Freebsd Fortunes 2

        The big problem with pornography is defining it.  You can't just
say it's pictures of people naked.  For example, you have these
primitive African tribes that exist by chasing the wildebeest on foot,
and they have to go around largely naked, because, as the old tribal
saying goes: "N'wam k'honi soit qui mali," which means, "If you think
you can catch a wildebeest in this climate and wear clothes at the same
time, then I have some beach front property in the desert region of
Northern Mali that you may be interested in."
        So it's not considered pornographic when National Geographic
publishes color photographs of these people hunting the wildebeest
naked, or pounding one rock onto another rock for some primitive reason
naked, or whatever.  But if National Geographic were to publish an
article entitled "The Girls of the California Junior College System
Hunt the Wildebeest Naked," some people would call it pornography.  But
others would not.  And still others, such as the Spectacularly Rev.
Jerry Falwell, would get upset about seeing the wildebeest naked.
                -- Dave Barry, "Pornography"

        The birds are singing, the flowers are budding, and it is time
for Miss Manners to tell young lovers to stop necking in public.
        It's not that Miss Manners is immune to romance.  Miss Manners
has been known to squeeze a gentleman's arm while being helped over a
curb, and, in her wild youth, even to press a dainty slipper against a
foot or two under the dinner table.  Miss Manners also believes that the
sight of people strolling hand in hand or arm in arm or arm in hand
dresses up a city considerably more than the more familiar sight of
people shaking umbrellas at one another.  What Miss Manners objects to
is the kind of activity that frightens the horses on the street...

        The boss returned from lunch in a good mood and called the whole staff
in to listen to a couple of jokes he had picked up.  Everybody but one girl
laughed uproariously.  "What's the matter?" grumbled the boss. "Haven't you
got a sense of humor?"
        "I don't have to laugh," she said.  "I'm leaving Friday anyway.

        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!"