Freebsd Fortunes 2

        Jacek, a Polish schoolboy, is told by his teacher that he has
been chosen to carry the Polish flag in the May Day parade.
        "Why me?"  whines the boy.  "Three years ago I carried the flag
when Brezhnev was the Secretary; then I carried the flag when it was
Andropov's turn, and again when Chernenko was in the Kremlin.  Why is
it always me, teacher?"
        "Because, Jacek, you have such golden hands," the teacher
explains.

                -- being told in Poland, 1987

        Joan, the rather well-proportioned secretary, spent almost all of
her vacation sunbathing on the roof of her hotel.  She wore a bathing suit
the first day, but on the second, she decided that no one could see her
way up there, and she slipped out of it for an overall tan.  She'd hardly
begun when she heard someone running up the stairs; she was lying on her
stomach, so she just pulled a towel over her rear.
        "Excuse me, miss," said the flustered little assistant manager of
the hotel, out of breath from running up the stairs.  "The Hilton doesn't
mind your sunbathing on the roof, but we would very much appreciate your
wearing a bathing suit as you did yesterday."
        "What difference does it make," Joan asked rather calmly.  "No one
can see me up here, and besides, I'm covered with a towel."
        "Not exactly," said the embarrassed little man.  "You're lying on
the dining room skylight."

        Lassie looked brilliant, in part because the farm family she
lived with was made up of idiots.  Remember?  One of them was always
getting pinned under the tractor, and Lassie was always rushing back to
the farmhouse to alert the other ones.  She'd whimper and tug at their
sleeves, and they'd always waste precious minutes saying things: "Do
you think something's wrong?  Do you think she wants us to follow her?
What is it, girl?", etc., as if this had never happened before, instead
of every week.  What with all the time these people spent pinned under
the tractor, I don't see how they managed to grow any crops whatsoever.
They probably got by on federal crop supports, which Lassie filed the
applications for.
                -- Dave Barry

        Leslie West heads for the sticks, to Providence, Rhode Island and
tries to hide behind a beard.  No good.  There are still too many people
and too many stares, always taunting, always smirking.  He moves to the
outskirts of town. He finds a place to live -- huge mansion, dirt cheap,
caretaker included.  He plugs in his guitar and plays as loud as he wants,
day and night, and there's no one to laugh or boo or even look bored.
        Nobody's cut the grass in months.  What's happened to that caretaker?
What neighborhood people there are start to talk, and what kids there are
start to get curious.  A 13 year-old blond with an angelic face misses supper.
Before the summer's end, four more teenagers have disappeared.  The senior
class president, Barnard-bound come autumn, tells Mom she's going out to a
movie one night and stays out.  The town's up in arms, but just before the
police take action, the kids turn up.  They've found a purpose.  They go
home for their stuff and tell the folks not to worry but they'll be going
now.  They're in a band.
                -- Ira Kaplan

        Listen, Tyrone, you don't know how dangerous that stuff is.
Suppose someday you just plug in and go away and never come back?  Eh?
        Ho, ho!  Don't I wish!  What do you think every electrofreak
dreams about?  You're such an old fuddyduddy!  A-and who sez it's a
dream, huh?  M-maybe it exists.  Maybe there is a Machine to take us
away, take us completely, suck us out through the electrodes out of
the skull 'n' into the Machine and live there forever with all the
other souls it's got stored there.  It could decide who it would suck
out, a-and when.  Dope never gave you immortality.  You hadda come
back, every time, into a dying hunk of smelly meat!  But We can live
forever, in a clean, honest, purified, Electroworld.
                -- Thomas Pynchon, "Gravity's Rainbow"

        Long ago, in a finite state far away, there lived a JOVIAL
character named Jack.  Jack and his relations were poor.  Often their
hash table was bare.  One day Jack's parent said to him, "Our matrices
are sparse.  You must go to the market to exchange our RAM for some
BASICs."  She compiled a linked list of items to retrieve and passed it
to him.
        So Jack set out.  But as he was walking along a Hamilton path,
he met the traveling salesman.
        "Whither dost thy flow chart take thou?" prompted the salesman
in high-level language.
        "I'm going to the market to exchange this RAM for some chips
and Apples," commented Jack.
        "I have a much better algorithm.  You needn't join a queue
there; I will swap your RAM for these magic kernels now."
        Jack made the trade, then backtracked to his house.  But when
he told his busy-waiting parent of the deal, she became so angry she
started thrashing.
        "Don't you even have any artificial intelligence?  All these
kernels together hardly make up one byte," and she popped them out the
window...
                -- Mark Isaak, "Jack and the Beanstack"

        Looking for a cool one after a long, dusty ride, the drifter strode
into the saloon.  As he made his way through the crowd to the bar, a man
galloped through town screaming, "Big Mike's comin'!  Run fer yer lives!"
        Suddenly, the saloon doors burst open.  An enormous man, standing over
eight feet tall and weighing an easy 400 pounds, rode in on a bull, using a
rattlesnake for a whip.  Grabbing the drifter by the arm and throwing him over
the bar, the giant thundered, "Gimme a drink!"
        The terrified man handed over a bottle of whiskey, which the man
guzzled in one gulp and then smashed on the bar.  He then stood aghast as
the man stuffed the broken bottle in his mouth, munched broken glass and
smacked his lips with relish.
        "Can I, ah, uh, get you another, sir?" the drifter stammered.
        "Naw, I gotta git outa here, boy," the man grunted.  "Big Mike's
a-comin'."

        Max told his friend that he'd just as soon not go hiking in the hills.
Said he, "I'm an anti-climb Max."

        Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do,
and how to be, I learned in kindergarten.  Wisdom was not at the top of the
graduate school mountain but there in the sandbox at nursery school.
        These are the things I learned:  Share everything.  Play fair.  Don't
hit people.  Put things back where you found them.  Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.   Say you're sorry when you hurt someone.
Wash your hands before you eat.  Flush.  Warm cookies and cold milk are good
for you.  Live a balanced life.  Learn some and think some and draw and paint
and sing and dance and play and work some every day.
        Take a nap every afternoon.  When you go out into the world, watch for
traffic, hold hands, and stick together.  Be aware of wonder.  Remember the
little seed in the plastic cup.   The roots go down and the plant goes up and
nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.  Goldfish and
hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the plastic cup -- they all
die.  So do we.
        And then remember the book about Dick and Jane and the first word you
learned, the biggest word of all: LOOK.  Everything you need to know is in
there somewhere.  The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation.  Ecology and
politics and sane living.
        Think of what a better world it would be if we all -- the whole world
-- had cookies and milk about 3 o'clock every afternoon and then lay down with
our blankets for a nap.  Or if we had a basic policy in our nation and other
nations to always put things back where we found them and cleaned up our own
messes.  And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into
the world it is best to hold hands and stick together.
                -- Robert Fulghum, "All I ever really needed to know I learned
                   in kindergarten"

        Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to
do, and how to be, I learned in kindergarten.  Wisdom  was not at the top
of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sandbox at nursery school.
        These are the things I learned:  Share everything.  Play fair.
Don't hit people.  Put things back where you found them.  Clean up your
own mess.  Don't take things that aren't yours.  Say you're sorry when you
hurt someone.  Wash your hands before you eat.  Flush.  Warm cookies and
cold milk are good for you.  Live a balanced life.  Learn some and think
some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day
some.
        Take a nap every afternoon.  When you go out into the world, watch
for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.  Be aware of wonder.  Remember
the little seed in the plastic cup.  The roots go down and the plant goes
up and nobody really knows why, but we are all like that.
[...]
        Think of what a better world it would be if we all -- the whole
world -- had cookies and milk about 3 o'clock every afternoon and then lay
down with our blankets for a nap.   Or if we had a basic policy in our nation
and other nations to always put things back where we found them and cleaned
up our own messes.  And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when
you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.
                -- Robert Flughum