Freebsd Fortunes 2

        The defense attorney was hammering away at the plaintiff:
"You claim," he jeered, "that my client came at you with a broken bottle
in his hand.  But is it not true, that you had something in YOUR hand?"
        "Yes," the man admitted, "his wife. Very charming, of course,
but not much good in a fight."

        The devout Jew was beside himself because his son had been dating
a shiksa, so he went to visit his rabbi.  The rabbi listened solemnly to
his problem, took his hand, and said, "Pray to God."
        So the Jew went to the synagogue, bowed his head, and prayed, "God,
please help me.  My son, my favorite son, he's going to marry a shiksa, he
sees nothing but goyim..."
        "Your son," boomed down this voice from the heavens, "you think
you got problems.  What about my son?"

        The doctor had just finished giving the young man a thorough
physical examination.  "The best thing for you to do," the M.D. said,
"is give up drinking, give up smoking, get to bed early and stay away
from women."
        "Doc, I don't deserve the best," pleaded his patient.  "What's
second best?"

        The FIELD GUIDE to NORTH AMERICAN MALES

SPECIES:        Cranial Males
SUBSPECIES:     The Hacker (homo computatis)
Courtship & Mating:
        Due to extreme deprivation, HOMO COMPUTATIS maintains a near perpetual
        state of sexual readiness.  Courtship behavior alternates between
        awkward shyness and abrupt advances.  When he finally mates, he
        chooses a female engineer with an unblinking stare, a tight mouth, and
        a complete collection of Campbell's soup-can recipes.
Track:
        Trash cans full of pale green and white perforated paper and old
        copies of the Allen-Bradley catalog.
Comments:
        Extremely fond of bad puns and jokes that need long explanations.

        The FIELD GUIDE to NORTH AMERICAN MALES

SPECIES:        Cranial Males
SUBSPECIES:     The Hacker (homo computatis)
Description:
        Gangly and frail, the hacker has a high forehead and thinning hair.
        Head disproportionately large and crooked forward, complexion wan and
        sightly gray from CRT illumination.  He has heavy black-rimmed glasses
        and a look of intense concentration, which may be due to a software
        problem or to a pork-and-bean breakfast.
Feathering:
        HOMO COMPUTATIS saw a Brylcreem ad fifteen years ago and believed it.
        Consequently, crest is greased down, except for the cowlick.
Song:
        A rather plaintive "Is it up?"

        The FIELD GUIDE to NORTH AMERICAN MALES

SPECIES:        Cranial Males
SUBSPECIES:     The Hacker (homo computatis)
Plumage:
        All clothes have a slightly crumpled look as though they came off the
        top of the laundry basket.  Style varies with status.  Hacker managers
        wear gray polyester slacks, pink or pastel shirts with wide collars,
        and paisley ties; staff wears cinched-up baggy corduroy pants, white
        or blue shirts with button-down collars, and penholder in pocket.
        Both managers and staff wear running shoes to work, and a black
        plastic digital watch with calculator.

        The foreman of a lumber camp put a new workman on the circular saw.
As he turned away, he heard the man say, "Ouch!".
        "What happened?"
        "Dunno," replied the man.  "I just stuck out my hand like this, and
-- well, I'll be damned.  There goes another one!"

        The General disliked trying to explain the highly technical
innerworkings of the U.S. Air Force.
        "$7,662 for a ten cup coffee maker, General?" the Senator asked.
        In his head he ran through his standard explanations.  "It's not so,"
he thought.  "It's a deterrent."  Soon he came up with, "It's computerized,
Senator.  Tiny computer chips make coffee that's smooth and full-bodied.  Try
a cup."
        The Senator did.  "Pfffttt!  Tastes like jet fuel!"
        "It's not so," the General thought.  "It's a deterrent."
        Then he remembered something.  "We bought a lot of untested computer
chips," the General answered.  "They got into everything.  Just a little
mix-up.  Nothing serious."
        Then he remembered something else.  It was at the site of the
mysterious B-1 crash.  A strange smell in the fuel lines.  It smelled like
coffee.  Smooth and full bodied...
                -- Another Episode of General's Hospital

        The geographical center of Boston is in Roxbury.  Due north of
the center we find the South End.  This is not to be confused with South
Boston which lies directly east from the South End.  North of the South
End is East Boston and southwest of East Boston is the North End.

        The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on
the subject of towels.
        Most importantly, a towel has immense psychological value.  For
some reason, if a non-hitchhiker discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel
with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a
toothbrush, washcloth, flask, gnat spray, space suit, etc., etc.  Furthermore,
the non-hitchhiker will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or
a dozen other items that he may have "lost".  After all, any man who can
hitch the length and breadth of the Galaxy, struggle against terrible odds,
win through and still know where his towel is, is clearly a man to be
reckoned with.