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400 lines
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*** ** *** *** *** *******
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***** ***** ****** ** ******
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****** ****** ****
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*** ***** *** ****** *** **** *** *** *** **
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Electronic Humor Magazine.
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Issue014, (Volume III, Number 2). December, 1986
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NutWorks is published semi-monthly-ish by
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Brent C.J. Britton, <Brent@Maine.BITNET>
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We attempt to procure or produce original humorous articles for
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publication. We apologize if any articles appearing herein are
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not credited to the original author(s). Really, we do...
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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"I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat."
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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NewsWorks
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=========
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In what he called "my worst surge of procrastination since I put off
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changing my underwear for 3 years as a child," the editor of NutWorks
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magazine said today that he halted publication of the electronic humor
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magazine for the entire month of November because, "it seemed like a
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pretty good thing to do at the time, what with all the snow and rain
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and final exams coming up you know, I just didn't feel much like coming
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in to the office all month so I pretty much didn't..."
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The NutWorks editor said that he enjoyed his sabattical so much that
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he figured more folks should try it sometime, so he has advised President
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Reagan to officially declare the month of November a legal holiday.
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When asked for comment, the President had this to say: "Well..."
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In response to allegations that he spent the month of November
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entrenched deeply in the American sale of Arms to Iran, the NutWorks
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editor said, "Ummm... upon the advice of counsel, I respectfully drink
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a fifth..."
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And now a word from our sponsor.
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------------
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Music: There's no slowin' down at the Silver Bullet toni-ight...
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Actor1: Gee, this is a pretty neat tavern.
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Actor2: Yep...
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Actor1: Are we supposed to be trying to sell Coors Light Beer?
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Actor2: Indirectly.
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Actor1: Whatd'ya' mean?
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Actor2: We're supposed to say funny things and show a lot of happy
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people so people will think that drinking Coors will make them
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popular and attractive.
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Actor1: Oh. I see.
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Actor2: We're also trying to make people associate us with another
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renowned drinking establishment.
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Norm: Hello everybody...
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Everybody: NORM!
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Norm: Oops, wrong bar...
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Actor2: See?
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Actor1: I get it!
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Music: There's no slowin' down at the Silver Bullet toni-ight!
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------------
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And now, back to the news.
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Announcing the NutWorks Call for Song Parodies! Got a little of
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"Weird Al" in you? The staff of NutWorks plans to dedicate a future
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issue solely to the publication of song parodies. If have written a
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song parody, and would like to have it published in the special Song
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Parody Issue, send it to BRENT@MAINE.BITNET as soon as possible. We
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request that each submission contain some hint as to which song it is
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a parody of, preferably in the form: "Sung to the tune of..."
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The special Song Parody Issue will only be published if enough original
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song parodies are received by February 1, 1987.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Nuts & Bolts
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==============
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by Brent C.J. Britton
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Well folks, it's that time of the Terran rotation again. And don't
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act like you weren't expecting it! You there, in the back. Yes you!
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Stop pretending to study for those final exams and get with it! It's
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time again! It's time to go into the attic and get the tree out from
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under the summer clothes. It's time to sit down for a few hours with a
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pair of pliers and a cigarette lighter trying to untangle your seven
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strings of blinking, multi-colored lights. It's time to open that sacred
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box of decorations only find that the cat has shredded the tinsel,
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squashed the bulbs, and pooped on the garland. Dammit, it's time to
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spike the nog!
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That's right friends, Christmas is upon us.
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Yes, I said Christmas.
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Right here in River City. With a capital "C" and that doesn't rhyme
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with "X" but that spells "Xmas" too. And friends, it's time again for
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each and every one of us to postpone our pressing engagements in favor
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of getting some of that festive yuletide cheer hammered squarely down
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our throats. Why? It's tradition. In fact, it's been a tradition since
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about the year n A.D., where "n" is a very small positive integer.
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You see, roughly two thousand years ago, it is said, a child was
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given birth by a virgin. (An event in itself worthy of yearly celebra-
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tion, in my humble opinion.) So rare was a Divine conception in those
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days that The Birth was attended by several leading dignitaries who
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brought gifts for the child and his mother. "Hark," said they, for the
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Herald Angels were singing.
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Anyhow, the child grew up to become a big supporter of peace on Earth
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and goodwill toward men, and for this He was crucified by some people who
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just didn't have their shit together at all.
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It is in honor of this man that we celebrate Christmas.
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(Note: The above story has been somewhat abbreviated, for the sake
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of space. For the complete details, see the second half of the large,
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black book normally found in the top drawer of the night stand in most
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hotel rooms.)
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It is certainly no suprise, (considering the natural human tendency
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to completely miss the point of anything more meaningful than a Certz
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commercial), that Christmas, being a birthday party of massive propor-
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tions, is commonly referred to as "The Holiday Gift Buying Season." To
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many people, the "meaning of Christmas" is closely tied to the act of
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trading enormous sums of cash in exchange for retail goods. These items
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are then wrapped and bound in multicolored paper, ribbons and bows,
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(preferably by a member of that elite group of people who posseses the
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dexterity to "do the ends"), and then handed over as gifts to friends
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and family. The gift recipients, in turn, mutilate said wrapping, brief-
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ly admire said item, and then trade it back to the retailer in exchange
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for the abovementioned cash. It's a bookkeeper's nightmare.
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But, it's a child's dream! After all, Christmas *is* for the child-
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ren, right? Little Johnny wants a set of Ultra-Destructo-Man toy weapons
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which can be set on "stun," "kill," or "liquify" and with which he can
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shred the table-cloth, for example, or decapitate the dog. Little Susie
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wants a doll which she can cause to urinate on demand, she hopes, upon
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Little Johnny. If either of these toys aren't found under the tree on
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Christmas morning, the children will only stop long enough to wish a pox
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on Mommy and Daddy before running away.
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So friends, let's deck the halls with gobs of holly, toss another
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Kingsford Quik-Lite Yule Log into the fireplace, kill an evergreen or
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two, devour a Canadian water fowl, lift our glasses high in celebration
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of Christmas, and be mirthful in the knowledge that the broken bones
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sustained in last year's Race for the Cabbage Patch Dolls are nearly
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healed. Merry Christmas.
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------
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Hi, I'm Sam Kennyson and when I'm not doing my stand up comedy routine,
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I like to read NutWorks Humor Magazine. It's The BEST THING THAT'S
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HAPPENED TO ME SINCE MY FIFTH DIVORCE!!! AAUUGHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGHHHH!!
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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'Twas the Night Before Implementation
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====================================
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Submitted by Wildebeest <33000003@UNFVM>
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'Twas the night before implementation and all through the house,
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Not a program was working not even a browse.
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The programmers hung by their tubes of despair,
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with hope that a miracle would soon be there.
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The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
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while visions of inquires danced in their heads.
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When out of the machine room there arose such a clatter,
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I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
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And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
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but a super programmer, (with a six-pack of beer).
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His resume glowed with experience so rare,
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he turned out great code with a bit-pusher's flair.
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More rapid than eagles, his programs they came,
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and he cursed and muttered and called them by name.
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On update! on add! on inquiry! on delete!
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on batch jobs! on closing! on functions complete!
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His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
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from weekends and nights in front of the screen.
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A wink of his eye, and a twitch of his head,
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soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
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He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
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turning spec's into code; then turned with a jerk;
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And laying his finger upon the "ENTER" key,
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the system came up and worked perfectly.
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The updates updated, the deletes, they deleted;
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the inquiries inquired, and closings completed.
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He tested each whistle, and tested each bell
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with nary an abend, and all had gone well.
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The system was finished, the tests were concluded.
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the user's last changes were even included.
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And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
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"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!"
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Dear Dr. Diag:
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=============
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Note: Dr. Diag will attempt to answer questions on any subject, if he
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can. If he can't, he'll make you feel stupid for asking. Send
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your questions to "Dr. Diag" c/o Brent@Maine.BITNET.
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>Dear Dr. Diag,
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> I have a lot of trouble understanding the principle of Recursion.
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>My final exam is next week! Can you help me?
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> Signed, Shallow.
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Dear Shallow,
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Recursion is best explained by the following anecdote:
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A theoretical mathemetician is suprised one day to find his desk on
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fire. He runs to the extinguisher and douses the flames.
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The next day he looks up from his book to see that his wastepaper
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basket is on fire. Quickly he takes the basket and empties it onto his
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desk which begins to burn.
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Having thus reduced the problem to one he has already solved, he goes
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back to his reading.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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The Owner's Manual
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==================
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CONGRATULATIONS ON BUYING YOUR NEW PULENBERE FRASHNED
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READ THIS FIRST!
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Congratulations! You have purchased an extremely fine device that would
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give you thousands of years of trouble-free service, except that you
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will undoubtly destroy it via some typical bonehead consumer maneuver.
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Which is why we ask you to PLEASE FOR GOD'S SAKE READ THIS
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OWNER'S MANUAL CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU UNPACK THE DEVICE. YOU ALREADY
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UNPACKED IT, DIDN'T YOU? YOU UNPACKED IT AND PLUGGED IT IN AND TURNED
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IT ON AND FIDDLED WITH THE KNOBS, AND NOW YOUR CHILD, THE SAME CHILD
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WHO ONCE SHOVED A POLISH SAUSAGE INTO YOUR VIDEOCASSETTE RECORDER AND
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SET IT ON "FAST FORWARD", THIS CHILD ALSO IS FIDDLING WITH THE KNOBS,
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RIGHT? WE MIGHT AS WELL JUST BREAK THESE DEVICES RIGHT AT THE FACTORY
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BEFORE WE SHIP THEM OUT, YOU KNOW THAT?
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We're sorry. We just get a little crazy sometimes because we're always
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getting back "defective" merchandise where it turns out that the
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consumer inadvertently bathed the device in acid for six days. So, in
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writing these instructions, we naturally tend to assume that your skull
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is filled with dead insects, but we mean nothing by it. OK? Now let's
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talk about:
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1. UNPACKING THE DEVICE. The device is encased in foam to protect it
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from the Shipping People, who like nothing more than to jab spears
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into outgoing boxes. PLEASE INSPECT THE CONTENTS CAREFULLY FOR GASHES
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OR IDA MAE BARKER'S ENGAGEMENT RING, WHICH SHE LOST LAST WEEK, AND
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SHE THINKS MAYBE IT WAS WHILE SHE WAS PACKING DEVICES. Ida Mae really
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wants that ring back, because it is her only proof of engagement, and
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her fiancee, Stuart, is now seriously considering backing out on the
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whole thing inasmuch as he had consumed most of a bottle of Jim Beam
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in Quality Control when he decided to pop the question. You see, it is
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not without irony that Ida Mae's last name is "Barker", if you get our
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drift.
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WARNING: DO NOT EVER AS LONG AS YOU LIVE THROW AWAY THE BOX OR ANY
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OF THE PIECES OF STYROFOAM, EVEN THE LITTLE ONES SHAPED LIKE PEANUTS.
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If you attempt to return the device to the store, and you are missing
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one single peanut, the store personnel will laugh in the chilling
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manner exhibited by Joseph Stalin just after he enslaved Eastern
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Europe.
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Besides the device, the box should contain:
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* Eight little rectangular snippets of paper that say "WARNING"
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* A little plastic packet containing four 5/17 inch pilfer grommets
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and two club-ended 6/93 inch boxcar prawns.
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YOU WILL NEED TO SUPPLY: a matrix wrench and 60,000 feet of tram cable.
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IF ANYTHING IS DAMAGED OR MISSING: You IMMEDIATELY should turn to your
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spouse and say "Margaret, you know why this country can't make a car
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that can get all the way through the drive-through at Burger King without
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a major transmission overhaul? Because nobody cares, that's why."
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WARNING: This is assuming your spouse's name is Margaret.
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2. PLUGGING IN THE DEVICE: The plug on this device represents the latest
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thinking of the electrical industry's Plug Mutation Group, which, in a
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continuing effort to prevent consumers from causing hazardous electrical
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current to flow through their appliances, developed the Three-Pronged
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Plug, then the Plug Where One Prong is Bigger Than the Other. Your
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device is equipped with the revolutionary new Plug Whose Prongs Consist
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of Six Small Religious Figurines Made of Chocolate.
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DO NOT TRY TO PLUG IT IN!
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Lay it gently on the floor near an outlet, but out of direct sunlight,
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and clean it weekly with a damp handkerchief.
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WARNING: WHEN YOU ARE LAYING THE PLUG ON THE FLOOR, DO NOT HOLD A SHARP
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OBJECT IN YOUR OTHER HAND AND TRIP OVER THE CORD AND POKE YOUR EYE OUT,
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AS THIS COULD VOID THE WARRANTY.
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3. OPERATION OF THE DEVICE. WARNING: WE MANUFACTURE ONLY THE ATTRACTIVE
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DESIGNER CASE. THE ACTUAL WORKING CENTRAL PARTS OF THE DEVICE ARE
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MANUFACTURED IN JAPAN. THE INSTRUCTIONS WERE TRANSLATED BY MRS. SHIRLEY
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PELTWATER OF ACCOUNTS RECEIVABLE, WHO HAS NEVER ACTUALLY BEEN TO JAPAN
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BUT DOES HAVE MOST OF "SHOGUN" ON TAPE.
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INSTRUCTIONS: For results that can be the finest, it is our advising that
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NEVER to hold these buttons two times!! Except the battery. Next taking
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the earth section may cause a large occurrence! However. If this is not
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a trouble, such rotation is a very maintainance action, as a kindly small
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virepoint from Drawing B.
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4. WARRANTY: Be it hereby known that this device, together with but not
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excluding all those certain parts thereunto, shall be warrantied against
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all defects, failures and malfunctions as shall occur between now and
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Thursday afternoon shortly before 2, during which time the Manufacturer
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will, at no charge to the Owner, send the device to our Service People,
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who will emerge from their caves and engage in rituals designed to
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cleanse it of evil spirits. This warranty does not cover the attractive
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designer case.
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WARNING: IT MAY BE A VIOLATION OF SOME LAW THAT MRS. SHIRLEY PELTWATER
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HAS "SHOGUN" ON TAPE.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Bad Day
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=======
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From Howie Kaye <Ui.Kaye@CU20B>
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Background:
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User is having problems with unlabeled tape, consultant calls operator
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to mount tape...
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Consultant: Hello, this is the consultant. There are two tapes waiting
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to be mounted on the DEC20 machine. Could you mount them?
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Operator: No dis is nod dee consultan. You have to call down-
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Consultant: No, this is the consultant, can you mount the tapes...
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Operator: (still speaking) No dis is nod dee consultan. You have to
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call uh...
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Consultant: No- wait, *I* am the consultant. You are an Operator.
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there are two tapes to be mounted on-
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Operator: Ohhhhh *you* are de consultan (revelation). Wha do you want?
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Consultant: There are two tapes to be mounted on CU20A.
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Operator: Tapes on CU20A... ok. (click)
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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The Argument
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============
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A doctor, an architect, and a computer scientist were arguing
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about whose profession was the oldest. In the course of their
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arguments, they got all the way back to the Garden of Eden, whereupon
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the doctor said, "The medical profession is clearly the oldest, because
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Eve was made from Adam's rib, as the story goes, and that was a simply
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incredible surgical feat."
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The architect did not agree. He said, "But if you look at the
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Garden itself, in the beginning there was chaos and void, and out of
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that, the Garden and the world were created. So God must have been an
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architect."
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The computer scientist, who had listened to all of this said,
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"Yes, but where do you think the chaos came from?"
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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A very popular attraction at the traveling circus was Great Zambini
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The Firewalker, who strolled barefoot across a pile of burning wood to
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the wonderment of paying circus-goers. Some of the local boys who got
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in to see Great Zambini, being woodsmen, immediately recognized him to
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be a fraud because he was walking across pine branches. And any woods-
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man worth his salt knows that pine branches don't burn very hot, they
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just smoke a lot, so it would be entirely possible for Zambini to make
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it across a pile of burning pine branches with no pain whatsoever.
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Well, these fellows didn't like the idea of Zambini getting away with
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such fraudulence, so, in the wee hours of the night, they sneeked into
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the circus and doused the Zambini's pines with gasoline.
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The next day, when Great Zambini did his morning show, he made it
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about half way over the pile of burning wood when the gas ignited.
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"Yowee!" screamed Great Zambini as his feet began to fry, and he
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jumped from the pines to safe ground.
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"Umm... Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, stomping his feet to get the
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last of the flames out, "I'm afraid I won't be able to continue my
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performance this morning. You see, these are not my pines! In fact,
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'These are pines that fry men's soles.'"
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Issue014, (Volume III, Number 2). December, 1986
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