Computer Humor
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Clueless Users
Drug Dealers or Software Developers?
Computers in the Movies
Dome...
Evolution of Software
The Farmer in Hell
Internet Legends
Nosmoke.exe
Solder Ants
Computer Codes
Tech Support
Technical Harassment
Cybersex
Smarthouse
Origin of the Internet |
Microsoft Bob
How to Install New Software
How to Unsubscribe
HAL 9000
File Life
Why Email is like a Penis
Computer Definitions
Bill Gates Went to Heaven
Legacy Computer Humor
Virus Apologies |
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If a swamp frog goes ribb-it....ribb-it....ribb-it; and a Busch frog goes
bud....wis....er;
What does a Windows ME frog sound like?
Re-boot.....Re-boot.....re-boot. |
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Some filthy, disgusting miscreant ... some no-good, low-down, good-for-nothing DIRTY SNAKE, in twisted pursuit of his own sadistic dreams, is sending this virus across the Net via an e-mail entitled "Free Money." What is so terrifying about this virus is that you do not even to have to open the e-mail for it to activate. In fact, you do not even need to RECEIVE the e-mail. You do not even need to OWN a COMPUTER. "Free Money" can infect even minor HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES.
How it does this with straight ASCII code is, frankly, a matter of some debate ... but BELIEVE YOU US, if this weren't a SERIOUS situation, we wouldn't be discussing it in ALL CAPS.
So for the LOVE OF GOD, forward this e-mail to all those you claim to care about, all those you purport to love. Don't do it later! Do it NOW! Now! Now!
NOW! NOW! NOW!
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| A senior systems programmer and his younger assistant were
flying home to Chicago in a small two-seater Cessna from a seminar in
St. Louis. They made their descent into the city and were engulfed in a
dense bank of fog which had rolled in from Lake Michigan. Despite his
years of flying experience, the systems programmer became disoriented
and could not locate Meigs Field in the fog.
As he circled over the city, a building loomed ahead in the fog. The
pilot spotted someone standing in the garden on the roof. He quickly
opened his window, cut the engine, and began to circle the building,
calling out to the man on the roof. "Where am I?" After several
passes, the man on the building yelled back "You're in the cockpit
of a Cessna220 airplane!" Upon hearing this, the pilot re-started
the plane, banked to the right, leveled off and set the plane down
perfectly on the runway.
His amazed assistant asked, "How in the world did you figure out
where we were based on what that man said?" The systems programmer
replied, "The man responded to my question with a clear, concise,
and accurate answer which told me _absolutely nothing_. I knew
immediately that I was at the IBM building!"
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There it is again. Some clueless fool talking about the
"Information Superhighway." They don't know didley about the
net. It's nothing like a superhighway. That's a rotten metaphor. Suppose
the metaphor ran in the other direction. Suppose the highways were like
the net. . .
A highway hundreds of lanes wide. Most with pitfalls for potholes.
Privately operated bridges and overpasses. No highway patrol. A couple
of rent-a-cops on bicycles with broken whistles.500 member vigilante
posses with nuclear weapons. A minimum of237 on ramps at every
intersection. No signs. Wanna get to Ensenada? Holler out the window at
a passing truck to ask directions. Ad hoc traffic laws. Some lanes would
vote to make use by a single-occupant- vehicle a capital offense on
Monday through Friday between 7:00 and 9:00. Other lanes would just
shoot you without a trial for talking on a car phone. AOL would be a
giant diesel-smoking bus with hundreds of ebola victims on board
throwing dead wombats and rotten cabbage at the other cars, most of
which have been assembled at home from kits. Some are built around 2.5
horsepower lawnmower engines with a top speed of nine miles an hour.
Others burn nitroglycerin and idle at 120.
No license plates. World War II bomber nose art instead. Terrifying
paintings of huge teeth or vampire eagles. Bumper mounted machine guns.
Flip somebody the finger on this highway and get a white phosphorus
grenade up your tailpipe. Flatbed trucks cruise around with
anti-aircraft missile batteries to shoot down the traffic helicopter.
Little kids on tricycles with squirt guns filled with hydrochloric acid
switch lanes without warning.
NO OFFRAMPS. None.
Now that's the way to run an Interstate Highway system.
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