What’s the difference between a computer and a woman?
A computer will accept a three-and-a-half-inch floppy.
A truck driver, hauling a tractor-trailer load of computers, stops for a beer. As he approaches the bar, he sees a big sign on the door that says, “COMPUTER NERDS NOT ALLOWED – ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!” He enters and sits down.
The bartender comes over to him, sniffs, and says that he smells kind of nerdy. He then asks him what he does for a living. The truck driver explains to him that he drives a truck, and the smell is just from the computers he is hauling. The bartender serves him a beer and says, “OK, truck drivers aren’t nerds.”
As he is sipping his beer, a skinny guy walks in wearing a pair of glasses with tape around the middle, a pocket protector with twelve kinds of pens and pencils, and a belt that is at least a foot too long. The bartender, without saying a word, pulls out a shotgun and blows the guy away. The truck driver asks him why he did that.
The bartender replied, “Don’t worry. The computer nerds are in season because they are overpopulating Silicon Valley. You don’t even need a license.”
So the truck driver finishes his beer, gets back in his truck, and heads for the freeway. Suddenly, he veers to avoid an accident, and the load shifts. The back door breaks open and computers spill out all over the road. He jumps out and sees a crowd already forming, snatching up all of the computers. The scavengers are comprised of engineers, accountants and programmers – computer geeks. Each of them wearing the nerdiest clothes he has ever seen.
He can’t let them steal his whole load. So remembering what happened in the bar, he pulls out his gun and starts blasting away, killing several of them instantly. A highway patrol officer comes zooming up and jumps out of the car screaming at him to stop.
The truck driver said, “What’s wrong? I thought computer nerds were in season.”
“Well, sure,” says the patrolman, “But you can’t bait ’em!”
What’s the difference between a computer and a woman?
A computer will accept a three-and-a-half-inch floppy.
In the realm of the Mighty King Gates who has pulled the sword from the stone and slaughtered everyone with it, comes the knights of the MS Table:
Sir DOS: Plain complexion and no armor. Rides very stably on his mare. He very rarely falls, but knows only the most basic combat tactics and is very difficult to talk to, since he speaks and understands no more than eight-letter words. King Gates plots to murder him.
Sir Windows 1.0: Sir DOS’s twin brother with a bad toupee. He falls off his horse quite frequently and knows no more than Sir DOS. Just as difficult to communicate with due to his obsession with eight-letter words. He was killed in his first battle. King Gates pretends this one never existed.
Sir Windows 3.x: Sir Windows 1.0’s best friend. He is a wee bit more stable on his horse than Sir Windows 1.0, yet not as good as Sir DOS. He’s got some really neat designs on his shield but still does not know much more than Sir DOS. Sir Windows 3.x has yet to overcome his devotion to eight-letter words. King Gates is always asking, ‘Why can’t you be more like that nice Sir Windows95?’
Sir Windows95: Sir Windows 3.x’s Brother. He’s got the same designs on his shield, but his armor is very shiny. Knows advanced combat skills, but never really puts them to use. Not confined to eight- letter words anymore, but it depends who he’s talking to. Claims to be able to converse with many people at once, but if he tries to coverse with too many, he’ll fall right off his horse and land on top of somebody. King Gates is proud of this one.
Sir Windows NT: Sir Windows95’s tough-guy uncle. He’s got duller designs on his shield, but the same shiny armor. His armor is virtually impenetrable, but a pain to get into and impossible to get out of — all he can do is add more layers. Falls off his horse every once in a while, and everyone else goes right with him. Can converse with many people at once without falling off. He knows advanced combat skills and uses them when necessary. Has the same problems with eight-letter words as Sir Windows95. This is King Gates’ favorite thing to show off. Now we leave the realm of the Mighty King Gates and find the wandering swordsman of the land:
Sir UNIX: Does not do battle and wears only chain mail. He finds all the information he can and his only goal is to distribute it to others who ask. Knows games and will play them, but likes work better. King Gates has sent Sir Windows NT out to kill and mutilate this knight.
Sir MAC OS: Started the fad of the shiny armor and claims the knights of the realm of King Gates stole his ideas. Lately his popularity has declined. And recently he has made an alliance with King Gates. He does not know any useful battle skills and will tell you only what he thinks you should know. The good thing about him is that he has no problem with long words.
Sir OS/2: Spied on Sir Windows 3.x and Sir Windows95 and copied them. He was popular for a time, but now many refuse to acknowledge his exsitstence. There is a rumor that he has a son named Warp.
King Gates reigns high over all that is his and destroys or consumes all that is not. And these are the OS Knights.
This memo is to announce the development of a new software system which will be Year 2000 compliant. known as:
“Millennia Year Application Software System” (MYASS).
Next Monday there will be a meeting in which I will show MYASS to everyone. We will hold demonstrations throughout the month so that all employees will have an opportunity to get a
good look at MYASS. We have not addressed networking aspects yet, so currently only one person at a time can use MYASS. This restriction will be removed after MYASS expands.
Some employees have begun using the program already. This morning I walked into a subordinate’s office and was not surprised to find that he had his nose buried in MYASS. Some of the less technical people may be somewhat afraid of MYASS. Last week my secretary said to me, “I’m a little nervous, I never put anything in MYASS before.” I helped her through the first time and afterward she admitted that it was relatively painless and she was actually looking forward to doing it again, and was even ready to kiss MYASS. There have been concerns over the virus that was found in MYASS upon initial installation, but the virus has been eliminated and we were able to save MYASS. In the future, however, protection will be required prior to entering MYASS.
This database will encompass all information associated with the business. As you begin using the program, feel free to put anything you want in MYASS. As MYASS grows larger, we envision a time when it will be commonplace for a supervisor to hand work to an employee and say, “here, stick this in MYASS.”
You’d live in a place where no two people had the same name, and all were hot 17/f cheerleaders with a fetish for pierced gay Dobermans in spandex.
You’d only pay $19.95 a month to live there, but half the time you tried to leave your house, the door would be stuck.
Once you got outside, even if you were in a hurry, you’d be assaulted by slimy little door-to-door salescreeps offering you great AOL 14.4 modems for only $399.99
The commute to work is just a double-click away, but every time you try to leave your driveway, the flow of traffic knocks you back into your yard.
48 hours after moving in, your mailbox would be overflowing with special offers, promotions and discounts from www.getlaid.com
The local post office would tell your mother you’re not a known resident.
The local post office wouldn’t forward your mail to you when you move.
The administration would kick you out of town for cursing after one of those brutal toe stubs.
If you saw a crime and called 911, they’d reply a week later with a form letter saying how you “really are important to us.”
The administration would tell your boss to either pay up, or move his slack-ass company somewhere else.
Everyone on the street would have something to do with kiddy porn, and this business would account for 75% of all city revenue.
Every time you went to the mall, people would run up to you and violently scream M/F??!!, AGE/SEX?!?! Or g0t PH1SH d3wd?!11 while little kids called your cell phone saying “Wanna SCREW?”
Those that didn’t do that would call you and say “Hi, I’m j0e hax0r from the town council. We had a database crash and lost your tax records. Please give us your address and the key to your house or we will be forced to evict you and your family.”
Every time you went shopping, you’d be kicked out of the store by a bouncer screaming “WE’RE SORRY, THIS STORE IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE.”
Whenever you traveled to other cities, people would see your license tag and laugh behind your back.
Even your 3 year old son would know the intimate personal details of the town security expert.
You’d occasionally be sent home during the day by another bouncer telling you that the city has performed an illegal operation, but that it’s really the Earth’s fault.
The local McDonalds sign would be realistically changed to “McHax0r Wuz H3r3” and “Gr33tz 2 K}It0sawruz” almost daily. Police don’t investigate, but do show up with little scrubby tools, or just remove the sign altogether.
Half the kids in the daycare you use are thinly disguised, fat, hairy, drooling, diapered men holding sacks of candy.
Your daughter would disappear to the No-Tell Motel every night, and you’d foot the bill.
Putting up controversial art in your home would result in the police bashing in your door, throwing your ass on the floor, and kicking the crap out of you while saying “Ya got two chances left, dickface. ROFLMAO LOL!!”
You’d send your kids to school for history, math, and science, but they’d wind up studying ph1shing, one-handed typing, and annoying acronyms.
You’d not have any idea who your neighbors are, and most new arrivals would move in at night, stuff everyone’s mailbox with crap, and vacate before sun-up.
The administration would secretly sell off chunks of their personal land in the city, while buying up neighboring cities with imaginary funds.
The administration would build a huge, state- of- the- art park, and allow the kids to play there free, then suddenly demand money while ripping down the swings and beating the kids currently playing there.
Don’t forget the AOL playground, which is locked so that the kiddies can not get out “for safety reasons,” and then hordes of perverts & pedophiles are allowed in.
The police would work for free out of some sort of “duty” to the city, but would secretly only be doing it for the free food stamps.
Upon waking every morning, a voice from above would shout, “HEY! YOU DO WANT A GODDAMN AOL VISA, DON’T YOU?” To which you say “no.” The voice then replies, “OK, I’LL ASK YOU TOMMOROW.”
A trip to the local library would find you a few ancient doom 2 patches, commercial pix of Pamela Anderson Lee, and a viral copy of PkZip 2.04g
Community events would be periodically interrupted because of the speaker randomly flying out of the meeting hall and appearing several minutes later with some stupid comment about a Punt Monster.
Your neighbors would be called to leave on pilgrimages to a mystical land called USENET, where they would bleat the virtues of your fair city.
Somewhere in another city, David Cassel would be sitting with a telescope trained on City Hall, smiling contentedly.
There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed a desire to become a “great” writer.
When asked to define “great” he said “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, wail, howl in pain, desperation, and anger!”
He now works for Microsoft writing error messages.