page 46
...a report citing a study by Dr. Thomas C. Chalmers, of the Mount Sinai
Medical Center in New York, which compared two groups that were being used
to test the theory that ascorbic acid is a cold preventative.  "The group
on placebo who thought they were on ascorbic acid," says Dr. Chalmers,
"had fewer colds than the group on ascorbic acid who thought they were
on placebo."
	page 56
The placebo is proof that there is no real separation between mind and body.
Illness is always an interaction between both.  It can begin in the mind and
affect the body, or it can begin in the body and affect the mind, both of
which are served by the same bloodstream.  Attempts to treat most mental
diseases as though they were completely free of physical causes and attempts
to treat most bodily diseases as though the mind were in no way involved must
be considered archaic in the light of new evidence about the way the human
body functions.
		-- Norman Cousins,
		   "Anatomy of an Illness as Perceived by the Patient"

	Penn's aunts made great apple pies at low prices.  No one else in
town could compete with the pie rates of Penn's aunts.
	During the American Revolution, a Britisher tried to raid a farm.  He
stumbled across a rock on the ground and fell, whereupon an aggressive Rhode
Island Red hopped on top.  Seeing this, the farmer commented, "Chicken catch
a Tory!"
	A wife started serving chopped meat, Monday hamburger, Tuesday meat
loaf, Wednesday tartar steak, and Thursday meatballs.  On Friday morning her
husband snarled, "How now, ground cow?"
	A journalist, thrilled over his dinner, asked the chef for the recipe.
Retorted the chef, "Sorry, we have the same policy as you journalists, we
never reveal our sauce."
	A new chef from India was fired a week after starting the job.  He
kept favoring curry.
	A couple of kids tried using pickles instead of paddles for a Ping-Pong
game.  They had the volley of the Dills.

	People of all sorts of genders are reporting great difficulty,
these days, in selecting the proper words to refer to those of the female
persuasion.
	"Lady," "woman," and "girl" are all perfectly good words, but
misapplying them can earn one anything from the charge of vulgarity to a good
swift smack.  We are messing here with matters of deference, condescension,
respect, bigotry, and two vague concepts, age and rank.  It is troubling
enough to get straight who is really what.  Those who deliberately misuse
the terms in a misbegotten attempt at flattery are asking for it.
	A woman is any grown-up female person.  A girl is the un-grown-up
version.  If you call a wee thing with chubby cheeks and pink hair ribbons a
"woman," you will probably not get into trouble, and if you do, you will be
able to handle it because she will be under three feet tall.  However, if you
call a grown-up by a child's name for the sake of implying that she has a
youthful body, you are also implying that she has a brain to match.

	"Perhaps he is not honest," Mr. Frostee said inside Cobb's head,
sounding a bit worried.
	"Of course he isn't," Cobb answered. "What we have to look out for
is him calling the cops anyway, or trying to blackmail us for more money."
	"I think you should kill him and eat his brain," Mr. Frostee
said quickly.
	"That's not the answer to *every* problem in interpersonal relations,"
Cobb said, hopping out.
		-- Rudy Rucker, "Software"

	Phases of a Project:
(1)	Exultation.
(2)	Disenchantment.
(3)	Confusion.
(4)	Search for the Guilty.
(5)	Punishment for the Innocent.
(6)	Distinction for the Uninvolved.

	Phil [Record] was known as the Hat because he always wore a felt
snap brim.  It was the standard uniform for police reporters, for one
reason: it made it easier for them to pass themselves off as detectives.
We had an informal code of ethics then; we never lied about who we were.
But if people mistook us for the police, that was their problem, not ours.
If they thought they were giving confidential information to an investigator,
well, that was their problem, too.  As we understood the First Amendment,
everyone had a right to talk to the _Star-Telegram_, even if they didn't
know they were talking to the _Star-Telegram_.
		-- Bob Schieffer, "This Just In"

	Plumbing is one of the easier of do-it-yourself activities,
requiring only a few simple tools and a willingness to stick your arm
into a clogged toilet.  In fact, you can solve many home plumbing
problems, such as annoying faucet drip, merely by turning up the
radio.  But before we get into specific techniques, let's look at how
plumbing works.
	A plumbing system is very much like your electrical system,
except that instead of electricity, it has water, and instead of wires,
it has pipes, and instead of radios and waffle irons, it has faucets
and toilets.  So the truth is that your plumbing systems is nothing at
all like your electrical system, which is good, because electricity can
kill you.
		-- Dave Barry, "The Taming of the Screw"

	Price Wang's programmer was coding software.  His fingers danced upon
the keyboard.  The program compiled without an error message, and the program
ran like a gentle wind.
	Excellent!" the Price exclaimed, "Your technique is faultless!"
	"Technique?" said the programmer, turning from his terminal, "What I
follow is the Tao -- beyond all technique.  When I first began to program I
would see before me the whole program in one mass.  After three years I no
longer saw this mass.  Instead, I used subroutines.  But now I see nothing.
My whole being exists in a formless void.  My senses are idle.  My spirit,
free to work without a plan, follows its own instinct.  In short, my program
writes itself.  True, sometimes there are difficult problems.  I see them
coming, I slow down, I watch silently.  Then I change a single line of code
and the difficulties vanish like puffs of idle smoke.  I then compile the
program.  I sit still and let the joy of the work fill my being.  I close my
eyes for a moment and then log off."
	Price Wang said, "Would that all of my programmers were as wise!"
		-- Geoffrey James, "The Tao of Programming"

	"Reintegration complete," ZORAC advised.  "We're back in the
universe again..."  An unusually long pause followed, "...but I don't
know which part.  We seem to have changed our position in space."  A
spherical display in the middle of the floor illuminated to show the
starfield surrounding the ship.
	"Several large, artificial constructions are approaching us,"
ZORAC announced after a short pause.  "The designs are not familiar, but
they are obviously the products of intelligence.  Implications: we have
been intercepted deliberately by a means unknown, for a purpose unknown,
and transferred to a place unknown by a form of intelligence unknown.
Apart from the unknowns, everything is obvious."
		-- James P. Hogan, "Giants Star"

	Reporters like Bill Greider from the Washington Post and Him
Naughton of the New York Times, for instance, had to file long, detailed,
and relatively complex stories every day -- while my own deadline fell
every two weeks -- but neither of them ever seemed in a hurry about
getting their work done, and from time to time they would try to console
me about the terrible pressure I always seemed to be laboring under.
	Any $100-an-hour psychiatrist could probably explain this problem
to me, in thirteen or fourteen sessions, but I don't have time for that.
No doubt it has something to do with a deep-seated personality defect, or
maybe a kink in whatever blood vessel leads into the pineal gland...  On
the other hand, it might be something as simple & basically perverse as
whatever instinct it is that causes a jackrabbit to wait until the last
possible second to dart across the road in front of a speeding car.
		-- Hunter S. Thompson, "Fear and Loathing:
		   On the Campaign Trail"

	"Richard, in being so fierce toward my vampire, you were doing
what you wanted to do, even though you thought it was going to hurt
somebody else. He even told you he'd be hurt if..."
	"He was going to suck my blood!"
	"Which is what we do to anyone when we tell them we'll be hurt
if they don't live our way."
...
	"The thing that puzzles you," he said, "is an accepted saying that
happens to be impossible.  The phrase is hurt somebody else.  We choose,
ourselves, to be hurt or not to be hurt, no matter what.  Us who decides.
Nobody else.  My vampire told you he'd be hurt if you didn't let him?  That's
his decision to be hurt, that's his choice.  What you do about it is your
decision, your choice: give him blood; ignore him; tie him up; drive a stake
through his heart.  If he doesn't want the holly stake, he's free to resist,
in whatever way he wants.  It goes on and on, choices, choices."
	"When you look at it that way..."
	"Listen," he said, "it's important.  We are all.  Free.  To do.
Whatever.  We want.  To do."
		-- Richard Bach, "Illusions"

	Risch's decision procedure for integration, not surprisingly,
uses a recursion on the number and type of the extensions from the
rational functions needed to represent the integrand.  Although the
algorithm follows and critically depends upon the appropriate structure
of the input, as in the case of multivariate factorization, we cannot
claim that the algorithm is a natural one.  In fact, the creator of
differential algebra, Ritt, committed suicide in the early 1950's,
largely, it is claimed, because few paid attention to his work.  Probably
he would have received more attention had he obtained the algorithm as
well.
		-- Joel Moses, "Algorithms and Complexity", ed. J. F. Traub

	Robert Kennedy's 1964 Senatorial campaign planners told him that
their intention was to present him to the television viewers as a sincere,
generous person.  "You going to use a double?" asked Kennedy.

	Thumbing through a promotional pamphlet prepared for his 1964
Senatorial campaign, Robert Kennedy came across a photograph of himself
shaking hands with a well-known labor leader.
	"There must be a better photo that this," said Kennedy to the
advertising men in charge of his campaign.
	"What's wrong with this one?" asked one adman.
	"That fellow's in jail," said Kennedy.
		-- Bill Adler, "The Washington Wits"

	SAFETY
I can live without
Someone I love
But not without
Someone I need.

	Sam went to his psychiatrist complaining of a hatred for elephants.
"I can't stand elephants," he explained.  "I lie awake nights despising
them.  The thought of an elephant fills me with loathing."
	"Sam," said the psychiatrist, "there's only one thing for you to do.
Go to Africa, organize a safari, find an elephant in the jungle and shoot it.
That way you'll get it out of your system."
	Sam immediately made arrangements for a safari hunt in Africa,
inviting his best friend to join him.  They arrived in Nairobi and lost no
time getting out on the jungle trails.  After they had been hunting for
several days, Sam's best friend grabbed him by the arm one morning and
yelled at him:
	"Sam, Sam, Sam!  Over there behind that tree there's and elephant!
Sam -- Get your gun -- no, no, not THAT gun -- the rifle with the longer
barrel!  Now aim it!  QUICK!  SAM!  QUICK!  No!  Not that way -- this way!
Be sure you don't jerk the trigger!  Wait SAM!  Don't let him see you!  Aim
at his head!"
	Sam whirled around, took aim, and killed his friend.  He was put in
prison and his psychiatrist flew to Africa to visit him.  "I sent you over
here to kill an elephant and instead you shoot your best friend," the
psychiatrist said.  "Why?"
	"Well," Sam replied, "there's only one thing in the world that I
hate more than elephants and that is a loudmouth know-it-all!"

	Seems George was playing his usual eighteen holes on Saturday
afternoon.  Teeing off from the 17th, he sliced into the rough over near
the edge of the fairway.  Just as he was about to chip out, he noticed a
long funeral procession going past on a nearby street.  Reverently, George
removed his hat and stood at attention until the procession had passed.
Then he continued his game, finishing with a birdie on the eighteenth.
Later, at the clubhouse, a fellow golfer greet George.  "Say, that was a
nice gesture you made today, George.
	"What do you mean?" asked George.
	"Well, it was nice of you to take off your cap and stand
respectfully when that funeral went by," the friend replied.
	"Oh, yes," said George.  "Well, we were married 17 years, you
know."

	"Seven years and six months!"  Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully.
"An uncomfortable sort of age.  Now if you'd asked MY advice, I'd have
said 'Leave off at seven' -- but it's too late now."
	"I never ask advice about growing,"  Alice said indignantly.
	"Too proud?" the other enquired.
	Alice felt even more indignant at this suggestion.  "I mean,"
she said, "that one can't help growing older."
	"ONE can't, perhaps," said Humpty Dumpty; "but TWO can.  With
proper assistance, you might have left off at seven."
		-- Lewis Carroll,
		   "Through the Looking-Glass,
		   and What Alice Found There" (1871)

	Several students were asked to prove that all odd integers are prime.
	The first student to try to do this was a math student.  "Hmmm...
Well, 1 is prime, 3 is prime, 5 is prime, and by induction, we have that all
the odd integers are prime."
	The second student to try was a man of physics who commented, "I'm not
sure of the validity of your proof, but I think I'll try to prove it by
experiment."  He continues, "Well, 1 is prime, 3 is prime, 5 is prime, 7 is
prime, 9 is...  uh, 9 is... uh, 9 is an experimental error, 11 is prime, 13
is prime...  Well, it seems that you're right."
	The third student to try it was the engineering student, who responded,
"Well, to be honest, actually, I'm not sure of your answer either.  Let's
see...  1 is prime, 3 is prime, 5 is prime, 7 is prime, 9 is... uh, 9 is...
well, if you approximate, 9 is prime, 11 is prime, 13 is prime...  Well, it
does seem right."
	Not to be outdone, the computer science student comes along and says
"Well, you two sort've got the right idea, but you'll end up taking too long!
I've just whipped up a program to REALLY go and prove it."  He goes over to
his terminal and runs his program.  Reading the output on the screen he says,
"1 is prime, 1 is prime, 1 is prime, 1 is prime..."

	She said, "I know you ... you cannot sing."
	I said, "That's nothing, you should hear me play piano."
		-- Morrisey

	"Sheriff, we gotta catch Black Bart."
	"Oh, yeah?  What's he look like?"
	"Well, he's wearin' a paper hat, a paper shirt, paper pants and
paper boots."
	"What's he wanted for?"
	"Rustling."