Bees And Gasoline

When I was young and lived in rural Virginia, USA, we would rid the outside of our house of paper wasp nests using gasoline, tossed at the nest. A pretty dodgy activity that.

Ever seen a paper wasp falling to the ground, wings burned by the gasoline? Ever seen one that you missed, watching his brother, cousin, whatever, falling to the ground? Very pissed off, to say the least. The ones that you missed could still fly.

These folks are somewhat more adventurous. Obviously this was the weekend, when the EPA was not on duty patrolling the neighbourhood.

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Be Courteous At The Cinema

I went to the movie the other night. I sat in an aisle seat as I usually do because it feels a little roomier (my long legs need help). Just as the feature was about to start a blonde from the center of the row got up and started to work her way out.

Excuse me, sorry, oops, excuse me, pardon me, gotta hurry, oops, excuse me.

By the time she got to me I was trying to look around her and I was a little impatient so I said

Couldn't you have done this a little earlier?

"No!!" she said in a loud whisper,

The TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONE PLEASE message just flashed up on the screen, and mine is in the car.

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1984, Voluntarily

In George Orwell's novel 1984, written in 1949, long before personal computers or the Internet were even a dream, all citizens were subject to constant surveillance by Big Brother. Presumably, this activity wasn't preferred by the citizens.

Now we see that we may be becoming our own Big Brother. From worm of oblivion: Nerd surveillance, we see news that MIT students are voluntarily becoming citizens of Orwell's fictional nation of Oceania.

I always wondered if Oceania had huge banks of super-computers doing the monitoring. No way that you could have each citizen being monitored by a citizen - who watches the watchers?

As soon as MySpace gets a piece of this, the high schools will be full of it. Imagine - the ability to hide from your parents or teachers, but let all your buds know where you are.

We have met the enemy, and he is us.

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Change From Within

A Buddhist walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender pours him one saying, "That'll be $3.50."

The Buddhist hands him a ten and waits. And waits.

After a while, the Buddhist asks: "Hey, where's my change?"

The bartender replies: "Change must come from within."

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If YOU Had The Choice?

While walking down the street one day, Hillary Clinton is tragically hit by a truck and killed. Her soul arrives in Heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in," says Hillary.

"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"There's no need! I want to be in Heaven," says Hillary.

"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."

And with that, St. Peter escorts her to the elevator, the doors open, and she rides the elevator down, down, down. When the doors open again, the senator finds herself in the middle of a beautiful green golf course. In the distance is a club, and standing in front of it are all her friends and other politicians who had worked with her.

Everyone is very happy and in formal dress. They run to greet her, and they reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.

Also present is the Devil, who is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that, before the senator realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives her a big hug and waves while the elevator rises. The elevator goes up, up, up, and the door reopens in Heaven where St. Peter is waiting for her.

So 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before she realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by, and St. Peter returns.

"Well, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now, you must choose where you want to spend eternity."

She reflects for a minute and then answers, "Well, I would never would have thought it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better satisfied in Hell."

So Saint Peter escorts her to the elevator, and down, down, down she goes into Hell. Now, the doors of the elevator open, and she is in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. She sees all her friends dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. And it's hot, hot, hot, and the odor is just horrible.

Sweltering hot. Hot and miserable. The Devil comes over to her and smoothly lays his arm around her shoulder.

"I don't understand," stammers the senator. "The day before I was here, and there was a golf course and club, and we ate lobster and caviar and danced and had a great time. Now all there is is a wasteland full of garbage, and my friends look miserable."

The Devil looks at her, smiles, and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted for us."

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Of Cell Phones And Convenience, And Missed Sightseeing Opportunities

When I was in grade school, in the middle of the previous century, I lived in rural Virginia, USA. Virginia is in the middle of the east coast, and having been part of (what we Americans call it) the "Revolutionary War", and a subsequent internal war (the American "Civil War"), is steeped in historical significance.

As an aside, I will note that, to folks of European or Asian background, the History of the USA is not so significant at all. But when you live in rural Virginia, with very few recreational opportunities, sightseeing at "historical" locations was a big thing, in those days.

So one summer, my parents got the idea that we would go visit Gettysburg Pennsylvania, which was a major Civil War attraction north of us, and a few long hours of driving too. And we would meet up with some cousins of ours, who lived about halfway between us and Gettysburg. And the agreement was that we would drive to Gettysburg in the early morning, and they would start from their house later, and we would meet in a central location in Gettysburg, at a certain time.

So we got up very early in the morning, and drove the long (3 or 4 hours I would guess) trip to Gettysburg, and had a couple hours of sightseeing by ourselves, but saved the fun stuff for when our cousins were able to enjoy it with us.

And at the appointed time, we went to the meeting place, and waited. And no cousins.

So not to make this story drag on, we found later that the appointed meeting place actually existed in two places in the town. We, of course, were at one clone, and our cousins at the other. And both families learned of the mistake from Gettysburg natives, and both families spent some time driving from one meeting place to the other. And neither family did any fun sightseeing that day.

Now those of you reading this tale, and maybe being of the age that I was at that time (or even having kids of that age) will say to me

So why didn't one of you call the other?

and the answer would be

Actually, both families spent some time using the phone.

However, in our cases, we were each using public phones, and calling the others home phone. Of course, neither family was at home, they were simply elsewhere in Gettysburg, in another phone booth.

And that's the bottom line. The closest thing to a cell phone, in those days was a fictional shoe phone, carried by a fictional spy (played by a now dead American actor), Max Smart.

In most of the houses where we lived, there was a phone in each house. Stuck to the wall, or sitting on a table attached to a wire. And it was that phone that was ringing, as we were driving around Gettysburg looking for our cousins (and no, we didn't have answering machines either).

Cell phone? If you had told one of us kids then that we would grow up and have a phone that we could carry everywhere in our pocket, and converse with anybody else carrying another phone, while we shopped or ate, we would have stared at you, and wondered

What is this guy smoking?

Of course, the other guy has to be carrying his phone too. And that is the next half of this tale.

My mum, having grown up in an era before mine, didn't even use a phone when she was our age. In her time, if any nearby neighbour had a phone, that was enough.

So my mum has a phone at home (actually several, some of which I installed when I lived there, in various places in the house). And she has a cell phone, on the charger in her bedroom. But when she goes out to visit friends, there the cell phone stays, on the charger in her bedroom.

And that's the problem. A cell phone is all about convenience. It's not convenient, when you leave it sitting in your bedroom.

And now we note that, one day, a museum might be the only place where you would see a public (pay) phone.

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This Could Only Be A Mac

This is so cute. Not.


Kitten On The Keys

Give your kitty a ball of string, or a catnip mouse, to play with. Not a computer mouse / what the mouse attaches to.

>> More on Cats and Apple Computers. Part of the ongoing debate: Should humans have to pass an intelligence test, before being allowed to own a computer?

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Common Ground

A U.S. Marine squad was marching north of Faluijiah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist, badly injured and unconscious.

On the opposite side of the road was an American Marine in a similar but less serious state.

The Marine was conscious and alert and as first aid was given to both men, the squad leader asked the injured Marine what had happened.

The Marine reported, "I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming south was a heavily armed insurgent. We saw each other and both took cover in the ditches along the road.

"I yelled to him that Saddam Hussein is a miserable, lowlife scum bag, and he yelled back that Ted Kennedy is a good-for-nothing, fat,left wing liberal drunk."

"So I said that Osama Bin Ladin dresses and acts like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian! He retaliated by yelling, "Oh yeah? Well, so does Hillary Clinton!"

"And, there we were, in the middle of the road, shaking hands, when a truck hit us."

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My PC Is For Porno

Here's a guy who believes in telling the truth.


» My PC is for Porno

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A Female Genie

While trying to escape through Pakistan, Osama Bin Laden found a bottle on the sand picked it up. Suddenly, a female genie rose from the bottle and with a smile said, "Master, may I grant you one wish?"

Osama responded, "You ignorant, unworthy daughter-of-a-dog! Don't you know who I am? I don't need any common woman giving me anything." The shocked genie said, "Please, I must grant you a wish or I will be returned to that bottle forever." Osama thought a moment, then grumbled about the; impertinence of the woman and said, "Very well, I want to awaken with three American women in my bed in the morning. So just do it and be off with you. " The annoyed genie said, "So be it!" and disappeared.

The next morning Bin Laden woke up in bed with Lorena Bobbitt, Tonya Harding, and Hillary Clinton at his side. His penis was gone, his knees were broken, and he had no health insurance. God is good.

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The Problem #2

You gotta click on the picture, if you want to see the message.

Here is another description of the problem.

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The Problem

This is one view of the problem. Here is another view of the problem.

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If Airlines Sold Paint ...

Customer: Hi. How much is your paint?
Clerk: Well, sir, that all depends on quite a lot of things.
Customer: Can you give me a guess? Is there an average price?
Clerk: Our lowest price is $12 a gallon, and we have 60 different prices up to $200 a gallon.

Customer: What's the difference in the paint?
Clerk: Oh, there isn't any difference; it's all the same paint.
Customer: Well, then I'd like some of that $12 paint.
Clerk: When do you intend to use the paint?
Customer: I want to paint tomorrow. It's my day off.
Clerk: Sir, the paint for tomorrow is the $200 paint.
Customer: When would I have to paint to get the $12 paint?
Clerk: You would have to start very late at night in about 3 weeks. But you will have to agree to start painting before Friday of that week and continue painting until at least Sunday.

Customer: You've got to be *&%^#@* kidding!
Clerk: I'll check and see if we have any paint available.
Customer: You have shelves FULL of paint! I can see it!
Clerk: But it doesn't mean that we have paint available. We sell only a certain number of gallons on any given weekend. Oh, and by the way, the price per gallon just went to $16. We don't have any more $12 paint.

Customer: The price went up as we were talking?
Clerk: Yes, sir. We change the prices and rules hundreds of times a day, and since you haven't actually walked out of the store with your paint yet, we just decided to change. I suggest you purchase your paint as soon as possible. How many gallons do you want?

Customer: Well, maybe five gallons. Make that six, so I'll have enough.
Clerk: Oh no, sir, you can't do that. If you buy paint and don't use it, there are penalties and possible confiscation of the paint you already have.

Customer: WHAT?
Clerk: We can sell enough paint to do your kitchen, bathroom, hall and north bedroom, but if you stop painting before you do the bedroom, you will lose your remaining gallons of paint.

Customer: What does it matter whether I use all the paint? I already paid you for it!

Clerk: We make plans based upon the idea that all our paint is used, every drop. If you don't, it causes us all sorts of problems.

Customer: This is crazy!! I suppose something terrible happens if I don't keep painting until after Saturday night!

Clerk: Oh yes! Every gallon you bought automatically becomes the $200 paint.

Customer: But what are all these, "Paint on sale from $10 a gallon" signs?
Clerk: Well that's for our budget paint. It only comes in half-gallons. One $5 half-gallon will do half a room. The second half-gallon to complete the room is $20. None of the cans have labels, some are empty and there are no refunds, even on the empty cans.

Customer: To hell with this! I'll buy what I need somewhere else!
Clerk: I don't think so, sir. You may be able to buy paint for your bathroom and bedrooms, and your kitchen and dining room from someone else, but you won't be able to paint your connecting hall and stairway from anyone but us. And I should point out, sir, that if you paint in only one direction, it will be $300 a gallon.

Customer: I thought your most expensive paint was $200!
Clerk: That's if you paint around the room to the point at which you started. A hallway is different.

Customer: And if I buy $200 paint for the hall, but only paint in one direction, you'll confiscate the remaining paint.

Clerk: No, we'll charge you an extra use fee plus the difference on your next gallon of paint. But I believe you're getting it now, sir.

Customer: You're insane!
Clerk: Thanks for painting with United.

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Automotive Driving And Surrealistic Experiences

Sometimes, driving your car leads to surrealistic, almost deja vu, experiences.

Has this ever happened to you?

• You're driving along, anticipating turning at the next intersection. Is it time to activate the turn signal? Shall I activate the turn signal here?

  Nah, don't bother. Nobody ever signals when turning here.

• You're driving along, anticipating turning at the next intersection. Is it time to activate the turn signal? Shall I activate the turn signal here?

  Yes, this would be a good time to signal. I saw somebody else signal, at this very spot, last week.

• You're driving along, anticipating turning at the next intersection. Is it time to activate the turn signal? Shall I activate the turn signal here?

  Yes, this would be a good time to signal. I saw a cop sitting nearby last week.

• Here's a strange one. You're sitting at an intersection, waiting for your turn to procede. You're using your turn signal. You look at the car in front of you (you glance in the mirror at the car behind you, whatever...). Suddenly you see it.

  The other guy is signaling, too.

• Here's a rare one. Maybe you've seen this. Heavy traffic. Someone uses his turn signal, only planning a lane change where some other car is present. The driver of the other car warns the first driver off, using his horn.

  A traffic collision is prevented.

• Maybe you've followed a cop thru traffic, and observed that he doesn't use his signal where he should.

  What's up with that?

If you know why I'm writing this, then I may be writing for you. If you haven't a clue, then I am definitely writing this for you.

Get a clue.

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Duct Tape

Duct tape, the universal holder, is 1/3 of the pluggers tool kit.

1. Duct Tape.
2. Vice Grips.
3. WD-40.

If it moves and shouldn't, use #1. If it won't move and should, use #3. In either case, use #2 as necessary.

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Troubleshooting Techniques

A computer engineer, a systems analyst, and a programmer were driving down a mountain when the brakes on the car gave out. They rolled down the mountain out of control, gaining speed, but finally managed to grind to a halt, more by luck than anything else, just inches from a thousand foot drop to jagged rocks.

They all got out of the car.

The computer engineer said, "I think I can fix it."

The systems analyst said, "No, no, I think we should take it into town, and have a specialist look at it."

The programmer said, "OK, but first I think we should get back in and see if it does it again."

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Never Argue With A Woman...

... Who Reads

One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, anchors, and reads her book.

Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"

"Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")

"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.

"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading."

"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."

"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman.

"But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.

"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."

"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.

MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.

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Join The Democratic Party

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then-- just to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker.
I began to think alone -- "to relax," I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time.

That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's. I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't help myself.

I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir, Confucius and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"

One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job."

This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confess, "I've been thinking..."

"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"

"But Honey, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college professors and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently.

She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama.

"I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors. They didn't open. The library was closed.

To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye, "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked.

You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers Anonymous poster.

This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting.

I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed...easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me.

Today I took the final step............ I joined the Democratic Party.

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CAPTCHAs conquered?

Will Knight, online technology editor
New Scientist: CAPTCHAs conquered?



Have spammers found a way to beat CAPTCHA tests - the little character puzzles that are widely used to confuse software bots?


Not exactly. But this is the daunting prospect raised in several recent news stories. These articles describe a malicious program called Trojan.Spammer.HotLan.A, which creates free email accounts using services like Hotmail and Yahoo. Some experts say the Trojan can create about 500 bogus Hotmail accounts every hour.

"They've found a way to bypass the CAPTCHA system by using optical character recognition," warns Vitor Souza, a manager at BitDefender. "The software reads the images and transforms it into text. Once it bypasses the CAPTCHA system, it enables them to automatically create the e-mail accounts."

This struck me as a bit odd. Recognising the kinds of characters used in CAPTCHAs remains a significant challenge in computer vision. So, unless spammers are carrying out fairly state-of-the-art research, it's hard to see how they could have defeated them.

Suitably puzzled, I called up the head of BitDefenders anti-virus labs in Romania, Viorel Canja, who explained all. It turns out the Trojan creates free email accounts by copying each CAPTCHA and sending it off to another computer for processing. This process may be automatic, or may be done done manually. At the moment, it isn't clear.

Luis Von Ahn of Carnegie Mellon University - one of the people who invented the CAPTCHA test - thinks the process can only be manual. He notes out that creating 500 new accounts per hour is hardly impressive. "If you think about it, a single human can get about 400 per hour if they just sit there typing," he told me. "Before CAPTCHA, bots could get more than two million accounts per day."

This seems to suggest that, should spammers ever work out how to beat CAPTCHA tests automatically, we'll really know about.

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Like Wine From Water

In the Christian Bible, the New Testament to be exact, we read of the miracle of Jesus turning water into wine.

Now scientists (well sort of) discovered that it is (may be) possible to turn cheap booze (vodka in this experiment) into good spirits. Read about their scientifically conducted experiment in Oh My God It Burns!.

It almost makes me want to go buy another Brita pitcher (I have one, but it's essential to my drinking water).

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