") > >Oh, the papers say Apple's dying, >But before we start good-byeing, >We should call them all up and go, >"Prove it's so! Prove it's so! Prove it's so!" > >They say "Mac OS software's scarcer." >We say, "Read those numbers, there, sir, >Sales continued this year to grow. >There ya go, there ya go, there ya go!" > >When they tell us Win 95 >Made the Mac's famed advantages ebb, >We'll say, "Why, then, do Macs now drive >60 percent of the Web?" > >We can win our PR reversal-- >Make the Mac be universal-- >Though we may have some years to go, >Make it so, make it so, make it so! > > >Happily Addicted to the Web >--------------------------- >(to the tune of "Winter Wonderland") > >Doorbell rings, I'm not list'nin', >From my mouth, drool is glist'nin', >I'm happy--although >My boss let me go-- >Happily addicted to the Web. > >All night long, I sit clicking, >Unaware time is ticking, >There's beard on my cheek, >Same clothes for a week, >Happily addicted to the Web. > >Friends come by; they shake me, >Saying, "Yo, man! >Don't you know tonight's the senior prom?" >With a listless shrug, I mutter, "No, man; >I just discovered letterman-dot-com!" > >I don't phone, don't send faxes, >Don't go out, don't pay taxes, >Who cares if someday >They drag me away? >I'm happily addicted to the Web! > >================================================================== From owner-topfive@news.zdnet.com Wed Dec 4 06:36:32 1996 Comments: Authenticated sender is To: topfive@news.zdnet.com Subject: TopFive -- 12/4/96 -- Signs the Santa at the Mall is Nuts Reply-To: top5@walrus.com Cc: Top.Five.List.Subscribers@walrus1.walrus.com, petebest@newsite.newschool.edu Priority: normal X-Mailer: Pegasus Mail for Windows (v2.42a) Sender: owner-topfive@news.zdnet.com _____________________________________ _________| |________ \ | The Top Five List | / \ | www.topfive.com | / \ | | / \ | Sponsored by Windows Sources | / > | www.wsources.com | < / | | \ / | December 4, 1996 | \ / |_____________________________________| \ /___________) (__________\ The Top 18 Signs the Santa at the Mall is Nuts 18> Shaves head and beard, insists on being called "Santa Kurtz." 17> Tells kids about the comparative kill ratio of the AK-47 over the Daisy Air Rifle. 16> Those nasty chewing tobacco streaks in his beard. 15> Has a complimentary tray of North Pole "Tundra Oysters" ready for the toddlers. 14> After every child's request, asks, "Wouldn't you rather have a nice big bag of clams?" 13> The twinkle in his eye and the twitch of his nose are due to a lack of medication. 12> Every so often, snaps into a Slim Jim and growls, "You've been bad and now you're going down, punk!" 11> Actually enjoys it when small children urinate on his lap. 10> Promises children O.J. will be cleared of all wrongdoing. 9> Caught drinking red wine with fish during break. 8> "Hey kid, bet I can wet my pants faster than you can!" 7> Insists on blowing his nose in children's hair. 6> Despite massive photographic evidence to the contrary, claims to have never worn white gloves or shiny black boots. 5> That snowy beard? Nothin' but nose hair. 4> Answers every child's toy request with "Dream on, pee wee!" 3> When a child wets on his lap, he returns the favor. 2> Instead of a candy cane, gives each kid a pack of Marlboros and a homemade venison pie. and the Number 1 Sign the Santa at the Mall is Nuts... 1> While it's admittedly a nifty trick, blowing smoke rings out of his tracheotomy hole is scaring the hell out of the kiddies. [ This list copyright 1996 by Chris White and Ziff-Davis ] [ *To forward or repost, you must include this section.* ] [ The Top Five List top5@walrus.com www.topfive.com ] Today's Top Five List contributors are: ------------------------------------------------------------- Caroline Gennity, Virginia Beach, VA -- 1, 12 (11th #1) (This ties Caroline with Tony Hill for the most #1 entries.) Rob Seulowitz, New York, NY -- 2 Kermit Woodall, Richmond, VA -- 2 John Hering, Alexandria, VA -- 2 (Hall of Famer) Sterling Smith, Houston, TX -- 3 Bill Muse, Seattle, WA -- 4 Mitch Patterson, Atlanta, GA -- 5 Meredith Ogden, Ithaca, NY -- 6 David W. James, Los Angeles, CA -- 7 Blair Bostick, Alexandria, VA -- 8 Rob Winchell, Arlington, MA -- 9 Jay Allen, Santa Barbara, CA -- 10 Jeffrey House, Detroit, MI -- 11 Ed Smith, Chattanooga, TN -- 13 Tisha Stacey, St. Paul, MN -- 14 Chuck Smith, Woodbridge, VA -- 15 Alan Smithee, Sugar Land, TX -- 16 Lloyd Jacobson, Washington, DC -- 17 Jeff Downey, Raleigh, NC -- 18 Jennifer Ritzinger, Seattle, WA -- Topic Chris White, New York, NY -- List owner/editor ------------------------------------------------------------- Selected from 132 submissions from 47 contributors. See the runners up at our website: www.topfive.com ============================================================ *** Windows Sources Spotlight *** Make Smarter Web Pages Paul Bonner tells you how, at http://www.winsources.com ============================================================ T H E T O P F I V E L I S T Subscriptions: Send mail to Majordomo@news.zdnet.com with "subscribe topfive" or "unsubscribe topfive" in the body. Info (including contributor info): Mail to top5@walrus.com with "INFO" in the *subject* line of the message. To report a sighting of a Top Five List in other media: Mail to top5@walrus.com with "BINGO!" in the *subject*. ============================================================ Ruminations & Ponderances After considerable thought, I have concluded that a Ponderance is merely a Rumination dressed up in fancy clothes. (Sent in by Ed Smith) ============================================================ The Top Five List http://www.topfive.com Sponsored by Windows Sources http://www.wsources.com Date: Tue, 3 Dec 1996 23:33:14 GMT-5 From: "Joe F. Walenciak" Subject: Christmas Poem (not offensive) >A Christmas poem > >'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck... >How to live in a world that's politically correct? >His workers no longer would answer to "Elves". >"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves. >And labor conditions at the north pole >Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul. > >Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety, >Released to the wilds by the Humane Society. >And equal employment had made it quite clear >That Santa had better not use just reindeer. >So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid, >Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid! > >The runners had been removed from his sleigh; >The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A. >And people had started to call for the cops >When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops. >Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened. >His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened." > >And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows, >Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose >And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation, >Demanding millions in over-due compensation. > >So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife, >Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life, >Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz, >Demanding from now on her title was Ms. > >And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion >That making a choice could cause so much commotion. >Nothing of leather, nothing of fur, >Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her. >Nothing that might be construed to pollute. >Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot. >Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise. >Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys. >Nothing that claimed to be gender specific. >Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific. > >No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth. >Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth. >And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden, >Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden. >For they raised the hackles of those psychological >Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological. > >No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt; >Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt. >Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe; >And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away. >> >> >So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed; >He just could not figure out what to do next. >He tried to be merry, tried to be gay, >But you've got to be careful with that word today. >His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground; >Nothing fully acceptable was to be found. > >Something special was needed, a gift that he might >Give to all without angering the left or the right. >A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision, >Each group of people, every religion; >Every ethnicity, every hue, >Everyone, everywhere...even you. >So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth... >"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth." > From owner-topfive@news.zdnet.com Tue Dec 3 06:18:21 1996 Comments: Authenticated sender is To: topfive@news.zdnet.com Subject: TopFive -- 12/3/96 -- Ways to Get a Jump on the Holiday Season Reply-To: Top5@walrus.com Cc: petebest@newsite.newschool.edu Priority: normal X-Mailer: Pegasus Mail for Windows (v2.42a) Sender: owner-topfive@news.zdnet.com _____________________________________ _________| |________ \ | The Top Five List | / \ | www.topfive.com | / \ | | / \ | Sponsored by Windows Sources | / > | www.wsources.com | < / | | \ / | December 2, 1996 | \ / |_____________________________________| \ /___________) (__________\ The Top 15 Ways to Get a Jump on the Holiday Season 15> Be the *first* person in 1996 to mass-forward that naughty version of the "Night Before Christmas" to everyone on the planet with an e-mail account. 14> Shop door-to-door in a Santa suit with an empty sack and a .38 Special. 13> Spend the weekend drunk on egg nog and weeping to "It's a Wonderful Life" just to get it over with. 12> E-mail apologies in advance for your behavior at the upcoming office holiday party. 11> Send away now for your blowup Janet Reno before she resigns and they become collectors' items. 10> That perfect holiday pick-me-up: hot cocoa and amphetamines! 9> Send out that bid on the mistletoe contract for the Army Drill Seargents' Christmas party. 8> Make sure Gore can handle things for a few hours, then declare a state of emergency at Victoria's Secret and do some "personal shopping." 7> Put the Suicide Prevention Hotline in your speed dial to avoid a repeat of last year's drunken New Year's Eve 411 fiasco. 6> This year, spatulas for everyone! 5> Inject lard directly into ass, thus bypassing lengthy digestive processes. 4> Just sit back, turn on the Home Shopping Network, and order the next 20 or 30 items. 3> Practice co-dependent passive-agressive guilt-projecting behavior so you'll be ready for round one of the annual Family Feud. 2> Exchange "favors" with the Wal-Mart cart-boy to get inside info on when the Brut Holiday Gift Sets arrive. and the Number 1 Way to Get a Jump on the Holiday Season... 1> Address box to Miss Pamela Anderson, scrawl "I want you bak huney, (singed) Tommy Lee", add *lots* of postage, strip nude except for Santa hat, climb in, seal firmly from inside, and wait. [ This list copyright 1996 by Chris White and Ziff-Davis ] [ *To forward or repost, you must include this section.* ] [ The Top Five List top5@walrus.com www.topfive.com ] Today's Top Five List contributors are: ------------------------------------------------------------ Alexander Clemens, San Francisco, CA -- 1, 8 (6th #1) Sterling Smith, Houston, TX -- 2, 5 Caroline Gennity, Virginia Beach, VA -- 3, 7 Tisha Stacey, St. Paul, MN -- 3 Boyd Johnson, San Diego, CA -- 4 Rob Seulowitz, New York, NY -- 6 Tony Hill, Minneapolis, MN -- 9 (Hall of Famer) Ed Smith, Chattanooga, TN -- 10 (Rookie!) Chuck Smith, Woodbridge, VA -- 11 Greg Sadosuk, Fairfax, VA -- 12 Greg Pettit, Houston, TX -- 13 Bill Muse, Seattle, WA -- 14 Lloyd Jacobson, Washington, DC -- 15 Steve Hurd, San Ramon, CA -- Topic Chris White, NY, NY -- List owner/editor ------------------------------------------------------------ Selected from 89 submissions from 32 contributors. See the runners up at our website: www.topfive.com ============================================================ *** Windows Sources Spotlight *** Download ShellWizard 95 Pro, and customize your Win 95 desktop, at http://www.winsources.com ============================================================ T H E T O P F I V E L I S T Subscriptions: Send mail to Majordomo@news.zdnet.com with "subscribe topfive" or "unsubscribe topfive" in the body. Info (including contributor info): Mail to top5@walrus.com with "INFO" in the *subject* line of the message. To report a sighting of a Top Five List in other media: Mail to top5@walrus.com with "BINGO!" in the *subject*. ============================================================ Ruminations & Ponderances I think probably the best place to be during an earthquake would be bungie-jumping. (Thanks to Andrea Judson) ============================================================ The Top Five List http://www.topfive.com Sponsored by Windows Sources http://www.wsources.com A Christmas Poem by Paul Gilmartin Eggnog, tinsel, falling snow Buttered rum and mistletoe Christmas trees and hanging lights The sound of carolers fills the night Shopping hours long and hard Visa phones and cancels card Unpaid bills and mounting debts Family gathers; depressions sets Drinking starts, harsh words are said Dysfunction rears its yuletide head Argument turns to shovin' Drunken brother punches cousin Tree tips over, popping lights Curtains catch, house ignites No one hears the reindeer cries Wedged in chimney, Santa dies Though he kicked and did perspire His chestnuts roasted on an open fire. From owner-tftd-l@tamu.edu Mon Dec 16 02:12:30 1996 Approved-By: Dan Galvin Reply-To: Dan Galvin Sender: Thought For The Day Subject: Thought for Monday, Dec 16, 1996 To: Multiple recipients of list TFTD-L Golden Oldie Urgent: Famous Reindeer Terminated The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole. Streamlining is due to the North Pole's loss of dominance of the season's gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share. He could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture. The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has received unfavorable press. I am pleased to inform you that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose got that way, not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of year when he is known to be under executive stress. As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary: - The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance; - The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated; - The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French; - The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked; - The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks appear to be in order; - The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one; - The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement; - As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching; - Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps; - Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year; - Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line; We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved. Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing") action is pending. Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number. Happy Holidays! (TFTD received two sightly different versions of this work. Thanks to Vicky and to Bob for sending it.) (actually three now- Thanks Richard) From owner-tftd-l@tamu.edu Wed Dec 18 02:06:04 1996 Approved-By: Dan Galvin Reply-To: Dan Galvin Sender: Thought For The Day Subject: Thought for Wednesday, Dec 18, 1996 To: Multiple recipients of list TFTD-L Golden Oldie The following comes from the files of Greg Grainger. It is long but one is free to stop at any time and experience the gist of the item. -TFTD 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' as written by a technical writer for a firm that does Gov't contracting... 'Twas The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof. Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless. Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn." *** Date: Fri, 12 Dec 1997 16:41:29 PST From: david jeffries Subject: Re: Xmas Poem Question TWEEZE DENIED BEEF WORKER ISTHMUS Tweeze denied beef worker isthmus, winnow Trudy how's, Snot agreed juries during, gnaw Tiffany moss. This talking swear unbided Gemini wit cairn Hint opus scenic (alas!) sinewy dare. Unjelled runner nozzle tools smuggling deer butts Well fissions unshoe kerplunks thence endear huts. Anemometer cur chiffon dyeing mayhap, Adjust subtle warp reins fairy loin winger snap. Winnow taunted launderer roast sachet glitter Ice brine bromide bet deucey woodwinds schemata. Await Tudor widower blue lacking flesh, Door roping tier shatters untrue hump these ash. Demonian depressed often knew felines know Gaffe cholesterol metier due abjects elope. Wane wood tummy wandering ice shittah pear, Vital men etchers lay mandate tidy Rainier. Whittle it whole dolt river salival equipt, Sinewy mom aunt isthmus bee-stain nicked. Mere rabbit-torn evils whose gorses became Any weaseled end shuttered, uncool tomboy maim. "Node azure! No Dunce era! No France urine fixing! Uncommit! And cubit! Andante ran vexing! Toady tipoff deport chew detypify well! Gnaw dish aweigh, dish aweigh, dish aweigh awl!" Asked relieves dot beef forty whiled hurry queen fry, Wind emit wooden apse stickle, mountie-desk eye, Sew-up two-deep how stop duck horsers dubloon, Witty slave fallow toils, ascend nickel loss due. Ant tending at weakling - why hurt honor roof? A brain sinning Boeing effete shiney huff. Aside ruin mayhap untwist darning neuron Bounding gym knee-scent knick (alas!) game winning pound. Iwis tressed woolen furze promise etuis food, Anus closed whorled varnished wood asses in suits. Abound olived oils (egad!) flunk honor speck, Any luck lockup addler chest (hope?) nimbus peck. Assai Saudi twin calloused temples amore! Exchequer lachryosis, whizz snows locket jury. Estrual litter mouse wash thrown applique beau, Amdahl biered honest Genesis weight hostess know. Distempered ape pie pea yelled tiding is steed, Undies mocha answer cul de sac lackey reed. Egad! Abroad fastener litter hound bully Achoo! quaintly left, lacking bull feeling jolly. Iwis champion blimp -- arrayed chilly wool delve, Any left whinney sow hymn, enspied off Moselle. An oink office sigh unto whist office hood Swoon gamey tonneau ahead knitting two tread. Ease poke naught award, Beduoin strayed duets orc, Infield eldest tuggings; interned witty chert, End lioness fanger a sight office gnus, Ant gibbon unknot, upon chimpanzee rows. Hasp Rangoon is lay, due esteem guava wistful, Ending weight day elf loo, lacking town ova tassle; Buddy herding explain air hedge rowboat design, "Hopping rich musty woolen due awl incondite!" *** 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' as written by a technical writer for a firm that does Gov't contracting... 'Twas The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof. Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless. Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn." *** Santa was very cross. It was Christmas Eve and NOTHING was going right. Mrs. Claus had burned all the cookies. The elves were complaining about not getting paid for the overtime they had while making the toys. The reindeer had been drinking all afternoon and were dead drunk. To make matters worse, they had taken the sleigh out for a spin earlier in the day and had crashed it into a tree. Santa was furious. "I can't believe it! I've got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours - all of my reindeer are drunk, the elves are on strike and I don't even have a Christmas tree! I sent that stupid Little Angel out HOURS ago to find a tree and he isn't even back yet! What am I going to do?" Just then, the Little Angel opened the front door and stepped in from the snowy night, dragging a Christmas tree. He says "Yo, fat man! Where do you want me to stick the tree this year?" And thus the tradition of angels atop the Christmas trees came to pass........ *** Case Report: Unique Case of Aerial Sleigh-Borne Present-Deliverer's Syndrome Source: North Pole Journal of Medicine, vol 1 no.1, December 1997 Author: Dr. Iman Elf, M.D. On January 2, 1997, Mr. C, an obese, white caucasian male, who appeared approximately 65 years old, but who could not accurately state his age, presented to my family practice office with complaints of generalized aches and pains, sore red eyes, depression, and general malaise. The patient's face was erythematic, and he was in mild respiratory distress, although his demeanor was jolly. He attributed these symptoms to being "not as young as I used to be, HO! HO! HO!", but thought he should have them checked out. The patient's occupation is delivering presents once a year, on December 25th, to many people worldwide. He flies in a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer, and gains access to homes via chimneys. He has performed this work for as long as he can remember. Upon examination and ascertaining Mr. C's medical history, I have discovered what I believe to be a unique and heretofore undescribed medical syndrome related to this man's occupation and lifestyle, named Aerial Sleigh-Borne Present-Deliverer's Syndrome, or ASBPDS for short. Medical History: Mr. C. admits to drinking only once a year, and only when someone puts rum in the eggnog left for him to consume during his working hours. However, I believe his bulbous nose and erythematic face may indicate long-term ethanol abuse. He has smoked pipe tobacco for many years, although workplace regulations at the North Pole have forced him to cut back to one or two pipes per day for the last 5 years. He has had no major illnesses or surgeries in the past. He has no known allergies. Travel history is extensive, as he visits nearly every location in the world annually. He has had all his immunizations, including all available vaccines for tropical diseases. He does little exercise and eats large meals with high sugar and cholesterol levels, and a high percentage of calories derived from fat (he subsists all year on food he collects on Dec. 25, which consists mainly of eggnog, Cola drinks, and cookies). Family history was unavailable, as the patient could not name any relatives. Physical Examination and Review of Systems, With Social/Occupational Correlates: The patient wears corrective lenses, and has 20/80 vision. His conjunctivae were hyperalgesic and erythematous, and Fluorescein staining revealed numerous randomly occurring corneal abrasions. This appears to be caused by dust, debris, and other particles which strike his eyes at high velocity during his flights. He has headaches nearly every day, usually starting half way through the day, and worsened by stress. He had extensive ecchymoses, abrasions, lacerations, and first-degree burns on his head, arms, legs, and back, which I believe to be caused mainly by trauma experienced during repeated chimney descents and falls from his sleigh. Collisions with birds during his flight, gunshot wounds (while flying over the Los Angles area) and bites consistent with reindeer teeth may also have contributed to these wounds. Patches of leukoderma and anesthesia on his nose, cheeks, penis, and distal digits are consistent with frostbite caused by periods of hypothermia during high-altitude flights. He had a blood pressure of 150/95, a heart rate of 90 beats/minute, and a respiratory rate of 40. He has had shortness of breath for several years, which worsens during exertion. He has no evidence of acute cardiac or pulmonary failure, but it was my opinion that he is quite unfit due to his mainly sedentary lifestyle and poor eating habits which, along with his stress, smoking, and male gender, place him at high risk for coronary heart disease, myocardial infarction, emphysema and other problems. Blood tests subsequently revealed higher-than-normal CO levels, which I attribute to smoke inhalation during chimney descent into non-extinguished fireplaces. He has experienced chronic back pain for several years. A neurological examination was consistent with a mild herniation of his L4-L5 or L5-S1 disk, which probably resulted from carrying a heavy sack of toys, enduring bumpy sleigh rides, and his jarring feet-first falls to the bottom of chimneys. Mr. C. had a swollen left scrotum, which, upon biopsy, was diagnosed as scrotal cancer, the likely etiology being the soot from chimneys. Psychiatric Examination and Social/Occupational Correlates: Mr. C's depression has been chronic for several years. I do not believe it to be organic in nature-rather, he has a number of unresolved issues in his personal and professional life which cause him distress. He exhibits long-term amnesia, and cannot recall any events more than 5 years ago. This may be due to a repressed psychological trauma he experienced, head trauma, or, more likely, the mythical nature of his existence. Although the patient has a jolly demeanor, he expresses profound unhappiness. He reports anger at not receiving royalties for the widespread commercial use of his likeness and name. Although he reports satisfaction with the sex he has with his wife, I sense he may feel erotic impulses when children sit on his lap, and I worry he may have pedophillic tendencies. This could be the subconscious reason he employs only vertically-challenged workers ("elfs"), but I believe his hiring practices are more likely a reaction formation due to body-image problems stemming from his obesity. The patient feels annoyed and worried when he is told many people do not believe he exists, and I feel this may develop into a serious identity crisis if not dealt with. He reports great stress over having to choose which gifts to give to children, and a feeling of guilt and inadequacy over the decisions he makes as to which children are "naughty" and "nice". Because he experiences total darkness lasting many months during winter at the North Pole, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) may be a contributor to his depression. Treatment and Counselling: All Mr. C's wounds were cleaned and dressed, and he was prescribed an antibiotic ointment for his eyes. A referral to a physiotherapist was made to ameliorate his disk problem. On February 9, a bilateral orchidectomy was performed, and no further cancer has been detected as of this writing. He was counselled to wash soot from his body regularly, to avoid lit-fire chimney descents where practicable, and to consider switching to a closed-sleigh, heated, pressurized sleigh. He refused suggestions to add a helmet and protective accessories to his uniform. He was put on a high-fibre, low cholesterol diet, and advised to reduce his smoking and drinking. He has shown success with these lifestyle changes so far, although it remains to be seen whether he will be able to resist the treats left out for him next Christmas. He visits a psychiatrist weekly, and reports doing "Not too bad, HO! HO! HO!". Conclusions: Physicians, when presented with aerial sleigh-borne present-deliverers exhibiting more than a few of these symptoms, should seriously consider ASBPDS as their differential diagnosis. I encourage other physicians with access to patients working in allied professions (e.g.Nightly Teeth-Purchasers or Annual Candied Egg Providers) to investigate whether analogous anatomical/ physiological/ psychological syndromes exist. The happiness of children everywhere depend on effective management of these syndromes. *** >>> "The Xmas-Files" >>> >>> by Frank Cammuso and Hart Seely >>> >>> 57 Elm Street >>> Bethlehem, Pa. >>> 11:51 p.m., December 24th. >>> >>> "We're too late! It's already been here." >>> >>> "Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing." >>> >>> "Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, >>> mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; >>> stockings hung by the chimney, with care." >>> >>> "You really think someone's been here?" >>> >>> "Someone, or something." >>> >>> "Mulder, over here--it's a fruitcake." >>> >>> "Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal." >>> >>> "It's O.K. There's a note attached: 'Gonna find out who's naughty and >>> nice.'" >>> >>> "It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list." >>> >>> "Who? What are you talking about?" >>> >>> "Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel >>> at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once a year, >>> near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the >>> heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged >>> chunks of anthracite." >>> >>> "But that's legend, Mulder--a story told by parents to frighten >>> children. Surely you don't believe it?" >>> >>> "Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this >>> gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was >>> massive--and in a hurry." >>> >>> "It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been >>> completely drained." >>> >>> "It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse." >>> >>> "But why would they leave it milk and cookies?" >>> >>> "Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding." >>> >>> "But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and >>> windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry." >>> >>> "Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace." >>> >>> "Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed on >>> the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely >>> six inches wide. Nothing could get down there." >>> >>> "But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at >>> once?" >>> >>> "You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?" >>> >>> "Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child >>> my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white shanks of >>> fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red >>> and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I >>> looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father." >>> >>> "Impossible." >>> >>> "I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a >>> Mr. Potato Head, Scully. It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato Head!" >>> >>> "I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of >>> physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars >>> across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. >>> Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If >>> this gets out, they'll close the X-files." >>> >>> "Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when >>> you're awake." >>> >>> "But we have no proof." >>> >>> "Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys >>> in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a >>> Condition Red." >>> >>> "But that was a meteor shower." >>> >>> "Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished >>> from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody--not even the >>> zookeeper--was told about it. The government doesn't want people to >know >>> about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist >>> the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday >>> shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let >>> the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. >>> They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night." >>> >>> "Mulder, I--" >>> >>> "Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?" >>> >>> "On the roof. It sounds like ... a clatter." >>> >>> "The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter." >>> ***