Freebsd Fortunes 2

        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"

        On this morning in August when I was 13, my mother sent us out pick
tomatoes.  Back in April I'd have killed for a fresh tomato, but in August
they are no more rare or wonderful than rocks.  So I picked up one and threw
it at a crab apple tree, where it made a good *splat*, and then threw a tomato
at my brother.  He whipped one back at me.  We ducked down by the vines,
heaving tomatoes at each other.  My sister, who was a good person, said,
"You're going to get it."  She bent over and kept on picking.
        What a target!  She was 17, a girl with big hips, and bending over,
she looked like the side of a barn.
        I picked up a tomato so big it sat on the ground.  It looked like it
had sat there a week.  The underside was brown, small white worms lived in it,
and it was very juicy.  I stood up and took aim, and went into the windup,
when my mother at the kitchen window called my name in a sharp voice.  I had
to decide quickly.  I decided.
        A rotten Big Boy hitting the target is a memorable sound, like a fat
man doing a belly-flop.  With a whoop and a yell the tomatoee came after
faster than I knew she could run, and grabbed my shirt and was about to brain
me when Mother called her name in a sharp voice.  And my sister, who was a
good person, obeyed and let go -- and burst into tears.  I guess she knew that
the pleasure of obedience is pretty thin compared with the pleasure of hearing
a rotten tomato hit someone in the rear end.
                -- Garrison Keillor, "Lake Wobegon Days"

        Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in The Holiday Season, that very
special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old
traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall.  We
traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we
see a shopper emerge from the mall.  Then we follow her, in very much the same
spirit as the Three Wise Men, who, 2,000 years ago, followed a star, week after
week, until it led them to a parking space.
        We try to keep our bumper about 4 inches from the shopper's calves, to
let the other circling cars know that she belongs to us.  Sometimes, two cars
will get into a fight over whom the shopper belongs to, similar to the way
great white sharks will fight over who gets to eat a snorkeler.  So, we follow
our shopper closely, hunched over the steering wheel, whistling "It's Beginning
to Look a Lot Like Christmas" through our teeth, until we arrive at her car,
which is usually parked several time zones away from the mall.  Sometimes our
shopper tries to indicate she was merely planning to drop off some packages and
go back to shopping.  But, when she hears our engine rev in a festive fashion
and sees the holiday gleam in our eyes, she realizes she would never make it.
                -- Dave Barry, "Holiday Joy -- Or, the Great Parking Lot
                   Skirmish"

        Once there lived a village of creatures along the bottom of a great
crystal river.  Each creature in its own manner clung tightly to the twigs
and rocks of the river bottom, for clinging was their way of life, and
resisting the current what each had learned from birth.  But one creature
said at last, "I trust that the current knows where it is going.  I shall
let go, and let it take me where it will.  Clinging, I shall die of boredom."
        The other creatures laughed and said, "Fool!  Let go, and that current
you worship will throw you tumbled and smashed across the rocks, and you will
die quicker than boredom!"
        But the one heeded them not, and taking a breath did let go, and at
once was tumbled and smashed by the current across the rocks.  Yet, in time,
as the creature refused to cling again, the current lifted him free from the
bottom, and he was bruised and hurt no more.
        And the creatures downstream, to whom he was a stranger, cried, "See
a miracle!  A creature like ourselves, yet he flies!  See the Messiah, come
to save us all!"  And the one carried in the current said, "I am no more
Messiah than you.  The river delight to lift us free, if only we dare let go.
Our true work is this voyage, this adventure.
        But they cried the more, "Saviour!" all the while clinging to the
rocks, making legends of a Saviour.
                -- Richard Bach

        Once there was a marine biologist who loved dolphins. He spent his
time trying to feed and protect his beloved creatures of the sea.  One day,
in a fit of inventive genius, he came up with a serum that would make
dolphins live forever!
        Of course he was ecstatic. But he soon realized that in order to mass
produce this serum he would need large amounts of a certain compound that was
only found in nature in the metabolism of a rare South American bird.  Carried
away by his love for dolphins, he resolved that he would go to the zoo and
steal one of these birds.
        Unbeknownst to him, as he was arriving at the zoo an elderly lion was
escaping from its cage.  The zookeepers were alarmed and immediately began
combing the zoo for the escaped animal, unaware that it had simply lain down
on the sidewalk and had gone to sleep.
        Meanwhile, the marine biologist arrived at the zoo and procured his
bird.  He was so excited by the prospect of helping his dolphins that he
stepped absentmindedly stepped over the sleeping lion on his way back to his
car.  Immediately, 1500 policemen converged on him and arrested him for
transporting a myna across a staid lion for immortal porpoises.

        Once upon a time there was a beautiful young girl taking a stroll
through the woods.  All at once she saw an extremely ugly bull frog seated
on a log and to her amazement the frog spoke to her.  "Maiden," croaked the
frog, "would you do me a favor?  This will be hard for you to believe, but
I was once a handsome, charming prince and then a mean, ugly old witch cast
a spell over me and turned me into a frog."
        "Oh, what a pity!", exclaimed the girl.  "I'll do anything I can to
help you break such a spell."
        "Well," replied the frog, "the only way that this spell can be
taken away is for some lovely young woman to take me home and let me spend
the night under her pillow."
        The young girl took the ugly frog home and placed him beneath her
pillow that night when she retired.  When she awoke the next morning, sure
enough, there beside her in bed was a very young, handsome man, clearly of
royal blood.  And so they lived happily ever after, except that to this day
her father and mother still don't believe her story.

        Once upon a time, there was a fisherman who lived by a great river.
One day, after a hard day's fishing, he hooked what seemed to him to be the
biggest, strongest fish he had ever caught.  He fought with it for hours,
until, finally, he managed to bring it to the surface.  Looking of the edge
of the boat, he saw the head of this huge fish breaking the surface.  Smiling
with pride, he reached over the edge to pull the fish up.  Unfortunately, he
accidently caught his watch on the edge, and, before he knew it, there was a
snap, and his watch tumbled into the water next to the fish with a loud
"sploosh!"  Distracted by this shiny object, the fish made a sudden lunge,
simultaneously snapping the line, and swallowing the watch.  Sadly, the
fisherman stared into the water, and then began the slow trip back home.
        Many years later, the fisherman, now an old man, was working in a
boring assembly-line job in a large city.  He worked in a fish-processing
plant.  It was his job, as each fish passed under his hands, to chop off their
heads, readying them for the next phase in processing.  This monotonous task
went on for years, the dull *thud* of the cleaver chopping of each head being
his entire world, day after day, week after weary week.  Well, one day, as he
was chopping fish, he happened to notice that the fish coming towards him on
the line looked very familiar.  Yes, yes, it looked... could it be the fish
he had lost on that day so many years ago?  He trembled with anticipation as
his cleaver came down.  IT STRUCK SOMETHING HARD!  IT WAS HIS THUMB!

        Once upon a time, there were five blind men who had the opportunity
to experience an elephant for the first time.  One approached the elephant,
and, upon encountering one of its sturdy legs, stated, "Ah, an elephant is
like a tree."  The second, after exploring the trunk, said, "No, an elephant
is like a strong hose."  The third, grasping the tail, said "Fool!  An elephant
is like a rope!"  The fourth, holding an ear, stated, "No, more like a fan."
And the fifth, leaning against the animal's side, said, "An elephant is like
a wall."  The five then began to argue loudly about who had the more accurate
perception of the elephant.
        The elephant, tiring of all this abuse, suddenly reared up and
attacked the men.  He continued to trample them until they were nothing but
bloody lumps of flesh.  Then, strolling away, the elephant remarked, "It just
goes to show that you can't depend on first impressions.  When I first saw
them I didn't think they they'd be any fun at all."

        Once upon a time there were three brothers who were knights
in a certain kingdom.  And, there was a Princess in a neighboring kingdom
who was of marriageable age.  Well, one day, in full armour, their horses,
and their page, the three brothers set off to see if one of them could
win her hand.  The road was long and there were many obstacles along the
way, robbers to be overcome, hard terrain to cross.  As they coped with
each obstacle they became more and more disgusted with their page.  He was
not only inept, he was a coward, he could not handle the horses, he was,
in short, a complete flop.  When they arrived at the court of the kingdom,
they found that they were expected to present the Princess with some
treasure.  The two older brothers were discouraged, since they had not
thought of this and were unprepared.  The youngest, however, had the
answer:  Promise her anything, but give her our page.