"The pyramid is opening!"
	"Which one?"
	"The one with the ever-widening hole in it!"
		-- The Firesign Theatre,
		   "How Can You Be In Two Places At
		   Once When You're Not Anywhere At All"

	The salesman and the system analyst took off to spend a weekend in the
forest, hunting bear.  They'd rented a cabin, and, when they got there, took
their backpacks off and put them inside.  At which point the salesman turned
to his friend, and said, "You unpack while I go and find us a bear."
	Puzzled, the analyst finished unpacking and then went and sat down
on the porch.  Soon he could hear rustling noises in the forest.  The noises
got nearer -- and louder -- and suddenly there was the salesman, running like
hell across the clearing toward the cabin, pursued by one of the largest and
most ferocious grizzly bears the analyst had ever seen.
	"Open the door!", screamed the salesman.
	The analyst whipped open the door, and the salesman ran to the door,
suddenly stopped, and stepped aside.  The bear, unable to stop, continued
through the door and into the cabin.  The salesman slammed the door closed
and grinned at his friend.  "Got him!", he exclaimed, "now, you skin this
one and I'll go rustle us up another!"

	The Tao gave birth to machine language.  Machine language gave birth
to the assembler.
	The assembler gave birth to the compiler.  Now there are ten thousand
languages.
	Each language has its purpose, however humble.  Each language
expresses the Yin and Yang of software.  Each language has its place within
the Tao.
	But do not program in COBOL if you can avoid it.
		-- Geoffrey James, "The Tao of Programming"

	The way my jeweler explained it, it's like insurance.
	Six months' pay isn't much to keep my wife from sleeping around.

A diamond -- pure, sparkling, natural, flawless, forever.  The way marriage
should be but never quite is.  People grow and change and sometimes want to
take their clothes off with strangers.  So when you invest in a fine piece
of diamond jewelry, you're not only making an investment, you're making a
statement.  You're telling the woman you love that you've just spent a lot
of your hard-earned money on her.  Now she owes you the kind of loyalty that
only precious jewelry can buy.  Isn't she worth it?

	The Honeymoon's Over:			from $ 5000
	The Seven Year Itch:			from $10000
	No More Lunchtime Quickies:		from $15000
	Divorce Would Be More Expensive:	from $42000

			A diamond is for leverage.  BeDears

	The wise programmer is told about the Tao and follows it.  The average
programmer is told about the Tao and searches for it.  The foolish programmer
is told about the Tao and laughs at it.  If it were not for laughter, there
would be no Tao.
	The highest sounds are the hardest to hear.  Going forward is a way to
retreat.  Greater talent shows itself late in life.  Even a perfect program
still has bugs.
		-- Geoffrey James, "The Tao of Programming"

	THE WOMBAT

The wombat lives across the seas,
Among the far Antipodes.
He may exist on nuts and berries,
Or then again, on missionaries;
His distant habitat precludes
Conclusive knowledge of his moods.
But I would not engage the wombat
In any form of mortal combat.

	The world's most avid baseball fan (an Aggie) had arrived at the
stadium for the first game of the World Series only to realize he had left
his ticket at home.  Not wanting to miss any of the first inning, he went
to the ticket booth and got in a long line for another seat.  After an hour's
wait he was just a few feet from the booth when a voice called out, "Hey,
Dave!"  The Aggie looked up, stepped out of line and tried to find the owner
of the voice -- with no success.  Then he realized he had lost his place in
line and had to wait all over again.  When the fan finally bought his ticket,
he was thirsty, so he went to buy a drink.  The line at the concession stand
was long, too, but since the game hadn't started he decided to wait.  Just as
he got to the window, a voice called out, "Hey, Dave!"  Again the Aggie tried
to find the voice -- but no luck.  He was very upset as he got back in line
for his drink.  Finally the fan went to his seat, eager for the game to begin.
As he waited for the pitch, he heard the voice calling, "Hey Dave!" once more.
Furious, he stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs, "My name is not
Dave!"

	Then there's the atmosphere -- half the time you can eat the air,
it's got so much stuff floating around in it.  It takes the edge out of
the colors.  Down here even the traffic lights are pastel.  And people!
With a lot of these folks you'd have to check their green cards just to
make sure that they are Earthlings.  Then there's the police.  In Portland,
when some guy goes bananas, the cops rope off a sixteen block area around
him and call a shrink from the medical school who stands atop a patrol car
with a megaphone and shouts, "OK!  THIS!  ALL!  STARTED!  WHEN!  YOU!  WERE!
THREE!  YEARS!  OLD!  ON!  ACCOUNT!  OF!  YOUR MOTHER!  RIGHT?  SO!  LET'S!
TALK!  ABOUT!  IT!"  Down here they don't waste that kind of time.  The LAPD
has SWAT teams composed of guys who make Darth Vader look like Mr. Peepers.
Before they go to bust a bookie joint they mortar it first.
		-- M. Christensen, "A Portland Innocent in LA"

	Then there's the story of the man who avoided reality for 70 years
with drugs, sex, alcohol, fantasy, TV, movies, records, a hobby, lots of
sleep...  And on his 80th birthday died without ever having faced any of
his real problems.
	The man's younger brother, who had been facing reality and all his
problems for 50 years with psychiatrists, nervous breakdowns, tics, tension,
headaches, worry, anxiety and ulcers, was so angry at his brother for having
gotten away scott free that he had a paralyzing stroke.
	The moral to this story is that there ain't no justice that we can
stand to live with.
		-- R. Geis

	"Then what is magic for?" Prince Lir demanded wildly.  "What use is
wizardry if it cannot save a unicorn?"  He gripped the magician's shoulder
hard, to keep from falling.
	Schmendrick did not turn his head.  With a touch of sad mockery in
his voice, he said, "That's what heroes are for."
...
	"Yes, of course," he [Prince Lir] said.  "That is exactly what heroes
are for.  Wizards make no difference, so they say that nothing does, but
heroes are meant to die for unicorns."
		-- P. Beagle, "The Last Unicorn"

	"Then you admit confirming not denying you ever said that?"
	"NO! ... I mean Yes!  WHAT?"
	"I'll put `maybe.'"
		-- Bloom County

	THEORY
Into love and out again,
	Thus I went and thus I go.
Spare your voice, and hold your pen:
	Well and bitterly I know
All the songs were ever sung,
	All the words were ever said;
Could it be, when I was young,
	Someone dropped me on my head?
		-- Dorothy Parker

	There are some goyisha names that just about guarantee that
someone isn't Jewish.  For example, you'll never meet a Jew named
Johnson or Wright or Jones or Sinclair or Ricks or Stevenson or Reid or
Larsen or Jenks.  But some goyisha names just about guarantee that
every other person you meet with that name will be Jewish.  Why is
this?
	Who knows?  Learned rabbis have pondered this question for
centuries and have failed to come up with an answer, and you think _y_o_u
can find one?  Get serious.  You don't even understand why it's
forbidden to eat crab -- fresh cold crab with mayonnaise -- or lobster
-- soft tender morsels of lobster dipped in melted butter.  You don't
even understand a simple thing like that, and yet you hope to discover
why there are more Jews named Miller than Katz?  Fat Chance.
		-- Arthur Naiman, "Every Goy's Guide to Yiddish"

	There are wavelengths that people cannot see, there are
sounds that people cannot hear, and maybe computers have thoughts
that people cannot think.
		-- Richard W. Hamming

	There once was a man who went to a computer trade show.  Each day as
he entered, the man told the guard at the door:
	"I am a great thief, renowned for my feats of shoplifting.  Be
forewarned, for this trade show shall not escape unplundered."
	This speech disturbed the guard greatly, because there were millions
of dollars of computer equipment inside, so he watched the man carefully.
But the man merely wandered from booth to booth, humming quietly to himself.
	When the man left, the guard took him aside and searched his clothes,
but nothing was to be found.
	On the next day of the trade show, the man returned and chided the
guard saying: "I escaped with a vast booty yesterday, but today will be even
better."  So the guard watched him ever more closely, but to no avail.
	On the final day of the trade show, the guard could restrain his
curiosity no longer. "Sir Thief," he said, "I am so perplexed, I cannot live
in peace.  Please enlighten me.  What is it that you are stealing?"
	The man smiled.  "I am stealing ideas," he said.
		-- Geoffrey James, "The Tao of Programming"

	There once was a master programmer who wrote unstructured programs.
A novice programmer, seeking to imitate him, also began to write unstructured
programs.  When the novice asked the master to evaluate his progress, the
master criticized him for writing unstructured programs, saying: "What is
appropriate for the master is not appropriate for the novice.  You must
understand the Tao before transcending structure."
		-- Geoffrey James, "The Tao of Programming"

	There once was this swami who lived above a delicatessen.  Seems one
day he decided to stop in downstairs for some fresh liver.  Well, the owner
of the deli was a bit of a cheap-skate, and decided to pick up a little extra
change at his customer's expense.  Turning quietly to the counterman, he
whispered, "Weigh down upon the swami's liver!"

	There was a college student trying to earn some pocket money by
going from house to house offering to do odd jobs.  He explained this to
a man who answered one door.
	"How much will you charge to paint my porch?" asked the man.
	"Forty dollars."
	"Fine" said the man, and gave the student the paint and brushes.
	Three hours later the paint-splattered lad knocked on the door again.
"All done!", he says, and collects his money.  "By the way," the student says,
"That's not a Porsche, it's a Ferrari."

	There was a knock on the door.  Mrs. Miffin opened it.  "Are
you the Widow Miffin?" a small boy asked.
	"I'm Mrs. Miffin," she replied, "but I'm not a widow."
	"Oh, no?" replied the little boy.  "Wait 'til you see what
they're carrying upstairs!"

	There was a mad scientist (a mad... social... scientist) who kidnapped
three colleagues, an engineer, a physicist, and a mathematician, and locked
each of them in separate cells with plenty of canned food and water but no
can opener.
	A month later, returning, the mad scientist went to the engineer's
cell and found it long empty.  The engineer had constructed a can opener from
pocket trash, used aluminum shavings and dried sugar to make an explosive,
and escaped.
	The physicist had worked out the angle necessary to knock the lids
off the tin cans by throwing them against the wall.  She was developing a good
pitching arm and a new quantum theory.
	The mathematician had stacked the unopened cans into a surprising
solution to the kissing problem; his desiccated corpse was propped calmly
against a wall, and this was inscribed on the floor:
	Theorem: If I can't open these cans, I'll die.
	Proof: assume the opposite...