Humor Hub


Humor Hub05 Apr 2008 12:39 pm

Spiffy Life Sayings

1. Walking in a mud puddle will spoil
your interview costume. Watch your step!

2. In an interview, really listen. Talking
about your weird Uncle Harry may cost
you the job.

3. If you don’t know where you want
your life to go, don’t ask people to tell
you what to do.

4. Practice what you preach. Just
don’t preach to the choir.

5. Keep being amused by other humans.
They don’t know the answers to life either.

6. When you start your next job, be
alert about finding your next one.

About the Author

Graduate of JFK University’s
Career Development Program
Certified Job & Career Transition Coach
Website: www.doitnowcareers.info
Always a FREE half hour consultation!

Humor Hub06 Dec 2007 03:36 pm

Some who know me suggest I might be a wee bit absentminded at times. I prefer to think of it as simply being actively engaged in processing thoughts; giving the tiny gray cells a good workout. My motto: Don’t hate me because I’m thoughtful.

I must admit to a certain aura of preoccupation at times. However, it is not as severe as the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage seems to think. I just have many things on my mind and at times, I am not fully conscious of my immediate surroundings.

I admit it, but I refuse to accept the thought that I am absent-minded. I always know where my mind is and what it is doing.

Of course, I will accede to certain instances where it might appear on the surface to resemble absent-mindedness, but appearances can be deceiving.

Case in point. Several times when my wife sent me to the grocery store around the corner for a few items (which doesn’t happen often, due to what she calls my absentmindedness) I ended up across town not knowing what I was doing there.

I cannot explain this activity, but it is not empirical evidence that I am absent-minded. It’s just one of those things that happens every once in a while to a person like me.

Sometimes I will meet a friend, and he or she asks why I did not wave back the other day when they saw me. Sheepishly, I admit that I did not see them.

It could happen to anybody.

With this in mind, an incident happened last week bearing explanation.

As it happened, my wife was going to accompany our granddaughter on a school field trip. There was one thing needing attention. Someone needed to pick up our grandson from school that afternoon.

That someone turned out to be me.

In preparation for my “assignment,” my wife lectured me on the necessity of picking up our grandson by 2:30 that afternoon. “It is extremely important,” my wife said to me as I gazed out the window, “that he be picked up no later than 2:30.”

Then she added something that terribly insulted me. She said, emphatically, “Do you think you can remember to do it?”

As far back as I can remember, my memory has served me quite well, thank you. I could not believe she could believe I would forget something that important. It just goes to show how little some people know some other people. I’m not mentioning any names.

The morning of the field trip arrived and I was in fairly good spirits, as I recollect. As my wife went out the door, she threw in my general direction the words, “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30.”

I just smiled a smile, telling her I was in complete charge of my agenda.

Then it happened.

I went into the bathroom to shave and get ready for the day. The first thing I noticed was a piece of paper taped on my mirror with the words in bold print, “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30.” I chuckled as I pulled it off the mirror.

I finished dressing and headed for the kitchen. When I went to pour a cup of coffee there is a piece of paper taped on the coffeepot. “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30.”

I opened the refrigerator door to fix my breakfast and taped inside was a piece of paper. “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30.”

This was getting to be a little ridiculous. Taped on the television screen was another piece of paper. “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30.”

In fact, all over the house were little pieces of paper: “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30.”

I could not believe the love of my life did not trust me with this assignment. I will confess to you, my feelings were just a little bit hurt at this lack of confidence.

You think you know somebody and then they treat you like this. To say I was indignant is to grossly underestimate my feelings at the time.

I took it, however, like the man I am and went about my business for the day.

When I came home for lunch I saw the notes again, which refueled my indignancy, but I refused to let that get me down.

I headed back for my office and tucked in the back of my head the 2:30 appointment.

Back in the office, I busied myself with my work for the day. I must say the work was going extremely well. Atypically, the telephone did not ring once. It was absolutely heaven.

I glanced at my watch and noted that it was 2:55 and congratulated myself with a good day’s work. As I looked at my watch, I had the feeling I was overlooking something. I racked my brain, but nothing came.

Then the telephone rang. As it rang, a light- bulb went on in my head. When I picked up the phone my wife was on the other end and simply said, “Don’t forget to pick up our grandson at 2:30″ and hung up the phone.

A familiar feeling crept into my mind; my goose was cooked and it was well done.

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud. He that handleth a matter wisely shall find good: and whoso trusteth in the Lord, happy is he.” (Proverbs 16:18-20 KJV.)

About the Author

The Reverend James L. Snyder is an award winning author whose writings have appeared in more than eighty periodicals including GUIDEPOSTS. In Pursuit of God: The Life of A. W. Tozer, Snyder’s first book, won the Reader’s Choice Award in 1992 by Christianity Today. Snyder has authored 8 books altogether.

Humor Hub04 Dec 2007 09:34 pm

Five stunning, new integrated mobile phone applications are set to revolutionise the way we communicate globally, while adding a whole new meaning to the word “personal” (subject to operator approval).

The applications have been devised and developed by the world renowned Pevensey Bay Institute for Telecommunications Research in East Sussex, England, helped by prominent Professor Heinz Siebenundfünfzig of the nearby Polegate Institute for Population Studies (annexe), near Eastbourne.

The Institute’s Director, Professor Marc O’Nee, revealed that researchers were determined to solve some of modern life’s most frustrating problems and, in so doing, found that these were, in fact, closely interrelated.

Following months of research in which several of the scientists lived with ordinary members of the public and observed the daily challenges they faced, a remarkably consistent and integrated set of user needs was established.

The new applications were then developed by separate teams working under the direction of the Institute’s head of Product Realisation, the Italian Dr. Salvatore Centotredici, expertly assisted by his American counterpart, originally from Naples, Professor Niccolò Novecentoundici.

Following an invitation by Dr. O’Nee, I spent a day at the Institute seeing how the applications worked individually and when integrated. The remote and somewhat forbidding establishment stands in its own grounds, surrounded by high walls covered in barbed wire. Access is gained only after top level security clearance and the signature of a personal injury disclaimer (well, this is experimental).

I was escorted through the building by two monosyllabic, burly young men in white coats, whom I took to be postgraduate students. The huge product testing area, several hectares in size, is itself constantly observed by what appeared to be other scientists in white coats.

The applications were demonstrated to me individually in the following order.

1. “The Pherophone”

Dr. Centotredici explained, “Modern life is so hectic and people often have to move town for work. As a result romantic attachments can be difficult to form, whatever one’s inclinations. Our team wondered how it could help Cupid’s arrows on their way.”

Based on the function of pheromones, the Pherophone detects when another person emits an airborne chemical message, signalling sexual attraction to the user’s mobile handset.

Just as with music or pictures, smells can be analysed, encoded and stored digitally. In this case, the owner’s own pheromone signature, or smell, is initially stored digitally on his or her handset.

Using a discrete attachment that looks strikingly like a pair of tiny nostrils attached to the side of the phone, the hardware and software can detect whether the person standing nearest the phone will be romantically compatible with the owner.

Various grades of attraction can be depicted using text or pictures. For example, the strongest favourable match results in the display on screen of pictures of trains going through tunnels and of rockets exploding.

Conversely the detection of an incompatible stranger causes a picture to be displayed of a divorce hearing and an estimate indicating the eventual financial cost to the user of such a relationship. This can be adjusted using global positioning satellite technology to local currency.

Sound alerts are under review as they can cause problems. For example, loud ring tones playing Verdi’s “La donna è mobile” (favourable) or Elton John’s “The bitch is back” (unfavourable) have met with “user resistance” after several violent incidents.

The Pherophone, in fact, does not evaluate physical appearance, only smell, so has to be used with judgement. A more worrying aspect is that, unlike people, the current version does not distinguish between human and animal smells - a fact only discovered during a recent field trip to Wales by one of the single male researchers.

However, the Pherophone does have other uses. It is able, for example, to provide busy executives with a foolproof method of detecting one’s own bad breath before that vital meeting.

The user just breathes in to the tiny plastic nostrils on the side of the device and appropriate images indicating the level of bad breath are displayed. These images range from a dead donkey, indicating terminal halitosis, to a picture of a smiling patient giving a thumbs-up sign after supposedly having received mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from the owner of the phone.

“The Pherophone spells the end for all dating agencies, speed-dating functions, personal advertisements in newspapers and associated web sites”, claimed the Doctor. Possibly.

However, it could also prevent the misinterpretation of other subtle hints and signals I have experienced, as when a lady responds to amorous advances with a firm slap across the face, or with an expression not unlike that shown when sucking a fresh lemon.

2. “The Fearophone”

This application resulted from a misunderstanding on the telephone between the Italian team developing the Pherophone and the Irish Director of the Institute, Dr. Marc O’Nee.

The Director thought the application was intended to detect the level of fear caused to the owner by the nearest stranger. He thought it such a wonderful idea that he tasked a separate development team to work independently to devise a solution by another route should the Italian team have been late (however unlikely that may have been). Thus by accident an entirely new device was created.

Again the phone initially stores data about the owner’s own level of fierceness, physical strength and combativeness. These are given identities, ranging from “Day-old kitten and the runt of the litter at that” to “Genghis Khan”.

The device is then aimed at a nearby stranger to check the level of threat posed and then relevant pictures and text are displayed.

Pointed at various researchers, the device strangely indicated Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”. Reassuringly an image of Bambi also appeared and a video of the shower scene in Hitchcock’s “Psycho”, accompanied by text reading “Run for the hills now and don’t look back!”. The researchers explained this away, somewhat uncomfortably I felt, by saying that testing was “ongoing” and that calibration of the device was not perfect.

At times, apparently due to software conflicts, confusing images of a train travelling through a shower or Bambi standing in a divorce court were displayed, but these were being resolved.

If you think that mobile phone users often miss important events by constantly staring at their phones as if sleep-walking, bear that in mind with this device as there is a slight delay between the detection of the level of danger posed and its depiction on screen. Hence, when threatened with an axe by one of the researchers, all in the spirit of experiment, I was assured, I had to shout, “Hang on, the picture’s just appearing. Ah yes! ‘Psycho-killer’ Excellent! It works”, just as the axe was falling.

The Fearophone’s functionality may be disabled in large companies, as it would quickly identify and resolve all issues of office politics, rendering office life terminally dull and dispensing with the average 37.44% of all work time currently occupied by inter-departmental rivalry.

The next two applications depend on the use of Radio Frequency Identification Device (RFID) tags embedded in everyday objects.

3. “The Styleophone”

Not to be confused with the late 70s “musical” instrument for children, the “Stylophone”.

Researchers noted that lateness for work and missing trains could be reduced for both men and women by 44.74% precisely (a strange, but true, coincidence) by being able quickly to find socks that match and, by extension, entire outfits that look good, especially on those dark winter mornings.

Other benefits would accrue, such as securing that great new job through improved personal appearance, or simply not being laughed at by unkind strangers for an unfortunate combination of colours and textures. (For some reason this last seemed particularly important to the research teams.)

Users could also more readily preserve the will to live by never again having to watch television programmes presented by two vacuous snobs giving “advice” on what not to wear to yet more vapid and unfortunate members of the public.

With this application, pictures of the owner’s face and body, in addition to details of gender, age and weight, are stored in the phone, while RFID tags are stitched in to all the owner’s clothes. As all clothes will shortly carry RFID tags at the point of manufacture to assist stock tracking this will not be an issue in the future.

Several “looks” or preferred appearances are available, from “Work: male, formal”, through “Mutton dressed as lamb” (also known north of Watford as “She’s nowt better than she should be”), to “Trailer trash”. It is also possible to set alternative years in the past.

Thus, one can select, “American male, 1968, full Woodstock”, or “The Singing Nun, 1965″, both favoured at fancy dress parties, or for people about to become rock stars or for those starting a vocation.

The system then uses the RFID tags in the clothes to alert the user when an appropriate garment is located in the owner’s wardrobe (including wigs). This uses proprietary “greentooth” technology developed by Professor Giuseppe Aldenteverdi.

A GPS facility establishes country settings for national dress automatically and suggests closest possible alternatives. While options are limited in certain parts of the world by the range of clothes from which to choose, the application certainly detected the unfortunate clash between my green gabardine left sock and my Campbell tartan right sock - I had had an early start.

4. “The Sod-uphone”

This application addresses a wide range of situations that make modern life stressful when the worst possible thing happens at the worst possible time, also known as “Sod’s Law” (U.S. “Murphy’s Law” and the related U.S device, the “Murph-uphone”).

This application was originally devised by researchers to act in conjunction with pieces of toast to prevent them falling buttered side down, which is a cause of immense irritation and waste of time for people.

In this case, RFID tags were placed in the bread before toasting. After toasting and buttering, the slices of bread were knocked off the laboratory’s work surfaces as nonchalantly and accidentally as possible to simulate conditions they had witnessed in the field.

In mid-flight a “Sod-u” button on the phone is pressed (next to the mute button) and by activating the RFID tag embedded in the toast through a powerful burst of radioactive energy (plutonium-based), the toast always lands buttered side up. Fantastic!

Admittedly the RFID tags are a bit crunchy when eaten and it is best to set the toaster down a notch or two, as the plutonium quickly adds a shade of darkness when the “Sod-u” button is pressed, but otherwise this worked really well, though I did feel somewhat sunburned after a few tests.

The Sod-u application also detects when the owner of the phone is in the bath and automatically invokes call divert to voice mail, initiating the recorded message with, “Sod-u. User in bath. Please call back later”.

Similarly, when the phone’s owner is at the beginning of a romantic evening with a highly compatible partner (as established by the Pherophone) the “Sod-u” button can be used to prevent a drink spilling on to a clean, white shirt by immediately irradiating the drink in mid-fall from the glass.

This does result in the owner wearing a grey shirt, but it definitely cuts cleaning bills and any possible awkwardness is avoided (as long as the romantic couple do not want children).

I certainly did not feel hungry after a few slices of irradiated toast, but my (now-grey) shirt was detected as “incompatible with rest of outfit” by the Styleophone. More on integration later.

5. “The Boppia”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that all men over the age of thirty-five become invisible as potential partners to younger women, unless the men are in possession of a good fortune or vast amounts of power, but preferably both.

Unfortunately, however, this does not prevent the more mature among us from occasionally overindulging in alcohol at weddings and behaving inappropriately as a result, as this reporter is all too aware.

Hence “The Boppia” is designed to avoid the embarrassment caused by uncles to nephews and nieces at weddings when the older members of the party throw themselves around the floor like hand puppets attached to bungee jumping ropes, under the illusion that they are “cool” or “sexy”.

The device is somewhat stringent in operation. Beginning with 50 volts, it supplies electric shocks of steadily increasing intensity to the owner when a certain level of inebriation is detected by the tiny pair of nostrils mentioned in “The Pherophone” application above.

This works in conjunction with the Boppia’s “Prat-o-meter” device (patent pending) that measures the level of uncoordinated and joint-threatening lateral movement made by the owner, while leering inappropriately at much younger female relatives and friends.

It was no hardship for this reporter to test the Boppia, as the consumption of some alcohol was welcome during such an intensive day. It is not a mark of pride for me to say that I reached 550 volts before being forcibly restrained by the postgraduate students who had originally escorted me to the laboratories.

Possible retail opportunities include wedding planners, company Christmas parties and football clubs.

Device Integration

This has proved to be the most challenging task for researchers. While the applications work well individually, it has proved troublesome to ensure safe and predictable integration and, of course, we should never blame the operating system.

It must be admitted that when ten handsets loaded with all five applications were tested simultaneously, the following sights were observed:

- pieces of toast got stuck on a pair of purple flared trousers, as this was deemed “haute couture” by the Stylophone;

- the nearest piece of toast was described by a user’s Pherophone thus, “Marry this woman! She is hot, hot, hot!”.

- a drunken wedding uncle was addressed loudly with the following audio alert from another device, “Bambi, you are a psycho-killer, get away from me and use an exploding train!”;

- an errant sock attached itself most unexpectedly and uncomfortably to the naked appendage of a male researcher;

- a potential romantic partner was zapped by the Sod-uphone’s plutonium-based rays for having industrial-strength halitosis.

As I left the Institute and the researchers returned to their very comfortable rooms, where the walls, by the way, are covered in thick and luxuriously soft fabric, I did feel somewhat disappointed about the level of integration achieved by the new applications.

However, at the very least the phone devices now contain all of the owner’s physical, temperamental and emotional details. Progress indeed!

Testing is ongoing.

New Mobile Applications Shock Market

© Alex MacCaskill November 2005

Please see:

http://www.indefinitearticles.co.uk

Humor Hub28 Nov 2007 07:28 pm

One of my first lessons in precision occurred at the home of my best friend when we were children. We decided it might be fun to rig a zip line across his back yard, stringing some plastic coated rope between two trees about 25 feet apart.

When it came time to experiment to see whether or not the line would hold our weight, we chose my younger brother for the test because he weighed less than the rest of us. We figured if the line would hold him, we could try the next lightest person until we all made it across the divide. My brother balked at taking the maiden run, because the line was about 10 feet off the ground, and there was no padding to cushion his fall if the rope were to break.

To ease his fears, my friend ran into his house and emerged with a throw pillow from his couch, about a foot square, and placed it about mid way between the start point and the finish of the run. Assured by this safety precaution, my little brother grabbed the slide bar and launched. The rope broke under his weight, and he plummeted to the ground, landing precisely on the throw pillow in a seated position. Unfortunately, the pillow did not provide enough cushion for the drop to avoid a solid thump, but we were pleased with our precision in placing the pillow in the right location. After that, we did not have enough rope to try again, so we abandoned our project, satisfied that we had at least learned something about geometry.

Director of Software Concepts
BHO Technologists - LittleTek Center http://home.earthlink.net/~jdir

Humor Hub31 Oct 2007 02:31 pm

Coming soon.

About the Author

None

Humor Hub27 Oct 2007 05:51 pm

I’m still feeling light-headed about my dream last night. I cannot believe it. After waiting for a peaceful sleep for the past couple of weeks and actually enjoying it, I faced a very scary dilemma. I had a dream, no, no, it’s a nightmare. And I’m dreading to sleep later because until now I don’t have the answer to the terrifying question.

I was practically enjoying the calm feeling of my sleep when out nowhere I was standing in the middle of a very very big arena. I was distressed and confused by the sudden change of surroundings. I was starting to be afraid when I heard a thundering sound coming from my back. Ready to shout with all my might, I turned around and my jaw dropped not because of my scream but because of an outmost amazement.

My king, the love of my life, was riding his horse,Brego, and stopped infront of me. Oh, my Aragorn, I cannot believe it. I was about to finally let a scream of delight pass through me when he grabbed my hand and offered the most outrageuos proposal I’ve heard in my whole life. He wanted me to be his queen. At long last, he said, Arwen was out of his life and he came to me because I am the only one his heart desires. Ohhh, what can I say? How can a lady like me answer an offer like that?

I just can’t let my system believe that. Me, the self-proclaimed superstar against Arwen, the most beautiful of all living beings in Middle-earth. And I actually won! Oh yes, my king finally realized that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And that I’m the one that will love him for all eternity.

I was so busy thinking how brave and passionate and full of wisdom my king was that I didn’t see the kiss coming. Yes, the kiss. The most thrilling, the most exciting, the most stimulating kiss I’ve ever had in twenty years of being alive.

He was my king, my real destiny. and I’m so certain about that that I was accepting his proposal when poofff… a figure of a man riding in a hippogriff. This can’t be true. It’s too good to be true. No, no, no, not now!

Buckbeak landed and then came my rebellious lover, my other half, Sirius Black. He came and embraced me fiercely that I momentarily forgot my king. The warmth of Sirius’ body against mine creates friction no one else can imagine, as always. The moments that we had together flashed back in my mind like a hot fluid that’s burning my soul.

Three words he uttered, “You are mine!” and I know that I can never turn my back on him. Now, I am confused, of course I cannot turn my back on my soulmate, what am I thinking?

Yes, I am his only. No one can possess me like the way he had. No one can touch me and make me burn like the way he laways do.

Oh my god, this isn’t happening. No! No! No! I stepped backward, looked at my king’s solemn eyes and my lover’s provocative lips. I can never choose one. I can never let one go!

Hmmm, now I have decided. I’m going to be selfish. I will never let them go. I will be a queen and then a lover, a lover and then a queen.

Nobody can question me. Why?

Because it’s my dream. Ha! Ha! Ha!

About the Author: ohhh, stll dreaming about them.

Source: www.isnare.com

Humor Hub25 Oct 2007 08:59 am

I’m poor. And I’m not ashamed of it. Actually, I’m kind of proud of myself for being poor. It’s an accomplishment that many people will never attain. Some people will go through their whole life and never know what it’s like to experience some of the finer points of poverty like eating ramon noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner 5 days a week. My heart goes out to these types of people. The Fourtunate Ones. People who’ve always had electricity, nice cars, and proper clothing.

I wasn’t always poor. I had to work hard at it. I had to quit several jobs without finding new ones. I had to spend 75% of my paycheck at the bar when I knew my bills would have easily taken 90%. I had to max out credit cards and never pay on them. I had to give money to females that I knew would never pay it back. And most importantly I had to move to a small town where $6.00 and hour is considered ‘good money’.

I didn’t know that I was putting myself in line for poverty while I was doing all these things. I just woke up one day and realized that I couldn’t pay my car note because I only had 11 cents in the bank. And that’s when it hit me: I’m POOR! It took me 25 long years but I finally nose-dived below the poverty line. I was now in the same category as the homeless and welfare recipients. No more was I hindered by riches. I had shed that lifestyle. I got up and fixed myself a mayonaisse sandwich to celebrate. Delicious!

As a poor person I am entitled to certain privledges to which the well-to-do won’t every be privy. I decide haved to list a few:

- Instead of lugging around a wallet full of heavy dollar bills I now pay for important purchases like gasoline and food with spare change that I scavenge up around the

house.

- I get to shop at stores with improperly spelled titles like Sav-A-Lot, Thrif-Ti-Mart, and DisKount King. These stores offer a wide variety of out-dated, slightly damaged merchandise that Wal-Mart shoppers can only dream of.

- I get to drool at resturant commercials on TV because I know I will never be able to afford meals like that again unless a rich relative dies

- I get to wear my friend’s hand-me-down clothes and shoes. This means that I rarely match and my feet ache constantly from wearing shoes that are three sizes too small.

- I get to freely engage in the offical sports of the National Poor People’s Association: begging and borrowing.

- I get to go to bed every night with the comforting thought that if I ever do meet Ms.Right I can’t afford to date her.

I’ll stop there because I see the envy rising to dangerous levels in a few reader’s eyes. These readers probably have steady jobs and nice homes or apartments. Their bills are probably caught up. They probably have an immense wardrobe with properly sized shoes. Their bank account probably never drops below $5,000. I apologize to these readers if my boasting about my impoverished condition has made them feel inferior and totally removed any self-esteem they may have had left. All I can say is that I never meant to be poor. I was just in the right places at the right times. Maybe one day all of you will find yourselves on the Road to Rags as well. Until then you can check in with me if you want to know what it’s like. I’ll be the guy on the side of the interstate off-ramp with the ‘Will Work For Food’ sign. Pull your Mercedes right up and ask me anything. I promise I won’t laugh.

[ Submitted with ArticleSubmitter Pro - http://www.articlesubmitterpro.com]

Timothy Ward has decided to go on a hunger strike until his humor column, ‘I Never Said I Was Normal’, gets over 1000 subscribers. You can help to end his fast by visiting www.timothy-ward.com and signing up. Please hurry, his ribs are already showing.

Humor Hub04 Oct 2007 02:14 pm

We’ve all been there. That long, seemingly endless drought
during which time you get no play. No action. No sweet lovin’.
The dating life is mediocre, and you’ve got no prospects. But as
we’ve proven time and time again, we’re a resourceful bunch.
Many take matters into their own hands. In the Appalachians,
many fall into the arms of a sexy sibling. But there’s a number
of us that decide to try… ‘Friends with benefits.’

Yeah, that old song. You start workin’ your mojo on your
friends. And try to stay friends. And, it usually ends in
disaster.

FWB finds its origins in some breakup many years ago. The guy,
sick of all her crap yet still lusting for her body, voiced a
proposal. An agreement, if you will. Sex without relationship
complications. Totally need-based, not emotion based like what
those other suckers are doing. Just for a little while. It’s the
perfect plan. Kinda like a severance package for his package,
until it finds ‘new employment.’

The mistake didn’t lie in the idea. Because people come up with
stupid ideas every day. And trying to have sex with your ex
isn’t exactly original. The mistake, my friends, is that she
agreed to it. So opened a new loophole for commitment-phobes
everywhere. Sex with no strings. The multiple-night-stand.

The ‘friends with benefits.’

In later years, FWB made way for other dating loophole
innovations like Revenge Sex and the Booty Call. But I digress.

So there you are, still complaining about not being able to find
someone special, but now with a big grin on your face. Why? You
gettin’ sum.

In order for the FWB plan to work, there must be rules in place.
You must both be single. You’re probably not getting any from
anyone else, otherwise you wouldn’t be looking for FWB. You
can’t get emotionally attached, jealous, needy, or any of that
crap. You probably try to keep it a secret, too. And, most of
all, you can’t let it interfere with your (our your friend’s)
dating life. You know what? With all those rules, it starts to
sound an awfully lot like a…uhm…what’s it called? A
relationship. Or worse, a JOB.

Anyway, in theory, it’s like finding a gold mine. Pack up the
wagon, Ma, you’re a free sex 49er. You can’t believe that you’re
the only one who thought of this. No anniversaries to remember,
no hearts and flowers, no explaining where you were Friday
night, you’re in heaven. But like the great gold rush, you never
know when it’s all gonna run out.

Disaster comes into play when one of the two friends in the
agreement is harboring a crush. Only one. And think about it
folks, any friend who would just up and agree to start having
casual yet semi-exclusive sex with you has to have an agenda of
their own. (The fact that they look at you and lick their lips
is a give-away too.) Chances are they not be fully aware of it
themselves. This accounts for 90% of the FWB files. So, when the
drought is over, and the emergency FWB rations can be put away,
that pre-existing crush is enough to cause BIG (yet sudden to
you) jealousy. The casualty? Your platonic, un-awkward, normal
friendship.

That’s assuming you’re good. And compatible in bed.

Which leads to another kind of disaster. What if you don’t click
in bed? What if you chicken out as soon as they get naked? What
if you end up laying there saying ‘what the hell did we just
do?’ What if you can’t finish? What if you can’t even get
started? These are things that start to mess with confidence and
self-esteem. And make for an awkward game of Scrabble next time
you two are hanging out alone. Assuming that you’re even able to
hang out alone after that point.

Then there are the resentment issues. Eventually, someone will
start to feel like the other person’s libido band-aid. Because
sex without all the lovey-dovey relationship-type stuff leaves
you a lot of time to think about what you just did, especially
when your lover just jumped up to play a video game or to call
the guy she’s really interested in.

It’s rare to find someone mature enough to have continuous sex
with someone and not develop feelings for them. It’s even more
rare to find someone who can deal with those feelings if and
when they show up. In the end, you’ve got awkwardness, jealousy,
resentment, and all the other things that can stop a
relationship in its tracks. And guess what, Chachi, a friendship
is a relationship. And it sucks worse than the relationship that
got you into this mess, because you can end up losing a lover
AND a friend.

So in trying to avoid Melrose Place drama, you backpedal your
way into 90210. You’re stuck. You’re alone. And the booty
train’s done left the station without you.

In the end, you ain’t boinkin’ like a rabbit, and you ain’t no
friend o’ mine.

But sometimes, you look over at that other person and realize
that you’re having sex with someone you like to hang out with.
Who likes all the same stuff you do. Who knows all your secrets
and still wants to hang out with you. Sometimes, they realize it
too. Then things work out.

Except in the Appalachians. Dude, she’s your sister. That’s just
nasty.

That’s the rant.

Copyright 2001 by Kwame DeRoche’ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. SUBSCRIBE
FREE! Just e-mail kwamrants-subscribe@yahoogroups.com or visit
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Humor Hub30 Sep 2007 04:16 am

Beware of George Bush, a suspected terrorist. For years now, George Bush has been attempting to instill fear into his fellow Americans. He’s interfered with two free Democratic elections, and concerns are rising that America’s Democracy is rapidly thinning. While spreading Democracy to other nations, George Bush has used up some American Democracy; soon there won’t be any left for the United States. Many American constituents think that he should be spreading peanut butter or jelly overseas, rather than Democracy, which was highly valued by most other American Presidents.

George Bush has been terrorizing the American people ever since his face was first made public, but after his terroristic activity in two separate elections, it’s believed that soon he’ll achieve “Warlord” status. With the help of his accomplices, or cronies as he likes to call them, he’s managed to repeatedly evade capture. It’s believed that he’s getting advice from a former associate who goes by the name of Osama Bin Laden.

Every time George Bush mispronounces a word, it’s believed to be a signal to other terrorists to plant propaganda into the media which would support his wild claims. Bush’s chief adversary is Representative Jack Murtha from Pennsylvania. Jack Murtha is dedicated to fighting for truth, justice, and the American way; Murtha is believed to be a superhero whose DNA has been altered. His super powers include the ability to speak the truth while others in positions of authority remain silent. Jack Murtha has vowed to “rid America of terrorists.” We can only hope that George Bush is at the top of Murtha’s list. By night, Jack is not available for comment due to his superhero activities. His secret identity now public, we must hope that SuperMurtha is not thwarted by the Green Goblin or Doctor Doom until he’s had a chance to secure America’s freedom. By ridding America of George Bush, its greatest enemy, Murtha will show that with great power comes great responsibility. It’s a concept Jack learned from his Uncle Ben long ago, while living with Aunt May, who — ironically — was a Republican at birth.

On some person-on-the-street interviews, one man, Jerry, stated, “I don’t really know why he bothers talking anymore. No one believes him. Sometimes I think I’m watching a weather report forecasting high heat and gusting winds, but once I look at the television, I see that it’s just George Bush making another speech.”

Elaine commented, “Bush’s face looks a little droopy, like Droopy Dog, but his words frighten me terribly. I hope another country will invade and occupy America long enough to end his reign of terror over the American people. He deserves to go on trial for his war crimes, and for taking away our Democracy to give to other nations.”

In a poll, 99% of Americans indicated that being lied to by their President is unacceptable. One percent didn’t mind, and enjoyed directly, indirectly, or discreetly working for President Bush. Fifty percent of the 1% asked if I knew any good lawyers, but walked away, appearing terrified.

Andy Alt
Mental Dimensions Humor Ezine
http://www.mentaldimensions.com/
Warped minds can come here for observational humor, comedy editorials, farce, satire and spoof

Humor Hub20 Sep 2007 10:59 am

Has the PC replaced the dog as man’s best friend?

The rapid development of successive generations of high-speed computer chips has brought with it a bounty of personal amenities and business aids ranging from efficient interactive multimedia games to instantaneous online banking and trading to speedy access of CD data. But this high-tech blessing has come with a high-priced curse — a humanization of and attachment to a machine, hitherto unparalleled in the annals of human history. If the personal computer hasn’t yet replaced the dog as man’s best friend, it’s only because nobody has yet figured out a way to get it to lick your face.

Probably the most compelling factor in the humanization of the PC is its ability to hook up with the Internet. The notion that you can “meet” people for a “chat” while being alone in a room, catapults sociability to a new level - many age-old social mores fall by the wayside.

Gone are the days when you had to get dressed up to make an impression. On the net, you can dress down, slouch in your seat and have a hair-day that makes a thorn bush look divine in comparison, but as long as you know your gigabytes from your zip drives, you’re a mega-hit.

“Quick fingers” no longer has the connotation of a guy getting fresh with his date. On the world wide web, “quick fingers” is the biggest compliment you can pay a guy. A compliment for a woman would be, “The way you think, reminds me of my motherboard.”

One drawback of the online social arena, however, is that you can chat with someone for hours and not even be sure what gender they are. Sort of a throwback to the hippie days.

Although, “My car broke down,” no longer cuts it as an excuse for tardiness, the high-tech counterpart, “My modem broke down,” is even better. Due to a “modem breakdown,” you can not only be late for a meeting or a chat, but also “leave” (disconnect) early. What’s more, you can even leave right in middle of a boring babble - which is the rough equivalent of throwing a boring passenger out of a moving car in middle of the highway. Although, in a car, this may be considered rude behavior, on the net, it could be seen as a social improvement or “cultural upgrade.”

To the delight of many (cheap) guys, a “date” on the world wide web doesn’t cost more than a local phone call. Unless, of course, you want the company of a real human being and decide to actually meet the person you’ve been chatting with. But that sort of defeats the great achievements of modern technology.

What’s more, with your social sphere on the net encompassing literally the entire planet, you may now have to confront problems hitherto unencountered. It used to be bad enough to meet someone who was “wrong” for you. Now you have to contend with meeting someone who is “right” for you, but on the “wrong” side of the globe. How do you deal with this? Do you travel half way around the world just to meet someone?

And what if you fly down to Sidney, Australia, for a date and it turns out you don’t like the person? Do you say, “I have a headache, I’m going back to the airport to lie down?”

Some people take Internet sociability even a step farther — they get married on the net. Such nuptials are rife with nebulous legalities, and should be undertaken only by those who are fully aware of their ramifications.

In an Internet marriage, crashing your mate’s system on a regular basis may be considered spousal abuse. Uploading every time your spouse wants to download can be interpreted as “irreconcilable differences.” If your wife finds you in a chat room with another woman, it could be grounds for divorce, if she can prove you spoke about anything but fiber optic connections and backup utilities.

Then, there are divorce issues that are not yet clearly defined. Upon divorce, does your spouse get half your disk space. If your spouse was granted the websites you created together, do you have visiting rights? If you were promised the floppies in a prenuptial agreement, how easy is it for your spouse to do a flip-flop on the floppies?

These and other such vexing questions should be researched before getting involved in an Internet marriage. You’d be well-advised to consult a high-powered attorney, one who can recite at least fifty-six thousand loopholes per second.

In addition to changing some social customs, the PC has itself become such a powerful object of fixation that some people see it virtually as a member of the family.

One case in point is Bob (this is not his real Internet “handle” - to ensure his privacy, I’m using his real name). Bob went so far as giving his Pentium 3.5 GHz computer a name — Chippy. And for good reason. He says it does more tricks than Poochy. No, Poochy is not his dog. Poochy is his Pentium 2. His dog’s name is Commodore-128, named after an old computer that didn’t do much of anything. By some strange coincidence, his dog knows of 128 places to hide when he hears an intruder.

When Chippy came down with a virus, Bob rushed him to “Lee’s Emergency Room” (a computer shop where many a warranty has expired while waiting for a technician). Being told to take two floppies and call back in the morning, Bob stayed up with Chippy all night, running an anti-virus program called “Chicken Soup.” By the next day, Chippy was doing so well that his built-in tax program was able to demonstrate how you can legally become a Native American and claim your house as a casino.

Unfortunately, another friend of mine, Patricia, didn’t fare so well. Her computer, Meggy, of blessed memory and storage capacity, may her chips rest in peace, met with an untimely demise, many upgrades before its time. One day Meggy was as healthy as a mainframe with six redundant backup systems (the computer equivalent of an ox), the next day her life was zapped out of her by a hideous power surge. It was horrible. I wouldn’t wish it on a VCR.

Losing Meggy after twelve months was particularly painful for Patricia, who had been looking forward to nurturing Meggy through obsolescence. In search of closure, Patricia sued the power company for sixty-four million dollars - one million for every meg of memory she was deprived of. After several years of legal wrangling, she settled out of court for a year’s supply of environment-friendly, natural pulp, glossy inkjet paper. Manufactured, I believe, by Kodak and Pepperidge Farm.

In the final analysis, the key to computer usage is moderation and common sense. Don’t get so attached to your computer that you get emotionally distressed every time your AOL browser says “Goodbye.” Get up for a break once in while - if you look out the window and see the sun expanding into a supernova, you’ve been at your keyboard way too long. Don’t “chat” with anyone whose handle requires periodontal surgery to pronounce. And last, but not least, as soon as tech-support puts you on hold, put your house lights on a timer that turns them on and off every hour or so, so burglars know you’re home.

Josh Greenberger: A computer consultant for over two decades, the author has developed software for such organizations as NASA’s Goddard Institute of Space Studies, AT&T, Charles Schwab, Bell Laboratories and Chase Manhattan Bank. Since 1984, the author’s literary works have appeared in such periodicals as The New York Post, The Daily News, The Village Voice, The Jewish Press, and others. His articles have ranged from humor to scientific to topical events. Visit his site: shopndrop.com

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