More "Medicine"

[Rybka]

Especially for Senna Jawa!

Hiawatha Designs an Experiment:

Hiawatha, mighty hunter,
He could shoot ten arrows upward,
Shoot them with such strength and swiftness
That the last had left the bow-string
Ere the first to earth descended.

This was commonly regarded
As a feat of skill and cunning.
Several sarcastic spirits
Pointed out to him, however,
That it might be much more useful
If he sometimes hit the target.
"Why not shoot a little straighter
And employ a smaller sample?"

Hiawatha, who at college
Majored in applied statistics,
Consequently felt entitled
To instruct his fellow man
In any subject whatsoever,
Waxed exceedingly indignant,
Talked about the law of errors,
Talked about truncated normals,
Talked of loss of information,
Talked about his lack of bias,
Pointed out that (in the long run)
Independent observations,
Even though they missed the target,
Had an average point of impact
Very near the spot he aimed at,
With the possible exception
Of a set of measure zero.

"This," they said, "was rather doubtful;
Anyway it didn't matter.
What resulted in the long run:
Either he must hit the target
Much more often than at present,
Or himself would have to pay for
All the arrows he had wasted."

Hiawatha, in a temper,
Quoted parts of R. A. Fisher,
Quoted Yates and quoted Finney,
Quoted reams of Oscar Kempthorne,
Quoted Anderson and Bancroft
(practically in extenso)
Trying to impress upon them
That what actually mattered
Was to estimate the error.

Several of them had admitted:
"Such a thing might have its uses;
Still," they said, "he would do better
If he shot a little straighter."
Hiawatha, to convince them,
Organized a shooting contest.
Laid out in the proper manner
Of designs experimental
Recommended in the textbooks,
Mainly used for tasting tea
(but sometimes used in other cases)
Used factorial arrangements
And the theory of Galois,
Got a nicely balanced layout
And successfully confounded
Second order interactions.

All the other tribal marksmen,
Ignorant benighted creatures
Of experimental setups,
Used their time of preparation
Putting in a lot of practice
Merely shooting at the target.

Thus it happened in the contest
That their scores were most impressive
With one solitary exception.
This, I hate to have to say it,
Was the score of Hiawatha,
Who as usual shot his arrows,
Shot them with great strength and swiftness,
Managing to be unbiased,
Not however with a salvo
Managing to hit the target.

"There!" they said to Hiawatha,
"That is what we all expected."
Hiawatha, nothing daunted,
Called for pen and called for paper.
By analysis of variance
Finally produced the figures
Showing beyond all peradventure,
Everybody else was biased.
And the variance components
Did not differ from each other's,
Or from Hiawatha's.
(This last point it might be mentioned,
Would have been much more convincing
If he hadn't been compelled to
Estimate his own components
From experimental plots on
Which the values all were missing.)

Still they couldn't understand it,
So they couldn't raise objections.
(Which is what so often happens
With analysis of variance.)
All the same his fellow tribesmen,
Ignorant benighted heathens,
Took away his bow and arrows,
Said that though my Hiawatha
Was a brilliant statistician,
He was useless as a bowman.

As for variance components
Several of the more outspoken
Make primeval observations
Hurtful of the finer feelings
Even of the statistician.

In a corner of the forest
Sits alone my Hiawatha
Permanently cogitating
On the normal law of errors.
Wondering in idle moments
If perhaps increased precision
Might perhaps be sometimes better
Even at the cost of bias,
If one could thereby now and then
Register upon a target.


Regards,                 Rybka

 

[Rybka]

Another one for S.J.

From my good Russian friend!

How light bulbs work - The Lebedev "Dark Sucker" Theory - 1993

Ever since Edison, it has been believed that electric bulbs emit light, but recent information emerging from the research centers of the former Soviet Union. has proven otherwise. The great Professor L.P. Lebedev of the renowned University of Rostov has demonstrated that electric bulbs don’t emit light; they suck dark. Thus, we should call these bulbs "Dark Suckers". The Dark Sucker Theory and the existence of Dark Suckers also prove that "dark" has mass and is heavier than "light".

First, the basis of the Dark Sucker Theory is that electric bulbs suck dark. For example, take the Dark Sucker in the room you are in right now. There is much less dark right next to it than there is elsewhere in the room. The larger the Dark Sucker, the greater is its capacity to suck dark. - Dark Suckers in the parking lot have a much greater capacity to suck dark than the ones in this room.

As with all things, Dark Suckers don't last forever. Once they are full of dark, they can no longer suck. This is proven by the dark spot on a full Dark Sucker. The dark which has been absorbed by the Dark Suckers is then transmitted by pylons along to power plants which actually work like giant vacuum cleaners. There the machinery uses fossil fuel to destroy it.

A candle is a primitive Dark Sucker. An unused candle has a white wick. You can see that after the first use the wick turns black, representing all the dark that has been sucked into it. If you put a pencil next to the wick of an operating candle, it will turn black. This is because it got in the way of the dark flowing into the candle. One of the disadvantages of these primitive Dark Suckers is their limited range.

There are also portable Suckers. In these, the bulbs can't handle all the dark by themselves and must be aided by a Dark Storage Unit. When the Dark Storage Unit is full it must either be emptied or replaced before the portable Dark Sucker can operate again.

Dark has mass. Lebedev reasons thusly: When dark goes into a Dark Sucker, friction from the mass generates heat. Thus, it is not wise to touch an operating Dark Sucker. Candles present a special problem as the mass must travel into a solid wick instead of through clear glass. This generates a great amount of heat and therefore it's not wise to touch an operating candle. This is easily proven for light bulbs too. When you compress a gas it gets hot, right? So the light bulb gets hot because of all the dark being squished into the wires.

Also, dark is heavier than light. As any diver knows, if you were to swim just below the surface of the sea, you would see a lot of light. If you were to slowly swim down deeper and deeper, you would notice it getting darker and darker. When you get really deep, you would be in total darkness. This is because the heavier "dark" sinks to the bottom of the ocean and the lighter "light" floats to the top. Which, of course, is why it is called light in the first place.

Finally, we can demonstrate that dark is faster than light. If you were to stand in an illuminated room in front of a closed, dark closet, and slowly opened the closet door you would see the light slowly enter the closet. But since dark is so fast, you would not be able to see the dark leave the closet.

So next time you see an electric bulb, remember the Lebedev theory. It is not a light emitter, but rather a Dark Sucker.

The following line doesn't quite fit into the theory but almost does:

Ever seen the blue glow in vacuum tubes? That's because of the color of the quarks that make up the electrons. Isn’t that charming?


Regards,                 Rybka

 

[Rybka]

Another one for Senna Jawa

Since S.J. objected to my poem 2 + 2 = 5


                               2 + 2 = 5

                (for exceptionally large values of 2)

I present:

The History of 2 + 2 = 5 by Houston Euler:

"First and above all he was a logician. At least thirty-five years of the half-century or so of his existence had been devoted exclusively to proving that two and two always equal four, except in unusual cases, where they equal three or five, as the case may be." -- Jacques Futrelle., "The Problem of Cell 13"

Most mathematicians are familiar with -- or have at least seen references in the literature to -- the equation 2 + 2 = 4. However, the less well known equation 2 + 2 = 5 also has a rich, complex history behind it. Like any other complex quantity, this history has a real part and an imaginary part; we shall deal exclusively with the latter here. Many cultures, in their early mathematical development, discovered the equation 2 + 2 = 5. For example, consider the Bolb tribe, descended from the Incas of South America. The Bolbs counted by tying knots in ropes. They quickly realized that when a 2-knot rope is put together with another 2-knot rope, a 5-knot rope results. Recent findings indicate that the Pythagorean Brotherhood discovered a proof that 2 + 2 = 5, but the proof never got written up. Contrary to what one might expect, the proof's nonappearance was not caused by a cover-up such as the Pythagoreans attempted with the irrationality of the square root of two. Rather, they simply could not pay for the necessary scribe service. They had lost their grant money due to the protests of an oxen-rights activist who objected to the Brotherhood's method of celebrating the discovery of theorems. Thus it was that only the equation 2 + 2 = 4 was used in Euclid's "Elements," and nothing more was heard of 2 + 2 = 5 for several centuries.

Around A.D. 1200 Leonardo of Pisa (Fibonacci) discovered that a few weeks after putting 2 male rabbits plus 2 female rabbits in the same cage, he ended up with considerably more than 4 rabbits. Fearing that too strong a challenge to the value 4 given in Euclid would meet with opposition, Leonardo conservatively stated, "2 + 2 is more like 5 than 4." Even this cautious rendition of his data was roundly condemned and earned Leonardo the nickname "Blockhead." By the way, his practice of underestimating the number of rabbits persisted; his celebrated model of rabbit populations had each birth consisting of only two babies, a gross underestimate if ever there was one.

Some 400 years later, the thread was picked up once more, this time by the French mathematicians. Descartes announced, "I think 2 + 2 = 5; therefore it does." However, others objected that his argument was somewhat less than totally rigorous. Apparently, Fermat had a more rigorous proof which was to appear as part of a book, but it and other material were cut by the editor so that the book could be printed with wider margins.

Between the fact that no definitive proof of 2 + 2 = 5 was available and the excitement of the development of calculus, by 1700 mathematicians had again lost interest in the equation. In fact, the only known 18th-century reference to 2 + 2 = 5 is due to the philosopher Bishop Berkeley who, upon discovering it in an old manuscript, wryly commented, "Well, now I know where all the departed quantities went to -- the right-hand side of this equation." That witticism so impressed California intellectuals that they named a university town after him.

But in the early to middle 1800's, 2 + 2 began to take on great significance. Riemann developed an arithmetic in which 2 + 2 = 5, paralleling the Euclidean 2 + 2 = 4 arithmetic. Moreover, during this period Gauss produced an arithmetic in which 2 + 2 = 3. Naturally, there ensued decades of great confusion as to the actual value of 2 + 2. Because of changing opinions on this topic, Kempe's proof in 1880 of the 4-color theorem was deemed 11 years later to yield, instead, the 5-color theorem. Dedekind entered the debate with an article entitled "Was ist und was soll 2 + 2?" Frege thought he had settled the question while preparing a condensed version of his "Begriffsschrift." This condensation, entitled "Die Kleine Begriffsschrift (The Short Schrift)," contained what he considered to be a definitive proof of 2 + 2 = 5. But then Frege received a letter from Bertrand Russell, reminding him that in "Grundbeefen der Mathematik" Frege had proved that 2 + 2 = 4. This contradiction so discouraged Frege that he abandoned mathematics altogether and went into university administration. Faced with this profound and bewildering foundational question of the value of 2 + 2, mathematicians followed the reasonable course of action: they just ignored the whole thing. And so everyone reverted to 2 + 2 = 4 with nothing being done with its rival equation during the 20th century.

There had been rumors that Bourbaki was planning to devote a volume to 2 + 2 = 5 (the first forty pages taken up by the symbolic expression for the number five), but those rumor remained unconfirmed. Recently, though, there have been reported computer-assisted proofs that 2 + 2 = 5, typically involving computers belonging to utility companies. Perhaps the 21st century will see yet another revival of this historic equation.


Regards,                 Rybka

 

[HomerPindar]

LOL

clapclapclapclapclap....

That was immensly entertaining, Rybka, thank you, regardless of any relation any of these post may have to SJ, I enjoyed them.

An important addendum to 2+2=5:

During the construction of the Apple IIe there developed a problem.. you guessed it, if you entered in 2+2 you got 5. John Draper (more commonly known as Capt. Crunch) was working for Apple at the time and was instructed to fix the problem. Being a resourceful engineer that he was, he simply hard-coded in a patch, if 5 then 4 if 2+2. That patch, to this day, can be uncoded on any Apple IIe, thereby reaffirming what most of us only guessed at, 2+2=5.

(that story was taken from the book "Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution" by Steven Levy. I'm betting I remember the John Draper/Capt Crunch connection to the event, but it has been a decade since I read it)

HomerPindar

 

[Rybka]

A K-dog story

KarmaDog was in a bar drinking, celebrating a good week. He met a cute girl and they started drinking, then a bit of flirting. He mentioned that he had just gotten divorced, and she said, "Isn't that funny, I just got divorced too"

A few drinks later, she said "why did you get divorced, you seem like such a nice guy?" KarmaDog replied that it was because he liked kinky sex and his wife hadn't.

She said, "that's the same reason I got divorced, I like kinky sex and my husband didn't".
A few drinks later, the inevitable happened and they went to her apartment.

After a few kisses, she excused herself to get more comfortable. she put on her leather outfit, nipple rings, 8 inch spiked heel boots, and a whip. when she came back out of the bedroom KarmaDog was zipping his pants up.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Replied KarmaDog, "I'm finished"

WE said, "I thought you liked kinky sex?"

KarmaDog said "I chewed your coffee table, pissed on the floor,screwed your dog, and shit in your purse. - Now I'm out of here!"

 

[HomerPindar]

LOL

funnier and funnier clapclapclapclap

oh, and um...just in case ...may you never get to know me.

HomerPindar

 

[karmadog]

Actually, I pissed on the curtains.

And I tied up her dog. I said I was kinky, not into bestiality.

 

[Rybka]

The Ladies Of Lit.

Karmadog is sitting in a bar on a typical day, when the door bursts open and in come four exuberant lady Lit. poets. They go up to the bar, order five bottles of champagne and ten glasses, take their order over and sit down at a large table. The corks are popped, the glasses are filled and the poetesses begin toasting and chanting, "51 days, 51 days, 51 days!"

Soon, three more Lady Lit. poets arrive, take up their drinks and the chanting grows. "51 days, 51 days, 51 days!"

Two more poetesses show up and soon their voices are joined in raising the roof. "51 days, 51 days, 51 days!"

Finally, WickedEve comes in with a picture under her arm. She walks over to the table, sets the picture in the middle and the table erupts.

Up jump the others, they begin dancing around the table, exchanging high-five's, all the while chanting, "51 days, 51 days, 51 days!"

Karmadog can't contain his curiosity any longer, so he walks over to the table. There in the center is a beautifully framed child's puzzle of the Cookie Monster.

When the frenzy dies down a little bit, the Kdog asks one of the Poetesses, "What's all the chanting and celebration about?"

WickedEve, the Lit. lady who brought in the picture pipes in, "Everyone thinks that poetesses are dumb and even S.J. and _Land make fun of us. So, we decided to set the record straight. Ten of us got together, bought that puzzle and put it together."

"The side of the box said 2-4 years, but we put it together in 51 days!"


Regards,                 Rybka

 

[Rybka]

Heavenly dogs

Three Lit. women die together in an accident and go to heaven. When they get there, St. Peter says, "We only have one rule here in heaven...don't step on the dogs!" So they enter heaven, and sure enough, there are dogs all over the place; big ones, little ones! It is almost impossible not to step on a dog, and although they try their best to avoid them, the first woman, Angeline, accidentally steps on one. Along comes St. Peter with the ugliest man she ever saw. St. Peter chains them together and says "Your punishment for stepping on a dog is to spend eternity chained to this ugly man!"

The next day, the second woman, Lauren.Hynde, steps accidentally on a dog, and along comes St. Peter, who doesn't miss a thing, and with him is another extremely ugly man. He chains them together with the same admonishment as for Angeline. The third woman, WickedEve, has observed all this and, not wanting to be chained for all eternity to an ugly man, is very, VERY careful where she steps. She manages to go months without stepping on any dogs, but one day St. Peter comes up to her with the most handsome man she has ever laid eyes on ... very tall, long eye-lashes, muscular, and thin.

St. Peter chains them together without saying a word. WickedEve remarks, "I wonder what I did to deserve being chained to you for all of eternity?" SmithPeter says, "I don't know about you, but I stepped on a dog!"

 

[Senna Jawa]

As the fate wanted, John Paul II and Bill Clinton went to see St. Peter together. And the next thing, what do you know, the heavenly bureaucracy and all, Clinton goes to Heaven, while JP II went to Hell. So, JP II objects. He sends a memo to St. Peter: how come? I have devoted my life to God, to people, to Church...

Ok, the mistake has been corrected, and the next day JP II, on his way to Heaven passes by Clinton on his way to Hell. JP II stops to chat. He tells Clinton:

Bill, I am so happy, I was dreaming about it all my life, and now, finally, I am going to see Mary, the Virgin.

And Clinton tells JP II:

    Holy Father, I am sorry, but you are one day late.

 

[Suzi]

*smiles*

As the fate wanted, John Paul II and Bill Clinton went to see St. Peter together. And the next thing, what do you know, the heavenly bureaucracy and all, Clinton goes to Heaven, while JP II went to Hell. So, JP II objects. He sends a memo to St. Peter: how come? I have devoted my life to God, to people, to Church...

Ok, the mistake has been corrected, and the next day JP II, on his way to Heaven passes by Clinton on his way to Hell. JP II stops to chat. He tells Clinton:

Bill, I am so happy, I was dreaming about it all my life, and now, finally, I am going to see Mary, the Virgin.

And Clinton tells JP II:

    Holy Father, I am sorry, but you are one day late.

ROTFL!!! I like this one!

 

[Rybka]

A Rybka Story

A old poet went fishing out in the Gulf Stream one day. Suddenly, his rod began to bend. Casually, he reached for it and began reeling. As he brought the fish in the boat, he heard it say,
"Oh thank you kind sir!, you are my savior!, I am a beautiful Russian princess who was cursed by a WickedEvel witch, and turned into a most beautiful fish!, If only you will give me a kiss, I will turn back into a beautiful princess!, and in gratitude for your kindness, I shall be your love slave for life!"

The old poet, in a hemming and hawing way, grabbed his pliers, carefully removed the hook from the fish's mouth, and nonchalantly dropped the fish into the livewell.

"Oh sir!, kind sir!" came a muffled cry from the livewell, "aren't you going to give me a kiss?, "Remember, kind sir that I have promised to become your love slave for life!"

"Don't think so." replied the old poet, "At my age, I'd just as soon have a talking fish!"

 

[karmadog]

Boudreau, the coonass, had fished every way he could in the South. He had been deep sea fishing, he had fished the bayous, he had gone bone fishing in the shallows, but he had never caught the Rybka. One day, he heard of ice fishing, and Boudreau thought to himself (as though he could think to anyone else), Perhaps that is how I can catch the Rybka.

So Boudreau decided to ice fish.

Boudreau went up North, and he bought all of the accoutrements that might be required. He bought an auger, and he bought a warm coat and the tiny little pole that ice fishing required.

When he got on the ice he started drilling (with his auger), but he got no more than three inches deep, when he heard a huge booming voice, "THERE ARE NO FISH HERE!!!"

Well, Boudreau, he was a little frightened, so he looked for another place to drill, and he got that auger going again (looking for the elusive Rybka fish). But, again, he got no more than three inches into the ice before he heard this big booming voice, "THERE ARE NO FISH HERE!!!!"

Well Boudreau, he was might skeered.

But he hesitantly asked, "Are you God?"

And the Voice said, "No. I'm the rink manager."

 

[Angeline]

A Fishy Tale

My great uncle Isidore, known hereafter as Izzy, was a real
Damon Runyanesque kind of guy. Never married, never worked a day in his life, spent most of his time at "the track." Lived with my Grandma Rose (the mean, chain-smoking cursing grandma as opposed to Nana Mame, the nice sweet apple-strudel baking grandma). Rose screamed at him a lot. Uncle Izzie didn't much care. He would roll his eyes and wave his hand at her.

He liked to fish. In the East River yet. If you know New York City, you know that the East River is not a place that produces edible things. If Luca Brazzi were real, he'd be in the East River, if you receive my meaning.

For Izzie though, fishing in the East River must have been the equivalent of Fresh Air Camp because he did it quite a bit. He never caught anything. Nothing. Not a Luca. Not even a Rybka. Until.

One day he caught a fish. Really. This is family lore. I am not making this up. He caught whatever swims in the East River. He was proud. Took it home to the tenament apartment he and Rose shared on Rivington Street on the Lower East Side of Manhatten.

Rose was never one to suffer fools gladly, nor was she one to miss an opportunity to be scathing. Especially to her no-account, track-going, loafing, bum of a brother. She looked up from the stove where she had been bending over a pot of indeterminate substance. (I can only tell you that she appeared to have a variety of foods in the icebox, but whatever she cooked magically turned into potatos.)

"Get that stinking fish out of my apartment," she said nastily, ashes dripping from the L&M nonfilter cigarette that hung, in perpetuity, from the corner of her mouth. Then she turned back to her potatos. Izzie knew better that to mess with Rose, so he left. Avec poisson.

Back then, so they tell me, the Lower East Side was teeming with life, sort of its own East River, but busier. Maybe it was a Friday, so it would have been really crowded with people rushing around, preparing for the Sabbath. And who wouldn't want a fine East River fish that even an ichthyologist couldn't identify as the centerpiece of the Sabbath dinner? This was Izzie's reasoning.

Of course, no one wanted it. It was from the East River, for God's sake. It was crowded on the Lower East Side--a city in a city yes--but it was also a neighborhood, an eastern European schtetl recreated--everyone knew everyone. They knew Izzie hadn't caught that thing off some Coney Island pier.

It being summer, the fruit of Izzie's labors ripened quickly. Now, not only could he not give the fish away, Izzie couldn't even throw it away. "Not by my shop you won't." "Not next to my stoop!"

But my great uncle Izzie was a very resourceful man. How else could he have survived all those years not working, yet living reletively well?

He snuck back into the apartment and got an old cardboard suitcase. Put mousuier stinky poisson inside it and took the subway--which at that time was still the "el" uptown to Times Square (Times Square is actually midtown, but it was uptown from the lower east side.)

Times Square was crowded. And, it being New York City, the crowd had more than its share of those weird unsavory types that flock to such places. Izzie put the suitcase down in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. He walked away a bit and watched. He always claimed, in the retelling, that it took less than a minute.

Someone came along, looked from side to side, and seeing that no one else was interested--only in New York City can hundreds stream disinterestedly past a suitcase left on the sidewalk--picked it up and walked away fast.

I've heard that story many times since I was a little girl. It seems essentially American to me.

 

[Rybka]

Kdog in Ireland

Karmadog moved to Ireland and one day walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender asks him, "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time."

Kdog replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and now I'm here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together."

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The Kdog becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: He orders three pints and drinks them in
turn. One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss."

Karmadog looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. "Oh, no," he says, "everyone's fine. I've just quit drinking for Lent."

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Kdog in Ireland

Karmadog moved to Ireland and one day walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender asks him, "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time."

Kdog replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and now I'm here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together."

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The Kdog becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: He orders three pints and drinks them in
turn. One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss."

Karmadog looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. "Oh, no," he says, "everyone's fine. I've just quit drinking for Lent."

No, that's not what he said. he said:

    Everybody is fine. I just have joined AA.

Regards,

 

[Senna Jawa]

Rybka, thank you for so much fun

Rybka, your anecdots/jokes and stories, and their rendition, are fantastic. (I even send a couple of them to my friends ).

Best regards,

 

[Rybka]

RE: Rybka, thank you for so much fun

I am glad you have enjoyed this tread, S.J.
Needless to say, I did not invent the humor, I just rewrite it a little bit.

Here is another one that is more appropriate for this site!

A team of archaeologists was excavating in Israel when they came upon a cave. Written on the wall of the cave were the following symbols in order of appearance....
1. A dog
2. A donkey
3. A shovel
4. A fish
5. A Star of David

They decided that this was a unique find and the writings were at least more than three thousand years old. They chopped out the piece of stone and had it brought to the museum where archaeologists from all over the world came to study the ancient symbols.

They held a huge meeting after months of conferences to discuss what they could agree was the meaning of the markings.

The President of their Society stood up and pointed at the first drawing and said, "This looks like a dog. We can judge that this was a highly intelligent race as they knew to have animals for companionship.

To prove this statement you can see that the next symbol resembles a donkey, so, they were even smart enough to have animals help them till the soil.

The next drawing looks like a shovel of some sort, which means they even had tools to help them.

Even further proof of their high intelligence is the fish which means that they had a famine that hit the earth and when the food didn't grow, they would take to the sea for food.

The last symbol appears to be the Star of David which means they were evidently Hebrews."

The audience applauded enthusiastically and the President
smiled and said, "I'm glad to see that you are all in full agreement with our interpretations."

Suddenly a little old Jewish man stood up in the back of the room and said, "I object to every word. The explanation of what the writings say is quite simple."

"First of all, everyone knows that Hebrews don't read from left to right, but from right to left...... Now, look again..... It now says :
"'HOLY MACKEREL, DIG THE ASS ON THAT BITCH!'"


Regards,                 Rybka

 

[Senna Jawa]

Enjoy!

The World's Funniest Joke -- Official

Also an audio thingy:

                be happy

Regards,

 

[Rybka]

World's #1 Golf Joke

Jesus and Saint Peter went out to play golf one day. On the first hole, a 480 yard par 5, Saint Peter teed up first, and drove his ball about 280 yards straight down the middle of the fairway.

Christ placed his ball on the tee, took a few practice swings, and addressed the ball. He took a mighty swing and just topped the ball. It barely went 100 feet. Just as it stopped, a gopher popped out of a hole, grabbed the ball in its mouth and began to run towards the hole. It had run almost 100 yards when an eagle swooped out of the sky and grabbed the gopher with its talons.

Climbing into the sky, the eagle headed towards the green, carrying the gopher with the golf ball still in its mouth. Just as the eagle was over the green, a bolt of lightning came out of the blue and zapped the bird! POW!!!

The eagle dropped the gopher, which landed on the green roughly 20 feet from the hole. The ball popped out of the gopher's mouth upon impact and rolled towards the hole. It came to a stop right on the lip of the hole . Suddenly there was a small earthquake and the tremor caused the ball to fall into the cup. A hole in one!

Saint Peter turned to Christ and said, "You going to play golf or you going to fuck around?"

 

[karmadog]

Re: the world's funniest joke

The world's funniest joke isn't very funny.

 

[Rybka]

THE SPELLING CHECKER POEM

I have a spelling chequer,
it came with my PC.
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss steaks aye can knot see.

Eye ran this poem threw it.
Your sure real glad two no.
Its very polished in its weigh,
My chequer tolled me sew.

A chequer is a blessing.
It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
It helps me right awl stiles to reed,
And aides me when eye rime.

Each frays come posed up an my screen.
Eye trussed too bee a joule.
The chequer pour o'er every word
To cheque sum spelling rule.

Bee fore a veiling chequers
Hour spelling mite decline.
And if we're laks oar have a laps,
We wood be maid to wine.

Butt now bee cause my spelling
Is chequed with such grate flare,
There are know faults with in my cite,
Of nun eye am a wear.

Now spelling does not phase me,
It does knot bring a tier.
My pay purrs awl due glad den.
With wrapped words fare to hear.

To rite with care is quite a feet
Of witch won should be proud,
And wee mussed dew the best wee can,,
Sew flaws are knot aloud.

Sow ewe can sea why aye dew prays
Such soft wear four pea seas,
And why eye brake in two averse
Buy righting want too please.

 

[Rybka]

A poet goes shopping

Senna Jawa goes into a store and tells the clerk, "I'd like some Polish sausage."
The clerk looks at him and says, "Are you Polish?"

S.J., clearly offended, says, "Well, yes I am. But let me ask you something. If I had asked for Italian sausage would you ask me if I was Italian?"

"Or if I had asked for German bratwurst, would you ask me if I was German? Or if I asked for a kosher hot dog would you ask me if I was Jewish? Or if I had asked for a taco would you ask if I was Mexican? Would you, huh? Would you?"

The clerk says, "Well, no."

With deep self-righteous indignation, our poet says, "Well, all right then, why did you ask me if I'm Polish just because I ask for Polish sausage?"

The clerk replies, "Because this is Home Depot."

 

[Angeline]

Really Good Rybka

You made me laugh out loud with that one.

 

[Rybka]

The Thermometer

Upon arriving home, a husband was met at the door by his sobbing poet wife. Tearfully she explained, "It's the pharmacist. He insulted me terribly this morning on the phone."

Immediately, the husband drove downtown to confront the druggist and demand an apology.

Before he could say more than a word or two, the druggist told him, "Now, just a minute, listen to my side of the story.

"This morning the alarm failed to go off, so I was late getting up. I went without breakfast and hurried out to the car, only to realize that I locked the house with both house and car keys inside."

"I had to break a window to get my keys. Then, driving a little too fast, I got a speeding ticket. When I was about three blocks from the store, I got a flat tire. When I finally got here, there was a bunch of people waiting for me to open up."

"I got the store opened and started waiting on these people and, all the time, the damn phone was ringing off the hook."
He continued, "Then I had to break a roll of nickels against the cash register drawer to make change, and they spilled all over the floor."

"I got down on my hands and knees to pick up the nickels. The phone was still ringing."

"When I came up, I cracked my head on the open cash drawer which made me stagger back against a showcase with a bunch of perfume bottles on it. . . . all of them hit the floor and broke."

"Meanwhile, the phone is still ringing with no let up, and I finally got to answer it. It was your wife. She wanted to know how to use a rectal thermometer. . . "

"and believe me, mister, as God is my witness, all I did was tell her."

Regards,                       Rybka