Bill Gates, Super Ego
One day, Saint Peter called up to Heaven Bill Clinton, Colin Powell, and Bill Gates. He said to them, “I’ve called you here because you are the 3 most influential spokespersons in the world. Go back to Earth and tell everyone there is a God, but he’s blowing up the world tomorrow.”
So, Bill Clinton went back and said, “Fellow Americans, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is there is a God, and the bad news is he’s blowing up the world tomorrow.”
Colin Powell went back and said, “I have some bad news and some good news. The bad news is there is a God and the good news is he’s blowing up the world tomorrow.”
Then, Bill Gates went down, gathered up all his computer buddies on the Internet and said, ” I have some good news. The first part of the good news is I’ve been voted one of the 3 most influential spokespersons in the world. The other good news is the Y2K problem is solved.”
If Your City Was Like AOL
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.
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.
Hot Air Balloon
A man is flying in a hot air balloon and realizes he is lost. He reduces height and spots a man down below. He lowers the balloon further and shouts, “Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?”
The man below says: “Yes. You’re in a hot air balloon, hovering 30 feet above this field.”
“You must work in Information Technology” says the balloonist.
“I do” replies the man. “How did you know?”
“Well” says the balloonist, “Everything you have told me is technically correct, but it’s no use to anyone.”
The man below says, “You must work in business.”
“I do” replies the balloonist, “but how did you know?”
“Well,” says the man, “You don’t know where you are, or where you’re going, but you expect me to be able to help. You’re in the same position you were before we met, but now it’s my fault.”
How to be Annoying in the Computer Lab
• Log on, wait a sec, then get a frightened look on your face and scream, “Oh my God! They’ve found me!” and bolt.
• Laugh uncontrollably for about 3 minutes and then suddenly stop and look suspiciously at everyone who looks at you.
• When your computer is turned off, complain to the monitor on duty that you can’t get the darned thing to work.
• After he/she’s turned it on, wait 5 minutes, turn it off again, and repeat the process for a good half hour.
• Type frantically, often stopping to look at the person next to you evilly.
• Before anyone else is in the lab, connect each computer to a different screen than the one it’s set up with.
• Write a program that plays the “Pokemon” theme song and play it at the highest volume possible over and over again.
• Work normally for a while. Suddenly look amazingly startled by something on the screen and crawl underneath the desk.
• Ask the person next to you if they know how to tap into top-secret Pentagon files.
• Use AIM to make passes at people you don’t know.
• Make a small ritual sacrifice to the computer before you turn it on.
• Bring a chainsaw, but don’t use it. If anyone asks why you have it, say, “Just in case…” mysteriously.
• Type on VAX for awhile. Suddenly start cursing for 3 minutes about everything bad about your life. Then stop and continue typing.
• Enter the lab, undress, and start staring at other people as if they’re crazy while typing.
• Light candles in a pentagram around your terminal before starting.
• Ask around for a spare zip disk. Offer $1. Keep asking until someone agrees. Then, pull a disk out of your fly and say, “Oops. Forgot.”
• Every time you press return and there is processing time required, pray, “Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease,” and scream “YES!” when it finishes.
• “Disk fight!”
• Start making out with the person at the terminal next to you, whether you know them or not.
• Put a straw in your mouth and put your hands in your pockets. Type by hitting the keys with the straw.
• If you’re sitting in a swivel chair, spin around singing “The Thong Song” whenever there is processing time required.
• Draw a picture of a woman (or man) on a piece of paper and tape it to your monitor. Try to seduce it. Act like it hates you and then complain loudly that women (men) are worthless.
• Try to stick a Nintendo cartridge in the disk drive. When it doesn’t work, get the supervisor.
• When you start up a PC, ask loudly where the smiling Apple face is.
• Print out the complete works of Shakespeare, then when it’s all done (two days later) say that all you wanted was a line or two.
• Sit and stare at the screen, chomping on your nails. After doing this for a while, spit them out at the feet of the person next to you.
• Stare at the screen, grind your teeth, stop, look at the person next to you. Repeat procedure, making sure you never provoke the person enough to let them blow up, as this releases tension, and it is • far more effective to let them linger.
• If you have long hair, take a typing break, look for split ends, cut them, and deposit them on your neighbor’s keyboard as you leave.
• Put a large, gold-framed portrait of the British royal family on your desk and loudly proclaim that it inspires you.
• Come to the lab wearing several layers of socks. Remove shoes and place them on top of the monitor. Remove socks layer by layer and drape them around the monitor. Exclaim sudden haiku about the aesthetic beauty of cotton on plastic.
• Take the keyboard and sit under the computer. Type up your paper like this. Then go to the lab supervisor and complain about the bad working conditions.
• Laugh hysterically, shout “You will all perish in a great flood” and continue working.
• Bring some dry ice and make it look like the computer is