Occasional Observations

This is hilarious! Sadly, I think some people still think this is how computers work!

Mainframe

In fact, computers do not have brains like we do.  They cannot really think for themselves except when they are doing complicated arithmetic. The important thinking is done by humans who feed them with information called programs. If computers are not regularly fed, they may become listless and unhappy.

http://gadgets.boingboing.net/2008/12/24/how-it-works-the-com.html

My friend Al Friebe sent this one in:

In the spirit of the WWF, I’d like to offer my script for the next presidential debate …

Moderator: In the corner to my liberal left, the Democratic candidate, Barack Obama! And in the corner to my reactionary right, the Republican candidate, John McCain! All right, gentlemen, I want you to shake hands, fist bump, and come out fighting!

McCain: Good evening, and thanks for inviting me. I’d like to open tonight by pointing out that my opponent’s middle name is “HUSSEIN”, as in “Saddam HUSSEIN”!

Obama: Good evening. My opponent’s name is “John”, as in “John Wilkes Booth”!

McCain: Have you heard that Obama can’t account for two years of his life? Could it be that he spent it at a madrassah or terrorist training camp?

Obama: And McCain can’t account for five years of his! POW … maybe! Or maybe he spent the time at the Kremlin, consorting with his comrades and political masters!

McCain: My opponent pals around with terrorists!

Obama: And mine pals around with Barbie!

McCain: My friends, did I mention that that one is black? That his wife is black? And that his kids are black, my friends?

Obama: After five years allegedly spent in a torture chamber, my opponent might be schizophenic, paranoid or both!

McCain: He’s a terrorist!

Obama: He’s a racist!

McCain: Traitor!

Obama: Codger!

Moderator: Thank you, gentlemen! And good night from the Mainstream Media!

Sam Harris, in an article for Newsweek, defends the concept of being elite and questions our political system where mediocrity is rewarded.  From the article:

Ask yourself: how has “elitism” become a bad word in American politics? There is simply no other walk of life in which extraordinary talent and rigorous training are denigrated. We want elite pilots to fly our planes, elite troops to undertake our most critical missions, elite athletes to represent us in competition and elite scientists to devote the most productive years of their lives to curing our diseases. And yet, when it comes time to vest people with even greater responsibilities, we consider it a virtue to shun any and all standards of excellence. When it comes to choosing the people whose thoughts and actions will decide the fates of millions, then we suddenly want someone just like us, someone fit to have a beer with, someone down-to-earth—in fact, almost anyone, provided that he or she doesn’t seem too intelligent or well educated.

Harris echos my thoughts that the idea that Governor Palin might have input to, or even one day direct US foreign policy is very scary.  It’s not the inexperience that worries me — it’s the experiences she has had up to this point.

I want to see our “best and brightest” get into politics, but unfortunately, there is no motivation for them to do so.

A big city lawyer went duck hunting in rural Tennessee. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing. The litigator responded, ‘I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I’m going to retrieve it.’ The old farmer replied, ‘This is my property, and you are not coming over here.’ The indignant lawyer said, ‘I am one of the best trial attorneys in the United States and, if you don’t let me get that duck, I’ll sue you and take everything you own.’

The old farmer smiled and said, ‘Apparently, you don’t know how we settle disputes in Tennessee. We settle small disagreements with the ‘Three  Kick Rule.” The lawyer asked, ‘What is the ‘Three Kick Rule’?’ The farmer eplied, ‘Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, I get to go first. I kick you three times and then you kick me three times and so on back and forth until someone gives up.’ The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom.

The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the attorney. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy steel toed work boot into the lawyer’s groin and dropped him to his knees.  His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer’s last meal gushing from his mouth. The lawyer was on all fours when the farmer’s third kick to his rear end, sent him face-first into a fresh cow pie.

The lawyer summoned every bit of his will and managed to get to his feet.  Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, ‘Okay, you old fart.  Now it’s my turn.’ The old farmer smiled and said  ‘Nah, I give up. You can have the duck.

As a pre-teen (and even into teenage years), I enjoyed reading Mad Magazine.  It sometimes still gives me a chuckle. I guess an occasional sophomoric chuckle is one of my guilty pleasures (along with South Park, Ren & Stimpy, etc.)  What I always enjoyed, and still do, is the Spy vs. Spy feature.  Something about ironic endings…

My friend Kevin Schweers sent me this one:

Planting The Tomatoes

An old Italian man lived alone in the country. He wanted to dig his tomato garden, but it was very hard work as the ground was hard.  His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison.

The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Vincent,

I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.

Love, Dad.

A few days later, he received a letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

Don’t dig up that garden. That’s where I buried the BODIES.

Love, Vinnie.

At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances.

Love, Vinnie.