Freebsd Fortunes 5

Often things ARE as bad as they seem!

Ogden's Law:
        The sooner you fall behind, the more time you have to catch up.

Oh, Aunty Em, it's so good to be home!

Oh, by the way, which one's Pink?
                -- Pink Floyd

Oh don't the days seem lank and long
When all goes right and none goes wrong,
And isn't your life extremely flat
With nothing whatever to grumble at!

Oh Father, my Father, Oh what must I do?
They're burning our streets and beating me blue.
"Listen my son, I'll tell you the truth:
Get a close haircut and spit-shine your shoes."

Oh Mother, my Mother, my confusions remove,
I long to embrace her whose hair is so smooth.
"Now listen my son, although you're confused,
Cut your hair close and shine all your shoes."

Oh Teacher, my Teacher, your life with me share.
What books ought I read?  What thoughts do I dare?
"Oh Student, my Student, of dissent you beware.
Shine those dull shoes and cut short your hair."

Oh Preacher, my Preacher, does God really care?
Are all races equal?  Are laws just and fair?
"Boy -- here's the answer, no need to despair:
Shine those new shoes and cut short that hair."

Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the goblerwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
        see if I don't.
                -- Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz

Oh, give me a home,
Where the buffalo roam,
And I'll show you a house with a really messy kitchen.

Oh, give me a locus where the gravitons focus
        Where the three-body problem is solved,
        Where the microwaves play down at three degrees K,
        And the cold virus never evolved.                       (chorus)
We eat algea pie, our vacuum is high,
        Our ball bearings are perfectly round.
        Our horizon is curved, our warheads are MIRVed,
        And a kilogram weighs half a pound.                     (chorus)
If we run out of space for our burgeoning race
        No more Lebensraum left for the Mensch
        When we're ready to start, we can take Mars apart,
        If we just find a big enough wrench.                    (chorus)
I'm sick of this place, it's just McDonald's in space,
        And living up here is a bore.
        Tell the shiggies, "Don't cry," they can kiss me goodbye
        'Cause I'm moving next week to L4!                      (chorus)

CHORUS: Home, home on LaGrange,
        Where the space debris always collects,
        We possess, so it seems, two of Man's greatest dreams:
        Solar power and zero-gee sex.
                -- to Home on the Range

Oh give me your pity!
I'm on a committee,                     We attend and amend
Which means that from morning           And contend and defend
        to night,                       Without a conclusion in sight.

We confer and concur,
We defer and demur,                     We revise the agenda
And reiterate all of our thoughts.      With frequent addenda
                                        And consider a load of reports.

We compose and propose,
We suppose and oppose,                  But though various notions
And the points of procedure are fun;    Are brought up as motions,
                                        There's terribly little gets done.

We resolve and absolve;
But we never dissolve,
Since it's out of the question for us
To bring our committee
To end like this ditty,
Which stops with a period, thus.
                -- Leslie Lipson, "The Committee"