Freebsd Fortunes 2

        NEW YORK-- Kraft Foods, Inc. announced today that its board of
directors unanimously rejected the $11 billion takeover bid by Philip
Morris and Co. A Kraft spokesman stated in a press conference that the
offer was rejected because the $90-per-share bid did not reflect the
true value of the company.
        Wall Street insiders, however, tell quite a different story.
Apparently, the Kraft board of directors had all but signed the takeover
agreement when they learned of Philip Morris' marketing plans for one of
their major Middle East subsidiaries.  To a person, the board voted to
reject the bid when they discovered that the tobacco giant intended to
reorganize Israeli Cheddar, Ltd., and name the new company Cheeses of
Nazareth.

        "No, I understand now," Auberon said, calm in the woods -- it was so
simple, really.  "I didn't, for a long time, but I do now.  You just can't
hold people, you can't own them.  I mean it's only natural, a natural process
really.  Meet.  Love.  Part.  Life goes on.  There was never any reason to
expect her to stay always the same -- I mean `in love,' you know."  There were
those doubt-quotes of Smoky's, heavily indicated.  "I don't hold a grudge.  I
can't."
        "You do," Grandfather Trout said.  "And you don't understand."
                -- Little, Big, "John Crowley"

        Now she speaks rapidly.  "Do you know *why* you want to program?"
        He shakes his head.  He hasn't the faintest idea.
        "For the sheer *joy* of programming!" she cries triumphantly.
"The joy of the parent, the artist, the craftsman.  "You take a program,
born weak and impotent as a dimly-realized solution.  You nurture the
program and guide it down the right path, building, watching it grow ever
stronger.  Sometimes you paint with tiny strokes, a keystroke added here,
a keystroke changed there."  She sweeps her arm in a wide arc.  "And other
times you savage whole *blocks* of code, ripping out the program's very
*essence*, then beginning anew.  But always building, creating, filling the
program with your own personal stamp, your own quirks and nuances.  Watching
the program grow stronger, patching it when it crashes, until finally it can
stand alone -- proud, powerful, and perfect.  This is the programmer's finest
hour!"  Softly at first, then louder, he hears the strains of a Sousa march.
"This ... this is your canvas! your clay!  Go forth and create a masterwork!"

        Obviously the subject of death was in the air, but more as something
to be avoided than harped upon.
        Possibly the horror that Zaphod experienced at the prospect of being
reunited with his deceased relatives led on to the thought that they might
just feel the same way about him and, what's more, be able to do something
about helping to postpone this reunion.
                -- Douglas Adams

        "Oh sure, this costume may look silly, but it lets me get in and out
of dangerous situations -- I work for a federal task force doing a survey on
urban crime.  Look, here's my ID, and here's a number you can call, that will
put you through to our central base in Atlanta.  Go ahead, call -- they'll
confirm who I am.
        "Unless, of course, the Astro-Zombies have destroyed it."
                -- Captain Freedom

        Old Barlow was a crossing-tender at a junction where an express train
demolished an automobile and it's occupants. Being the chief witness, his
testimony was vitally important. Barlow explained that the night was dark,
and he waved his lantern frantically, but the driver of the car paid
no attention to the signal.
        The railroad company won the case, and the president of the company
complimented the old-timer for his story. "You did wonderfully," he said,
"I was afraid you would waver under testimony."
        "No sir," exclaimed the senior, "but I sure was afraid that durned
lawyer was gonna ask me if my lantern was lit."

        On his first day as a bus driver, Maxey Eckstein handed in
receipts of $65.  The next day his take was $67.  The third day's
income was $62.  But on the fourth day, Eckstein emptied no less than
$283 on the desk before the cashier.
        "Eckstein!" exclaimed the cashier.  "This is fantastic.  That
route never brought in money like this!  What happened?"
        "Well, after three days on that cockamamy route, I figured
business would never improve, so I drove over to Fourteenth Street and
worked there.  I tell you, that street is a gold mine!"

        On the day of his anniversary, Joe was frantically shopping
around for a present for his wife.  He knew what she wanted, a
grandfather clock for the living room, but he found the right one
almost impossible to find.  Finally, after many hours of searching, Joe
found just the clock he wanted, but the store didn't deliver.  Joe,
desperate, paid the shopkeeper, hoisted the clock onto his back, and
staggered out onto the sidewalk.  On the way home, he passed a bar.
Just as he reached the door, a drunk stumbled out and crashed into Joe,
sending himself, Joe, and the clock into the gutter.  Murphy's law
being in effect, the clock ended up in roughly a thousand pieces.
        "You stupid drunk!" screamed Joe, jumping up from the
wreckage.  "Why don't you look where the hell you're going!"
        With quiet dignity the drunk stood up somewhat unsteadily and
dusted himself off.  "And why don't you just wear a wristwatch like a
normal person?"

        On the occasion of Nero's 25th birthday, he arrived at the Colosseum
to find that the Praetorian Guard had prepared a treat for him in the arena.
There stood 25 naked virgins, like candles on a cake, tied to poles, burning
alive.  "Wonderful!" exclaimed the deranged emperor, "but one of them isn't
dead yet.  I can see her lips moving.  Go quickly and find out what she is
saying."
        The centurion saluted, and hurried out to the virgin, getting as near
the flames as he dared, and listened intently.  Then he turned and ran back
to the imperial box.  "She is not talking," he reported to Nero, "she is
singing."
        "Singing?" said the astounded emperor.  "Singing what?"
        "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

        On the other hand, the TCP camp also has a phrase for OSI people.
There are lots of phrases.  My favorite is `nitwit' -- and the rationale
is the Internet philosophy has always been you have extremely bright,
non-partisan researchers look at a topic, do world-class research, do
several competing implementations, have a bake-off, determine what works
best, write it down and make that the standard.
        The OSI view is entirely opposite.  You take written contributions
from a much larger community, you put the contributions in a room of
committee people with, quite honestly, vast political differences and all
with their own political axes to grind, and four years later you get
something out, usually without it ever having been implemented once.
        So the Internet perspective is implement it, make it work well,
then write it down, whereas the OSI perspective is to agree on it, write
it down, circulate it a lot and now we'll see if anyone can implement it
after it's an international standard and every vendor in the world is
committed to it.  One of those processes is backwards, and I don't think
it takes a Lucasian professor of physics at Oxford to figure out which.
                -- Marshall Rose, "The Pied Piper of OSI"