There was this male engineer, on a cruise ship in the Caribbean for the first time. It was wonderful, the experience of his life. He was being waited on hand and foot. But it did not last. A hurricane came up unexpectedly. The ship went down almost instantly.
The man found himself, he knew not how, swept up on the shore of an island. There was nothing else anywhere to be seen. No person, no supplies, nothing.
The man looked around. There were some bananas and coconuts, but that was it. He was desperate, and forlorn, but decided to make the best of it. So for the next four months he ate bananas, drank coconut juice and mostly looked to the sea mightily for a ship to come to his rescue.
One day, as he was lying on the beach stroking his beard and looking for a ship, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Could it be true, was it a ship? No, from around the corner of the island came this rowboat. In it was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, or at least seen in four months. She was tall, tanned, and her blond hair flowing in the sea breeze gave her an almost ethereal quality. She spotted him also as he was waving and yelling and screaming to get her attention. She rowed her boat towards him.
In disbelief, he asked, "Where did you come from? How did you get here?" She said, "I rowed from the other side of the island. I landed on this island when my cruise ship sank." "Amazing," he said, "I didn't know anyone else had survived. How many of you are there? Where did you get the rowboat? You must have been really lucky to have a rowboat wash up with you!"
"It is only me," she said, "and the rowboat didn't wash up; nothing else did." "Well, then," said the man, "how did you get the rowboat?"
"I made the rowboat out of raw material that I found on the island," replied the woman. "The oars were whittled from Gum tree branches, I wove the bottom from Palm branches, and the sides and stern came from a Eucalyptus tree." "But, but," asked the man, "what about tools and hardware, how did you do that?" "Oh, no problem," replied the woman. "On the south side of the island there is a very unusual strata of alluvial rock exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into forgeable ductile iron. I used that for tools, and used the tools to make the hardware. But, enough of that," she said. "Where do you live?"
At last the man was forced to confess that he had been sleeping on the beach.
"Well, let's row over to my place," she said. So they both got into the rowboat and left for her side of island. The woman easily rowed them around to a wharf that led to the approach to her place. She tied up the rowboat with a beautifully-woven hemp rope. They walked up a stone walk and around a palm tree, and there stood an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white.
"It's not much," she said, "but I call it home. Sit down, please. Would you like to have a drink?" "No," said the man, "one more coconut juice and I will puke."
"It won't be coconut juice," the woman replied. "I have a still. How about a Pina Colada?"
Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepted, and they sat down on her couch to talk.
After a while, having exchanged their stories, the woman asked, "Tell me, have you always had a beard?"
"No," the man replied, "I was clean shaven all of my life, and even on the cruise ship."
"Well, if you would like to shave, there is a man's razor upstairs in the cabinet in the bathroom."
So the man, no longer questioning anything, went upstairs to the bathroom. There in the cabinet was a razor made from a bone handle, two shells honed to a hollow ground edge were fastened on to its end inside of a swivel mechanism. The man shaved, showered and went back downstairs.
"You look great," said the woman. "I think I will go up and slip into something more comfortable." So she did.
And the man continued to sip his Pina Colada. After a short time, the woman returned wearing fig leafs strategically positioned and smelling faintly of gardenia.
"Tell me," she asked, "we have both been out here for a very long time with no companionship. You know what I mean. Have you been lonely; is there anything that you really miss? Something that all men and women need. Something that it would be really nice to have right now."
"Yes, there is," the man replied, as he moved closer to the woman while fixing a winsome gaze upon her, "Tell me ... Do you happen to have an Internet connection?"
Sent by: Bora Baysal <adm@tel-soft.com>
Caller: "Hello, is this Tech Support?"
Tech Rep: "Yes, it is. How may I help you?"
Caller: "The cup holder on my PC is broken and I am within my warranty period. How do I go about getting that fixed?"
Tech Rep: "I'm sorry, but did you say a cup holder?"
Caller: "Yes, it's attached to the front of my computer."
Tech Rep: "Please excuse me if I seem a bit stumped, it's because I am. Did you receive this as part of a promotional, maybe at a trade show? How did you get this cup holder? Does it have any trademark on it?"
Caller: "It came with my computer, I don't know anything about a promotional. It just has '4X' on it."
At this point the Tech Rep had to mute the caller, because he could not stand it anymore. The caller had been using the load drawer of the CD-ROM drive as a cup holder, and snapped it off the drive.
Sent by: Kaya Buyukataman <buyukak@pweh.com>
Real Engineers consider themselves well dressed if their socks match.
Real Engineers buy their spouses a set of matched screwdrivers for their birthday.
Real Engineers wear moustaches or beards for "efficiency". Not because they're lazy.
Real engineers have a non-technical vocabulary of 800 words.
Real Engineers think a "biting wit" is their fox terrier.
Real Engineers know the second law of thermodynamics - but not their own shirt size.
Real Engineers repair their own cameras, telephones, televisions, watches, and automatic transmissions.
Real Engineers say "It's 70 degrees Fahrenheit, 25 degrees Celsius, and 298 degrees Kelvin" and all you say is "Isn't it a nice day"
Real Engineers give you the feeling you're having a conversation with a dial tone or busy signal.
Real Engineers wear badges so they don't forget who they are. Sometimes a note is attached saying "Don't offer me a ride today. I drove my own car".
Real Engineers' politics run towards acquiring a parking space with their name on it and an office with a window.
Real Engineers know the "ABC's of Infrared" from A to B.
Real Engineers rotate their tires for laughs.
Real Engineers will make four sets of drawings (with seven revisions) before making a bird bath.
Real Engineers' briefcases contain a Phillips screwdriver, a copy of "Quantum Physics", and a half of a peanut butter sandwich.
Real Engineers don't find the above at all funny.
A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done. The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put aglass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous, I take a sip." So the next Sunday he took the monsignor's advice. At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink. He proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon return to his office after mass, he found the following note on his door:
Darwin Awards These are nearly always granted posthumously. This citation is bestowed upon (the remains of) that individual, who through single-minded self-sacrifice, has done the most to remove undesirable elements from the human gene pool.
[San Jose Mercury News] An unidentified man, using a shotgun like a club to break a former girlfriend's windshield, accidentally shot himself to death when the gun discharged, blowing a hole in his gut.
[Hickory Daily Record, 12-21-92] Ken Charles Barger, 47, accidentally shot himself to death in December in Newton, N. C., when, awakening to the sound of a ringing telephone beside his bed, he reached for the phone but grabbed instead a Smith & Wesson .38 Special, which discharged when he drew it to his ear.
[News of the Weird, 18 May 93, San Jose Mercury News] A 24-year-old salesman from Hialeah, Fla., was killed near Lantana, Fla., in March when his car smashed into a pole in the median strip of Interstate 95 in the middle of the afternoon. Police said that the man was traveling at 80 MPH and, judging by the sales manual that was found open and clutched to his chest, had been busy reading.
[Unknown, 25 March 1993] A Vapid Death A terrible diet and room with no ventilation are being blamed for the death of a man who was killed by his own gas. There was no mark on his body but autopsy showed large amounts of methane gas in his system. His diet had consisted primarily of beans and cabbage (and a couple other things). It was just the right combination of foods.
It appears that the man died in his sleep from breathing from the poisonous cloud that was hanging over his bed. Had he been outside or had his windows opened it wouldn't have been fatal but the man was shut up in his near airtight bedroom. He was ``...a big man with a huge capacity for creating [this deadly gas].'' Three of the rescue workers got sick and one was hospitalized.
[Reuters, Mississauga, Ontario] Man slips, falls 23 stories to his death.
A man cleaning a bird feeder on his balcony of his condominium apartment in this Toronto suburb slipped and fell 23 stories to his death, police said Monday.
Stefan Macko, 55, was standing on a wheeled chair Sunday when the accident occurred, said Inspector D'Arcy Honer of the Peel regional police.
"It appears the chair moved and he went over the balcony," Honer said. "It's one of those freak accidents. No foul play is suspected."
[UPI, Toronto] Police said a lawyer demonstrating the safety of windows in a downtown Toronto skyscraper crashed through a pane with his shoulder and plunged 24 floors to his death.
A police spokesman said Garry Hoy, 39, fell into the courtyard of the Toronto Dominion Bank Tower early Friday evening as he was explaining the strength of the building's windows to visiting law students.
Hoy previously had conducted demonstrations of window strength according to police reports. Peter Lauwers, managing partner of the firm Holden Day Wilson, told the Toronto Sun newspaper that Hoy was ``one of the best and brightest'' members of the 200-man association.
[AP, Cairo, Egypt, 31 Aug 1995] CAIRO, Egypt (AP) Six people drowned Monday while trying to rescue a chicken that had fallen into a well in southern Egypt.
An 18-year-old farmer was the first to descend into the 60-foot well. He drowned, apparently after an undercurrent in the water pulled him down, police said.
His sister and two brothers, none of whom could swim well, went in one by one to help him, but also drowned. Two elderly farmers then came to help, but they apparently were pulled down by the same undercurrent.
The bodies of the six were later pulled out of the well in the village of Nazlat Imara, 240 miles south of Cairo.
The chicken was also pulled out. It survived.
[Times of London] A thief who sneaked into a hospital was scarred for life when he tried to get a suntan.
After evading security staff at Odstock Hospital in Salisbury, Wiltshire, and helping himself to doctors' paging devices, the thief spotted a vertical sunbed. He walked into the unit and removed his clothes for a 45-minute tan.
However, the high-voltage UV machine at the hospital, which is renowned for its treatment of burns victims, has a maximum dosage of ten seconds. After lying on the bed for almost 300 times the recommended maximum time the man was covered in blisters.
Hours later, when the pain of the burns became unbearable, he went to Southampton General Hospital, 20 miles away,in Hampshire. Staff became suspicious because he was wearing a doctor's coat. After tending his wounds they called the police.
Southampton police said: "This man broke into Odstock and decided he fancied a quick suntan. Doctors say he is going to be scarred for life."
(Thanks to Nick Agural for sending this Dave Barry article)
By Dave Barry ATLANTA
And now for my impression of the Olympics on TV:
Trumpets: Bom! Bom! Bom-Bom Bom Bom Bom!
BOB COSTAS: Good evening, and as you can tell by the sound of the Olympic Theme Song that we play almost as much as we show Kerri Strug's historic vault, it's time for our broadcast of The Recently Videotaped Olympic Games Featuring Americans. We're going to start by taking you right to the track-and-field stadium, where the men's 100-meter dash is about to get under way, despite the fact that it actually happened four hours ago.
TRACK COMMENTATOR: Bob, this promises to be an exciting race, featuring Americans.
COSTAS: And what are the obstacles that these Americans have overcome to create a Human Interest Factor for our broadcast?
TRACK COMMENTATOR: Bob, from left to right, they have overcome psoriasis, vertigo and a bad allergy to vinaigrette dressing.
COSTAS: We'll come back to the men's 100-meter final, but right now we're going to replay the video of Kerri Strug, an American, overcoming her ankle injury to make her courageous vault.
(Kerri Strug vaults.)
COSTAS: What a human moment! Time for a commercial.
ANNOUNCER: We're IBM. We're a giant corporation with vast computer expertise. That's why we're in charge of keeping track of all the statistics for these, the Olympic Games of 1953. Thank you.
Bom! Bom! Bom-Bom Bom Bom Bom!
COSTAS: Now we're going to take you to women's beach volleyball, where the sun is shining brightly despite the fact it is now 10:37 p.m. on the East Coast.
BEACH VOLLEYBALL COMMENTATOR: Thanks, Bob. This is Holly McPeak, an American, and as you can see in this digitized, computer-enhanced, ultra-slow-motion >Beach-Cam close-up shot, she has overcome cellulite. > COSTAS: I'll say. When is she going to serve?
BEACH VOLLEYBALL COMMENTATOR: She'll be serving in about four seconds, Bob.
COSTAS: I'm sorry, but we don't have that kind of time, because we need to show this Heartwarming Moment.
COSTAS: Now let's go out to the cycling competition, where I believe we have a race involving an American.
CYCLING COMMENTATOR: That is correct, Bob. We have an American shown here pedaling furiously in 637th place, with a solid chance to move up to 636th.
COSTAS: What obstacle has this American overcome?
CYCLING COMMENTATOR: Bob, he is overcoming one hellacious case of hemorrhoids.
COSTAS: We'll have more on that exciting cycling race, but right now we're going to return to the Olympic track stadium for an update on the men's 100-meter dash.
TRACK COMMENTATOR: Bob, the race started about two seconds ago and should be over in about eight more seconds. None of the Americans has fallen down.
COSTAS: We're going to break away from the men's 100-meter dash at this point, but we will be covering it throughout the course of the evening. Right now, however, we want you to see this moment, captured by our NBC cameras.
COSTAS: Now let's head out to the pool to check on the progress of the American swimmers, all of whom have overcome asthma.
SWIMMING COMMENTATOR: Bob, here we see an American swimmer winning a race. This happened earlier.
COSTAS: How much earlier?
SWIMMING COMMENTATOR: Twenty-four years, Bob. This is Mark Spitz.
COSTAS: Time for this commercial.
ANNOUNCER: We're the Nike Corporation. We pay famous athletes millions of dollars to wear our shoes. Because of this, you, the public, pay absurdly high prices for these shoes. Is that stupid, or what? Thank you.
COSTAS: OK, right now there are exciting gold-medal competitions going on in archery, shooting, rowing, kayaking, table tennis, softball, volleyball, team handball and judo, so right now we're going to take you to beach volleyball. > BEACH VOLLEYBALL COMMENTATOR: Bob, as you can see, American Holly McPeak is bending over.
COSTAS: I'll say.
Sent by: Bulent Catay <catay@mail.grove.ufl.edu>
(Thanks to Mate Gross for this Scott Adams article)
by Scott Adams (scottadams@aol.com)
I get about 100 e-mail messages a day from readers of my comic strip Dilbert." Most are from disgruntled office workers, psychopaths, stalkers, comic-strip fans -- that sort of person.
But a growing number are from women who write to say they think Dilbert is sexy. Some say they've already married a Dilbert and couldn't be happier.
If you're not familiar with Dilbert, he's an electrical engineer who spends most of his time with his computer. He's a nice guy but not exactly Kevin Costner.
Okay, Dilbert is polite, honest, employed and educated. And he stays home. These are good traits, but they don't exactly explain the incredible sex appeal. So what's the attraction?
I think it's a Darwinian thing. We're attracted to the people who have the best ability to survive and thrive. In the old days it was important to be able to run down an antelope and kill it with a single blow to the forehead.
But that skill is becoming less important every year.
Now all that matters is if you can install your own Ethernet card without having to call tech support and confess your inadequacies to a stranger whose best career option is to work in tech support.
It's obvious that the world has three distinct classes of people, each with its own evolutionary destiny:
Knowledgeable computer users who will evolve into godlike non-corporeal beings who rule the universe (except for those who work in tech support).
Computer owners who try to pass as knowledgeable but secretly use hand calculators to add totals to their Excel spreadsheets. This group will gravitate toward jobs as high school principals and operators of pet crematoriums. Eventually they will become extinct.
Non-computer users who will grow tails, sit in zoos and fling dung at tourists.
Obviously, if you're a woman and you're trying to decide which evolutionary track you want your offspring to take, you don't want to put them on the luge ride to the dung-flinging Olympics. You want a real man. You want a knowledgeable computer user with evolution potential.
And women prefer men who listen. Computer users are excellent listeners because they can look at you for long periods of time without saying anything. Granted, early in a relationship it's better if the guy actually talks. But men use up all the stories they'll ever have after six months. If a woman marries a guy who's in, let's say, retail sales, she'll get repeat stories starting in the seventh month and lasting forever. Marry an engineer and she gets a great listener for the next 70 years.
Plus, with the ozone layer evaporating, it's a good strategy to mate with somebody who has an indoor hobby. Outdoorsy men are applying suntan lotion with SPF 10,000 and yet by the age of 30 they still look like dried chili peppers in pants. Compare that with the healthy glow of a man who spends 12 hours a day in front of a video screen.
It's also well established that computer users are better lovers. I know because I heard an actual anecdote from someone who knew a woman who married a computer user and they reportedly had sex many times. I realize this isn't statistically valid, but you have to admit it's the most persuasive thing I've written so far.
If you still doubt the sexiness of male PC users, consider their hair. They tend to have either:
(1) male pattern baldness -- a sign of elevated testosterone -- or
(2) unkempt jungle hair -- the kind you see only on people who just finished a frenzied bout of lovemaking. If this were a trial I think we could reach a verdict on the strong circumstantial evidence alone.
I realize there are a lot of skeptics out there. They'll delight in pointing out the number of computer users who wear wrist braces and suggest it isn't the repetitive use of the keyboard that causes the problem. That's okay. Someday those skeptics will be flinging dung at tourists. Then who'll be laughing? (Answer to rhetorical question: everybody but the tourists.) > Henry Kissinger said power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. And Bill Clinton said that knowledge is power. Therefore, logically, according to the U.S. government, knowledge of computers is the ultimate aphrodisiac. You could argue with me -- I'm just a cartoonist -- but it's hard to argue with the government. Remember, they run the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, so they must know a thing or two about satisfying women.
You might think this was enough to convince anyone that men who use computers are sexy. But look at it from my point of view: I'm getting paid by the word for this article. I'm not done yet.
In less enlightened times, the best way to impress women was to own a hot car. But women wised up and realized it was better to buy their own hot cars so they wouldn't have to ride around with jerks.
Technology has replaced hot cars as the new symbol of robust manhood. Men know that unless they get a digital line to the Internet no woman is going to look at them twice.
It's getting worse. Soon anyone who's not on the World Wide Web will qualify for a government subsidy for the home-pageless. And nobody likes a man who takes money from the government, except maybe Marilyn Monroe, which is why the CIA killed her. And if you think that's stupid, I've got 100 words to go.
Finally, there's the issue of mood lighting. Nothing looks sexier than a man in boxer shorts illuminated only by a 15-inch SVGA monitor. If we agree that this is every woman's dream scenario, then I think we can also agree that it's best if the guy knows how to use the computer. Otherwise, he'll just look like a loser sitting in front of a PC in his underwear.
In summary, it's not that I think non-PC users are less attractive. It's just that I'm sure they won't read this article.