HUMOR Digest - 19 Mar 1997 to 20 Mar 1997
There are 9 messages totalling 481 lines in this issue.

Topics of the day:

  1. Pranks (part 5/5)
  2. The Exam (clean)
  3. It's A Wacky World
  4. Where has All the Humor Gone?
  5. The Candy Wrapper (VERY adult, innuendos)
  6. Russia's cashless economy (Off to Russians? Dildo-owners?)
  7. You might be a Redneck if... pt1 (1-20 of 168) <off to rednecks>
  8. Billy's Letters ( offensive to  nerds, computer camps & kids in computer
     camps)
  9. fwd: A short history of medicine <not offensive>

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Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 09:10:31 +0100
From:    Jan Willem Frederikze <Oddball@DDS.NL>
Subject: Pranks (part 5/5)

> From my friend Mark:

In view of the large number of recent postings of college practical jokes,
I'll 'fess up that some friends and I were the instigators of many a prank
while undergraduates in college. The following are some of the better pranks:

1) It somehow came to our attention that most of the campus street and
walkway lighting came on *simultaneously* each night, the actual time being
based upon the actual level of ambient light. It was obvious that there was
a central control point with a photoelectric sensor somewhere.
        After a few exploratory tours of the campus, we came upon a likely
location: two photoelectric controls mounted on the roof of a service
building directly across from the campus electrical substation.
        After "borrowing" an extension ladder from a telephone company
truck (which was always left parked near a service building), one Friday
night about 10:00 PM (peak campus traffic time) we climbed on the roof of
the service building and taped flashlights to each of the two photoelectric
sensors. Instant blackness!
        Actually, the most amazing part was that it took OVER ONE HOUR for
the campus maintenance people to restore the lights! I would have thought
there to be some kind of manual override for the photoelectric cells, but
perhaps the maintenance people thought there was some kind of underground
cable fault so they didn't rashly restore power.

2) The father of my dorm roommate worked as a repairman for the Otis
Elevator Company. One weekend, I stayed with my roommate at his parent's
home. While talking with his father, we learned an *amazing* fact: almost
all escalators are reversible for use in breakdowns or emergencies; there
is usually a key operated reversing switch located under the handrail at
each end of the escalator. We also learned a second *amazing* fact: most
all Otis elevators and escalators use the *same* key. While my roommate's
father went out for the evening, we swiped his work keys, and were able to
get many of them duplicated.
        As soon as we returned to campus on Sunday evening, we went in
search of an Otis Elevator (we didn't have to go far - our dorm had one).
Sure enough, we had The Key. Over the next few days, we found that The Key
worked on every Otis Elevator that we tried on campus.
        We were now ready for an escalator (there were none on campus), and
we readily found one in a five floor department store in the heart of the
downtown shopping district. It was an Otis, and sure 'nuff it had a
reversing switch at each end beneath the handrail.
        We came back on Wednesday night, which was the peak shopping night
of the week. There were two pairs of escalators - one at each end of the
store. After nervously waiting for the right moment when no one was on the
UP escalator, and no one was looking, my roommate inserted The Key, and
turned it. Grrr-klunk-grrr. The UP escalator came to a halt, and reversed
direction - it was now going DOWN! We quickly went to the other escalator
pair, and I got the honor of inserting the key.
        We now had an increasingly crowded department store with four
escalators on the main floor, all going down! We tried to act inconspicuous
as possible (not easy with half dozen 18-19 year-olds sporadically going
into fits of hysterical laughter!) and watch the action. People would step
on the UP escalator without looking at direction, and then step back in
shock. Then shock would change to disbelief: an UP escalator going DOWN -
impossible! People in the store were forming an oval as they traveled from
the front escalators to the rear and back, trying to figure out how to get
to the second floor. After about ten minutes of this, with the main floor
crowd growing larger, a *very* agitated person wearing a suit (must have
been the manager) came by with a big ring of keys, frantically trying each
key in the escalator until he found the right one to operate the key
switch. Since the manager was eying us suspiciously, we didn't stick around
to find out any more about the situation.

***

All this talk about practical jokes reminds me of one I heard about in high
school. It seems that a psychology class decided to give their new found
knowledge of the "power of suggestion" a little test. Some of the students
had another class together and decided to play a little trick on their
teacher. Whenever the teacher was on the left side of the room, they would
act really interested and when he was on the right side of the room, they
would act really bored. Well, it seems that this behavior did its job on
the teacher's subconscious and he was practically crawling on the left wall
by the end of class.

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 13:05:28 +0200
From:    Brian Myers <bmyers@IAFRICA.COM>
Subject: The Exam (clean)

The setting is Ohio State University about six or seven years ago in a huge
lecture hall (approximately 1000 students) for a Calculus final.

Apparently this particular calculus teacher wasn't very well liked. He was
one of those guys who would stand at the front of the class and yell out how
much time was remaining before the end of a test, a real charmer.  Since he
was so busy gallivanting around the room making sure that nobody cheated and
that everyone was aware of how much time they had left before their failure
on the test was complete, he had the students stack the completed tests on
the huge podium at the front of the room.  This made for quite a mess,
remember there were 1000 students in the class.

Anyway, during this particular final, one guy entered the test needing a
decent grade to pass the class.  His only problem with Calculus was that he
did poorly when rushed, and this guy standing in the front of the room
barking out how much time was left before the tests had to be handed in
didn't help him at all.  He figured he wanted to assure himself of a good
grade, so he hardly flinched when the professor said "pencils down and
submit your scantron sheets and work to piles at the front of the room".

Five minutes turned into ten, ten into twenty, twenty into forty...almost an
hour after the test was "officially over", our friend finally put down his
pencil, gathered up his work, and headed to the front of the hall to submit
his final.  The whole time, the professor sat at the front of the room,
strangely waiting for the student to complete his exam.

"What do you think you're doing?" the professor asked as the student stood
in front of him about to put down his exam on one of the neatly stacked
piles of exams (the professor had plenty of time to stack the mountain of
papers while he waited)  It was clear that the professor had waited only to
give the student a hard time.

"Turning in my exam," retorted the student confidently.  "I'm afraid I have
some bad news for you," the professor gloated, "Your exam is an hour late.
You've FAILED it and, consequently,  I'll see you next term when you repeat
my course."

The student smiled slyly and asked the professor "Do you know who I am?"

"What?" replied the professor gruffly, annoyed that the student showed no
sign of emotion.

The student rephrased the question mockingly, "Do you know what my name is?"

"NO", snarled the professor.

The student looked the professor dead in the eyes and said slowly, "I didn't
think so", as he lifted up one of the stacks half way, shoved his test
neatly into the center of the stack, let the stack fall burying his test in
the middle, turned around, and walked casually out of the huge lecture hall.

=================================================
Brian Myers, an American in Cape Town.

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 09:58:33 -0600
From:    "Ken Brousseau Sr." <kenbruso@IO.COM>
Subject: It's A Wacky World

            Subject Of Orangutan Mistress Touches Nerve In Thailand

 LOP BURI, Thailand (CNN) (c) -- Seven-year-old Susu is the picture of a
happy mother, carefully cradling her two-month-old boy called Monsit, the
Thai word for joy.

 The father, nine-year-old Mike, had been celibate for three years
following the death of his partner. The arrival of Susu from Taiwan seemed
the perfect solution.

  The zoo's story of animal passion captured the country's imagination,
making the orangutans virtual superstars. The animals had a lavish wedding
ceremony last April, and a competition to name the baby drew 10,000
entries.

 But the fun has run out with the news that Mike is to have a new partner,
Malee, a Southern belle from the Malaysian border.

 The zoo director said he's lost count of the letters pouring in since the
announcement of Mike's planned infidelity.

 "Nearly all the letters from men agree that Mike should have a mistress,
but all those from women are absolutely against it," said Major Wirat
Poopeangjai.

 Malee's appearance on the scene has touched a raw nerve among Thai women
-- the "mia noi," or kept mistress.

 "It's immoral to have many wives. But in our society it has been permitted
in such a way, it's been kept secret but it's a fact we know and are not
prepared to admit," said Malee's owner Sirichok Sopha.

 "By having this issue about Malee we are actually seeing a big response
because it's a reflection of the serious nature of the problem."

 According to one wildlife expert, the male orangutan is just doing what
comes naturally.  "They are animals and they live their own lives, and it
doesn't matter if they're in a zoo or in the wild. They have their own
inborn traits and habits, and the male orangutan is randy," said Leonie
Vajjajiva of the Wild Animal Rescue Foundation of Thailand.

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 13:25:50 -0500
From:    Patrick Ash <pash@GRADIENT.CIS.UPENN.EDU>
Subject: Where has All the Humor Gone?

Mar 18, 1997 (AP)

Following the recent announcement that all available humor has been used,
and is now being recycled, a very unexpected reactionhas occurred
in Congress. Responding to a flood of calls and letters,, members
of both houses of Congress have come together to attempt to resolve the
problem. In a rare show of bipartisan cooperation, a majority of
Senators and Representatives signed a letter to the President asking
him to release some of the US strategic reserves of humor.

It is a little known fact, but the United States keeps a large
reserve of humor, in a manner similar to that in which oil reserves
are stored. Located in abandoned salt caves buried deep in Louisiana,
the humor is stored for times of national emergency and general
unhappiness.

Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, in a statement made during a press
conference to announce the letter stated:
"The American people have spoken. The vas majority of the comments
we have all received have been from people who are tired of hearing
the same jokes over and over again. Granted, there are some that are
true classics, and one never grows tired of hearing them, but too
many are marginal the first time one hears them, and they do not
get any better with time. I would urge Mr Clinton to act swiftly,
and to release some of the humor that has been stored away for years.
It is in the best interest of the country to do so."

Providing counter point, alan Greenspan, Chairman of the Federal
Reserve, responded.
"Few know this, but one of my duties as Fed chairman is to be the
honorary Commissioner of Comedy. It is my belief that there is sufficient
humor in the economy, and that an infusion of additional humor could
lead to comedy inflation. currently, we now enjoy the lowest rate
of comedy inflation in 30 years, and the Humor Retention Index HRI)
is at the lowest that it has ever been. Just look at Al Gore. His
hRI is so low that after he hears a joke, he forgets it before it
reaches his brain. Releasing humor reserves at this time is ill-
advised."

When asked for comment, Al Gore responded " What's a joke?
What's a brain?"

all of the arguments were made moot when it was reported by the
FBI that the humor reserves had all disappeared. During an unrelated
investigation, the FBI had received information that there might be
an attempt made to obtain American humor by the Chinese, and when
a check was made of the vaults, they were empty. Addressing a
Senate Investigating Committee, Attorney General Janet Reno stated:
"Our investigation initially centered on the Chinese government, but
we quickly exhonorated them. Our investigation found that the humor
in the strategic reserves had been secretly removed by President
Clinton, and sold to the Indonesians. For a donation of $25,000
and a pair of jogging shoes, Indonesian nationals were given a night
in the Lincoln bedroom and all of the humor that they could remember.
Evidently, this went on for some time. We finally got a break
when one of our agents made the connection with large numbers
of laughing Indonesians found in the vicinity of the White house,
not wearing shoes, and carrying armloads of towels monogrammed with
'LB'. "

A white House spokesman read a statement from Mr Clinton.
"I don't see anything illegal or improper about telling a few jokes
to the gardner or cook. If he wants to give me the shoes off his
feet, who am I to turn down a friendly gesture like that. And if
that same cook or gardner wants to donate $25,000 to my campaign,
he has every right to do so. As for the Lincoln bedroom, these people
have to sleep somewhere, and the Lincoln bedroom is not for sale.
However, renting it for the night is not out of the question."

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 14:09:21 -0500
From:    Robert C Oshinsky <oshinskr@FRB.GOV>
Subject: The Candy Wrapper (VERY adult, innuendos)

Got this from a friend.

It was another Payday, and I was tired of being a Mr.Goodbar. So I saw Miss
Hershey standing behind the Powerhouse on the corner of Clark and Fifth
Avenue, and I whipped out my Whopper and whispered, "Hey Sweetart, how'd you
like to Krunch on my Big Hunk for a Hundred Thousand Dollar Bar?"

Well, she immediately went down on my Tootsie Roll, and, Uno, it was like
pure Almond Joy.  I couldn't help but grab her delicious Mounds 'cause it
was easy to see that this little Twix had the Red Hots. It was all I could
do to hold back a Snicker and a Krackle as my Butterfinger went up her
tight little Kit Kat and she started to scream "Oh Henry, Oh Henry!"

Soon she was fondling my Peter Paul and Zagnuts and I knew it wouldn't be
long before I blew my Milkduds clear to Mars and gave her a taste of the
old Milky Way.  She asked if I was into M&M, but I said "Hey Chicklet, no
kinky stuff". I said "Look you little Reeces Pieces, don't be a Zero, be a
Lifesaver.  Why don't you just take my Whatchamacallit and slip it up your
Bit O'Honey?" (and what a piece of Juicyfruit she was too).

She screamed, "Oh, Crackerjack, you're better than the Three Musketeers!"
as I rammed my Ding Dong up her Rocky Road and into her Peanut Butter Cup.
Well, I was givin' it to her Good 'n' Plenty, when all of a sudden... my
Starburst.  As luck would have it, she started to grow a bit Chunky and
complained of a Wrigley in her stomach.  Sure enough, nine months later,
out popped a Baby Ruth.

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 14:58:24 -0500
From:    Janissary <rlb@DORUK.COM.TR>
Subject: Russia's cashless economy (Off to Russians? Dildo-owners?)

 "Having failed to pay its workers any cash wages for 13 months,
 the Akhtuba factory in Volgograd decided to pay them for
 February in kind. Unfortunately for the workers, the kind of
 product Akhtuba had to hand was "the Adam", a rubber dildo, into
 the making of which the firm had diversified in 1993 when it ran
 out of customers for its marine navigation equipment. Workers
 who tried to sell their Adams to the local sex shop found out in
 ten minutes what it had taken their superiors four years to
 twig: that the market had moved on to electric vibrators, and
 inert dildos were unsalable even in Volgograd.

 "The Akhtuba case ranks, for the moment, as the most bizarre
 payment-in-kind story to have emerged from Russia's benighted
 labor market, displacing January's tale of Siberian workers who
 were paid in coffins and the plight of workers in another
 Volgograd factory who were paid last year in bras."

                                  The Economist, March 15th 1997

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 15:01:50 -0500
From:    Cereal Killer <lvermont@UWIMONA.EDU.JM>
Subject: You might be a Redneck if... pt1 (1-20 of 168) <off to rednecks>

 1. More than one living relative is named after a southern civil war
    general.
 2. Your front porch collapses and more than six dogs are killed.
 3. You've ever used lard in bed.
 4. Your home has more miles on it than your car.
 5. You think that potted meat on a saltine is an hors d'ouerve.
 6. There is a stuffed pposum anywhere in your house.
 7. You consider a six-pack and a bug-zapper high-quality entertainment.
 8. Fewer than half of your cars run.
 9. Your mother doesn't remove the Marlboro from her lips before telling
    the State Trooper to kiss her ass.
10. The primary color of your car is "bondo".
11. You honestly think that women are turned on by animal noises and
    seductive tongue gestures.
12. You stand under the misteletoe at christmas and wait for Granny and
    cousin Sue-Ellen to walk by.
13. Your family tree doesn't fork.
14. Your hairdo has ever been ruined by a ceiling fan.
15. Your mother has been involved in a fistfight at a high school
    sports event.
17. You've ever barbecued Spam on the grill.
18. The best way to keep things cold is to leave'em in the shade.
19. The neighbors started a petition over your Christmas lights.
20. Your brother-in-law is your uncle.

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 16:14:54 -0600
From:    Antonio Oliveros Fernandez <oliveros@MAIL.INTERNET.COM.MX>
Subject: Billy's Letters ( offensive to  nerds,
         computer camps & kids in computer camps)

The following appeared in a computer magazine in Mr. Dvorak's column
(according with the original sender)

Dear Mr. Dvorak:

        Ann Landers wouldn't print this.  I have nowhere else to turn.  I have to get the word out. Warn other parents.  I must be rambling on. Let me try
and explain.  It's about my son, Billy.  He's always been a good, normal
ten  year old boy.  Well, last spring we sat down after dinner to select a
summer  camp for Billy.  We sorted through the camp brochures.  There were
the usual  camps with swimming, canoeing, games, singing by the campfire
you know. There were sports camps and specialty camps for weight reduction,
music, military camps and camps that specialized in Tibetan knot tying.  I
tried to  talk him into Camp Winnepoopoo.  It's where he went last year.
(He made an adorable picture out of painted pinto beans and macaroni).
Billy would have none of it. Billy pulled a brochure out of his pocket.  It
was for a COMPUTER CAMP|  We should have put our foot down right there, if
only we had known.  He left three weeks ago.  I don't know what's happened.
He's  changed.  I can't explain it. See for yourself. These are some of my
little Billy's letters.

Dear Mom,
        The kids are dorky nerds.  The food stinks.  The computers are the only
good part.  We're learning how to program.  Late at night is the best time
to program, so they let us stay up.
                 Love, Billy.

Dear Mom,
        Camp is O.K.  Last night we had pizza in the middle of the night. We all get to choose what we want to drink.  I drink Classic Coke.  By the way,
can you make Szechwan food?  I'm getting used to it now.  Gotta go, it's
time for the flowchart class.
                 Love, Billy.

 P.S. This is written on a word processor. Pretty swell, huh? It's spell
checked too.

Dear Mom,
        Don't worry.  We do regular camp stuff. We told ghost stories by the glow of the green computer screens.  It was real neat.  I don't have much of a
tan 'cause we don't go outside very often.  You can't see the computer
screen in the sunlight anyway.  That wimp camp I went to last year fed us
weird food too. Lay off, Mom. I'm okay, really.
                     Love, Billy.

Dear Mom,
        I'm fine. I'm sleeping enough. I'm eating enough.  This is the best camp ever.  We scared the counselor with some phony worm code.  It was real
funny.  He got mad and yelled.  Frederick says it's okay. Can you send more
money? I spent mine on a pocket protector and a box of blank diskettes.
I've got to chip in on the phone bill.  Did you know that you can talk to
people on a computer?  Give my regards to Dad.
                    Love, Billy.

Dear Mother,
        Forget the money for the telephone.  We've got a way to not pay.  Sorry I haven't written. I've been learning a lot. I'm real good at getting onto
any computer in the country.  It's really easy! I got into the university's
in less than fifteen minutes.  Frederick did it in five, he's going to show
me how. Frederick is my bunk partner.  He's really smart.  He says that I
shouldn't call myself Billy anymore.  So, I'm not.
                   Signed, William.

Dear Mother,
        How nice of you to come up on Parents Day.  Why'd you get so upset? I
haven't gained that much weight.  The glasses aren't real. Everybody wears
them. I was trying to fit in.  Believe me, the tape on them is cool.  I
thought that you'd be proud of my program. After all, I've made some money
on it.  A publisher is sending a check for $30,000. Anyway, I've paid for
the next six weeks of camp.  I won't be home until late August.
                    Regards, William.

Mother,
        Stop treating me like a child.  True -- physically I am only ten years
old. It was silly of you to try to kidnap me.  Do not try again. Remember,
I can make your life miserable (i.e. - the bank, credit bureau, and
government computers). I am not kidding.  O.K.?  I won't write again and
this is your only warning. The emotions of this interpersonal communication
drain me.
                    Sincerely, William.

        See what I mean? It's been two weeks since I've heard from my little boy. What can I do, Mr. Dvorak?  I know that it's probably too late to save my
little Billy.  But, if by printing these letters you can save JUST ONE
...CHILD from a life of programming, please, I beg of you to do so.  Thank
you very much.

           Sally Gates, Concerned Parent

____________________________________________

http://www.geocities.com/SouthBeach/Marina/4839

------------------------------

Date:    Wed, 19 Mar 1997 17:24:04 -0500
From:    Joshua Ostroff <joshua@VMR.COM>
Subject: fwd: A short history of medicine <not offensive>

[Author unknown]

I have an earache...

  2000 B.C. - Here, eat this root.

  1000 A.D. - That root is heathen.  Here, say this prayer.

  1850 A.D. - That prayer is superstition.  Here, drink this potion.

  1940 A.D. - That potion is snake oil.  Here, swallow this pill.

  1985 A.D. - That pill is ineffective.  Here, take this antibiotic.

  2000 A.D. - That antibiotic is artificial.  Here, eat this root.

------------------------------

End of HUMOR Digest - 19 Mar 1997 to 20 Mar 1997
************************************************
