Friday humour - March 14, 2003

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

    And welcome to our special pre-war edition of FH.  (Well, this time
    next week, it might just be on?).  And thanks to all of you who've
    passed on material over the last few weeks, too.  It's made the
    compilation job much easier, with plenty to pick from.

    Terry Lane (ABC radio commentator, philosopher, author, and renovator)
    was musing yesterday on the Faine show (Melbourne's 3LO) on the lives of
    the engineers and scientists who *design* all these exotic weapons.  As in:
    "What happens when these weapons engineers get home from work?  Are they
    just like us when they walk in the door?  Would it just be something
    like ..."

      "Hello dear, how was your day?"

      "Oh, good, good - we finally finished the MOAB design this arvo"

      "Well, how lovely!  How does that work, dear?"

      "Well, fairly straightforward.  It creates a highly inflammable gas
       cloud a couple of kilometres wide, catalyses it using lasers, and
       then detonates it."

      "Oh, how exciting!  How does it compare with older designs?"

      "Much more effective.  Creates a massive shockwave with very high
       temperatures and burns up all the oxygen.  So if the heat and the
       shockwave doesn't get 'em, the vacuum effect rips their lungs and innards
       out if they're anywhere near the epicentre - and it suffocates the rest."

      "That sounds absolutely wonderful, dear.  Now, you must be so tired."

      "Oh, yes, I am.  Now, sweetheart - what's for dinner?"

    Terry was simply providing a little black humour as he chatted on with
    Jon Faine (the morning show host).  He had already admitted that he was
    now almost totally lost for words at the complete lack of any reasonable
    justification for this 'Clayton's' war.

    Think about it - if you were the Project Leader for the design of such
    weapons, what would you tell your kids?  (No doubt these guys get pretty
    good money - but one really wonders how well they do sleep at night.)

    One can but maybe hope that when our kids grow up and inherit our world,
    they *might* just have more sense than this current bunch of dildos.
    Especially now, with the Internet and the burgeoning levels of
    communication (email, SMS, IRC etc) between so many people in various
    countries, maybe there's finally some possibility that in one or two
    generations, people might actually understand each other sufficiently to
    forgo this sort of diabolical nonsense.

    Mind you, there is hope for *some* bods in the service of the US Govt.
    Just have a read of this piece as passed on by Mike Horne ...


       Okay, onto humour.  Spied this one in our latest "Minerals News":

An English professor announced to his class "There are two words I don't
allow in my class.  One is 'gross', and the other is 'cool'."

A voice from the back of the room called out "So ... what are the words?"

       Passed on by QCAT, this letter to the London Observer from Terry Jones
       (of Monty Python fame) back in January presents irrefutable logic
       in favour of fixing up those nasty neighbours down the road ...

   Letter to the Observer
   Sunday January 26, 2003

I'm really excited by George Bush's latest reason for bombing Iraq: he's
running out of patience.  And so am I!  For some time now I've been really
pissed off with Mr Johnson, who lives a couple of doors down the street.

Well, him and Mr Patel, who runs the health food shop.  They both give me
queer looks, and I'm sure Mr Johnson is planning something nasty for me,
but so far I haven't been able to discover what.

I've been round to his place a few times to see what he's up to, but he's
got everything well hidden.  That's how devious he is.  As for Mr Patel,
don't ask me how I know, I just know - from very good sources - that he is,
in reality, a Mass Murderer.  I have leafleted the street telling them that
if we don't act first, he'll pick us off one by one.

Some of my neighbours say, if I've got proof, why don't I go to the police?
But that's simply ridiculous.  The police will say that they need evidence of
a crime with which to charge my neighbours.  They'll come up with endless red
tape and quibbling about the rights and wrongs of a pre-emptive strike and
all the while Mr Johnson will be finalising his plans to do terrible things
to me, while Mr Patel will be secretly murdering people.  Since I'm the only
one in the street with a decent range of automatic firearms, I reckon it's
up to me to keep the peace.  But until recently that's been a little difficult.

Now, however, George W. Bush has made it clear that all I need to do is run
out of patience, and then I can wade in and do whatever I want!

And let's face it, Mr Bush's carefully thought-out policy towards Iraq is the
only way to bring about international peace and security.  The one certain
way to stop Muslim fundamentalist suicide bombers targeting the US or the UK
is to bomb a few Muslim countries that have never threatened us.

That's why I want to blow up Mr Johnson's garage and kill his wife and
children.  Strike first!  That'll teach him a lesson.  Then he'll leave us
in peace and stop peering at me in that totally unacceptable way.

Mr Bush makes it clear that all he needs to know before bombing Iraq is that
Saddam is a really nasty man and that he has weapons of mass destruction -
even if no one can find them.  I'm certain I've just as much justification
for killing Mr Johnson's wife and children as Mr Bush has for bombing Iraq.

Mr Bush's long-term aim is to make the world a safer place by eliminating
'rogue states' and 'terrorism'.  It's such a clever long-term aim because
how can you ever know when you've achieved it?

How will Mr Bush know when he's wiped out all terrorists?  When every single
terrorist is dead?  But then a terrorist is only a terrorist once he's
committed an act of terror.  What about would-be terrorists?  These are the
ones you really want to eliminate, since most of the known terrorists, being
suicide bombers, have already eliminated themselves.  Perhaps Mr Bush needs to
wipe out everyone who could possibly be a future terrorist?  Maybe he can't be
sure he's achieved his objective until every Muslim fundamentalist is dead?
But then some moderate Muslims might convert to fundamentalism.  Maybe the
only really safe thing to do would be for Mr Bush to eliminate all Muslims?

It's the same in my street.  Mr Johnson and Mr Patel are just the tip of the
iceberg.  There are dozens of other people in the street who I don't like and
who - quite frankly - look at me in odd ways.  No one will be really safe
until I've wiped them all out.  My wife says I might be going too far but I
tell her I'm simply using the same logic as the President of the United States.
That shuts her up.  Like Mr Bush, I've run out of patience, and if that's
a good enough reason for the President, it's good enough for me.  I'm going
to give the whole street two weeks - no, 10 days - to come out in the open
and hand over all aliens and interplanetary hijackers, galactic outlaws and
interstellar terrorist masterminds, and if they don't hand them over nicely
and say 'Thank you', I'm going to bomb the entire street to kingdom come.

It's just as sane as what George W. Bush is proposing - and, in contrast to
what he's intending, my policy will destroy only one street.

   Yours sincerely


      Okay, to the beer factory now and a quickie from John the Klimek:

                                GOLF SHWINGGGG

A husband and a wife want to take golf lessons from a pro at a local golf
club.  The man and woman meet the pro and head to the driving range.  The man
goes up first.  He swings and hits the ball 100 yards.

The golf pro says, "Not bad, Now hold your club as firmly as you hold your
wife's breast."

The man follows instructions and hits the ball 300 yards.

The golf pro says "Excellent!"

Now the woman takes her turn.  She hits the ball 30 yards.

Golf pro: "Not bad, but try holding the club like you hold your husband's dick."

She swings and the ball goes 10 yards.

Golf pro: "Not bad.  Now try taking the club out of your mouth."

     I try to avoid repeats, but I just noticed this golfing joke that we
     ran back on Jan 9 1998.  It still made me laugh - here goes:

Moses, Jesus, and an old man are golfing.  Moses steps up to the tee and
hits the ball.  It goes sailing over the fairway and lands in the water trap.
Moses parts the water and chips the ball onto the green.

Jesus steps to the tee and hits the ball.  It goes sailing over the fairway
and lands in the water trap.  Jesus walks on the water and chips the ball
onto the green.

The old man steps up to the tee and hits the ball.  It goes sailing over the
fairway and heads for the water trap, when a fish jumps up and grabs the ball
in its mouth.  As the fish is falling back down into the water, an eagle
swoops down and grabs the fish in its claws.

The eagle flies off over the green, when a lightning bolt shoots from the
sky and barely misses it.  Startled, the eagle drops the fish.

When the fish hits the ground, the ball pops out of its mouth and rolls into
the hole for a hole-in-one.

Jesus then turns to the old man and says: "Dad, if you don't stop stuffing
around, we won't bring you next time."

     And just before we hit the pics for this week, another engineering
     joke, again from John the K over at the malthouse.  And obviously one
     could replace the word "engineer" with "scientist" without losing too
     much in the translation ...


      Verily, I say unto ye,
      marry not an engineer.
      For an engineer is a strange being
      and possessed of many evils.

      Yea, he speaketh always in parables
      which he calleth formulae.
      He wieldeth a big stick
      which he calleth a slide rule.
      And he hath only one bible,
      a handbook.

      He thinketh only of strains and stresses,
      and without end of thermodynamics.
      He showeth always a serious aspect
      and seemeth not to know how to smile.
      He picketh his seat in a car by the springs thereof
      and not by the damsels.

      Neither does he know a waterfall
      except by its horsepower,
      Nor a sunset
      except that he must turn on the light,
      Nor a damsel
      except by her weight.

      Always he carrieth his books with him,
      and he entertaineth his sweetheart with steam tables.
      Verily, though his damsel expecteth chocolates when he calleth,
      She openeth the package to discover samples of iron ore.

      Yea, he holdeth her hand
      but to measure the friction thereof,
      and kisseth her
      only to test the viscosity of her lips,
      for in his eyes shineth a far away look
      that is neither love nor longing,
      but a vain attempt to recall formulae.

      Even as a boy, he pulleth a girl's hair
      but to test its elasticity.
      But as a man,
      he deviseth different devices.
      For he counteth the vibrations of her heartstrings
      And seeketh ever to pursue his scientific investigations.

      Even his own heart flutterings
      he counteth as a measure of fluctuation.
      And his marriage is but a
      simultaneous equation involving two unknowns.
      And yielding diverse results.

      Verily, I say unto ye,
      do not marry an engineer.

      And yes folks - it's picture time!  The first one (from young
      apprentice wallah Andrew in computing) is one I thought we'd already
      had, but I can't see it in the archive.  So here 'tis:

Can you tell the difference?  Click here

      Just noticed this one in our local rag here in Melbourne, "The Age":
Another message from little Johnny (the Oz Prime Minister): Click here

      And from Maria the Softing:

Male Chauvinist Pig: Click here
Snow blower: Click here
Why men shouldn't take messages: Click here

      I forget who passed this one on ...

Falafel King: Click here

      And the biggest collection this week (just narrowly beating Kero)
      floated down from sunny QCAT.  Here we go:

Get ready - next Thursday is International BBBJ Day!  Click here
The world's most lewd belly-button tattoo: Click here
Some comments on the attitude of the French: Click here

       Now these guys are real Safety Officer material:
OH&S #1: Click here
OH&S #2: Click here
OH&S #3: Click here

       A silly, big, and slow to load movie:
Matrix cow (seems to kill Netscape - why?) (M$ proprietary WMV movie clip): Click here

       Bringing supplies to our oil rigs during last weeks cyclone:
Shot #1: Click here
Shot #2: Click here
Shot #3: Click here
Shot #4: Click here
Shot #5: Click here
Shot #6: Click here

     And finally from QCAT, some miscellaneous stuff for your amusement:

He-e-elp ... Click here
Drop the anchor! Click here
Ooops ... Click here
Anyone home?  Click here
Ulp!  Click here

       David Mags passed on a good Dilbert or two ...

Telephone queues: Click here
Eargarettes: Click here

       Steve Kerosine also passed on a prodigeous amount of pictorial
       stuff this week, including such gems as:

Oz T-shirt: Click here
I slept with ... Click here

     and a collection of "Day after the night before" pics (yours, Steve?)

Danb #1: Click here
Danb #2: Click here
Danb #3: Click here
Danb #4: Click here
Danb #5: Click here
Danb #6: Click here
Danb #7: Click here

     and a couple more from Steve:

The Reds know best: Click here
Michael Jackson's latest operation: Click here

     Neil Francis (from beautiful downtown WA) sent these over to us:

Dear Mum and Dad: Click here
6GHz CPU: Click here
The salute: Click here
Art tour: Click here

     And (wow!) - even one from Dave McCallum this week ...
New art: Click here

     Finally, Eric Frazer showed me this postcard yesterday, and we thought
     you might enjoy it too:

Send this card to all your friends ...  Click here

       Now back to some written stuff with another one from Maria:

A man from Texas in a Volkswagen Beetle pulls up next to a guy in a Rolls
Royce with Nevada plates at a stop sign.  Their windows are open and he yells
at the guy in the Rolls: "Hey, you got a telephone in that Rolls?"

The guy in the Rolls says, "Yes, of course I do."

"I got one too... see?"

"Uh, huh, yes, that's very nice."

"You got a fax machine?"

"Why, actually, yes, I do."

"I do too!  See?  It's right here!"


The light is just about to turn green and the guy in the Volkswagen says,
"So, do you have a double bed in back there?"

And the guy in the Rolls says, "NO!  Do you?"

"Yep, got my double bed right in back here, see?"

The light turns and the man in the Volkswagen takes off.

Well, the guy in the Rolls is not about to be one-upped, so he goes
immediately to a customising shop and orders them to put a double bed in back
of his car.  About two weeks later, the job is finally done and he picks up
his car and drives all over town looking for the Volkswagen beetle with the
Texas plates.  He finally finds it parked alongside the road so he pulls his
Rolls up next to it.

The windows on the Volkswagen are all fogged up and he feels a little awkward
about it, but he gets out of his newly modified Rolls and taps on the foggy
window of the Volkswagen.

The man in the Volkswagen finally opens the window a crack and peeks out.

The guy in the Rolls says, "Hey.  Remember me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember you.

What's up?"

"Check this out.  I got a double bed installed in my Rolls."


        Finally, it's back over to Carlton and the malt factory for a few
        more from John's humour list:

                                     OH, NO!

Two secretaries were sitting in their office chatting, when all of a
sudden, one bursts out laughing.

The other asks, "What's so funny?"

The first secretary replies, "Last week, I found a dozen condoms in the
boss' desk, and I poked a hole in every one of them."

The other girl fainted.


                                AVIATION HUMOR

   (From Brett in the RAAF)

Blue water Navy truism; There are more planes in the ocean than there are
submarines in the sky.

If the wings are travelling faster than the fuselage, it's probably a
helicopter - and therefore, unsafe.

Navy carrier pilots to Air Force pilots: Flaring is like squatting to pee.

When one engine fails on a twin-engine airplane you always have enough power
left to get you to the scene of the crash.

Without ammunition the USAF would be just another expensive flying club.

What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots?  If a
pilot screws up, the pilot dies; If ATC screws up, the pilot dies.

Never trade luck for skill.

The three most common expressions (or famous last words) in aviation are:
"Why is it doing that?", "Where are we?" and "Oh S#!+!"

Weather forecasts are horoscopes with numbers.

Progress in airline flying; now a flight attendant can get a pilot pregnant.

Airspeed, altitude or brains.  Two are always needed to successfully complete
the flight.

A smooth landing is mostly luck; two in a row is all luck; three in a row
is prevarication.

I remember when sex was safe and flying was dangerous.

Mankind has a perfect record in aviation; we never left one up there!

Flashlights are tubular metal containers kept in a flight bag for the purpose
of storing dead batteries.

Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your plight to a person
on the ground incapable of understanding it or doing anything about it.

When a flight is proceeding incredibly well, something was forgotten.

Just remember, if you crash because of weather, your funeral will be held on
a sunny day.

Advice given to RAF pilots during W.W.II:
When a prang (crash) seems inevitable, endeavour to strike the softest,
cheapest object in the vicinity as slowly and gently as possible.

The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can just barely kill you.
(Attributed to Max Stanley, Northrop test pilot)

A pilot who doesn't have any fear probably isn't flying his plane to its
maximum.  (Jon McBride, astronaut)

If you're faced with a forced landing, fly the thing as far into the crash
as possible.  (Bob Hoover - renowned aerobatic and test pilot)

If an airplane is still in one piece, don't cheat on it; ride the bastard down.
(Ernest K. Gann, author & aviator)

Though I Fly Through the Valley of Death I Shall Fear No Evil For I am at
80,000 Feet and Climbing.  (sign over the entrance to the SR-71 operating
location Kadena, Japan).

You've never been lost until you've been lost at Mach 3.  (Paul F. Crickmore -
test pilot)

Never fly in the same cockpit with someone braver than you.

There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime.
(Sign over squadron ops desk at Davis-Monthan AFB, AZ, 1970).

The three best things in life are a good landing, a good orgasm, and a good
bowel movement.  The night carrier landing is one of the few opportunities in
life where you get to experience all three at the same time.
(Author unknown, but someone who's been there)

"Now I know what a dog feels like watching TV."
(A DC-9 captain trainee attempting to check out on the 'glass cockpit' of
an A-320).

If something hasn't broken on your helicopter, it's about to.

Basic Flying Rules

Try to stay in the middle of the air.  Do not go near the edges of it.  The
edges of the air can be recognised by the appearance of ground, buildings,
sea, trees and interstellar space.  It is much more difficult to fly there.

You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes full power to
taxi to the terminal.



Gallic Wars - Lost.  In a war whose ending foreshadows the next 2000 years of
French history, France is conquered by of all things, an Italian.

Hundred Years War - Mostly lost, saved at last by female schizophrenic who
inadvertently creates The First Rule of French Warfare; "France's armies are
victorious only when not led by a Frenchman."

Italian Wars - Lost.  France becomes the first and only country to ever lose
two wars when fighting Italians.

Wars of Religion - France goes 0-5-4 against the Huguenots.

Thirty Years War - France is technically not a participant, but manages
to get invaded anyway.  Claims a tie on the basis that eventually the other
participants started ignoring her.

War of Devolution - Tied.  Frenchmen take to wearing red flowerpots as

The Dutch War - Tied.

War of the Augsburg League/King William's War/French and Indian War - Lost,
but claimed as a tie. three ties in a row induces deluded Frogophiles the
world over to label the period as the height of French military power.

War of the Spanish Succession - Lost.  The War also gave the French their
first taste of a Marlborough, which they have loved every since.

American Revolution - In a move that will become quite familiar to future
Americans, France claims a win even though the English colonists saw far
more action.  This is later known as "de Gaulle Syndrome", and leads to the
Second Rule of French Warfare; "France only wins when America does most of
the fighting."

French Revolution - Won, primarily due the fact that the opponent was also

The Napoleonic Wars - Lost.  Temporary victories (remember the First
Rule!) due to leadership of a Corsican, who ended up being no match for a
British footwear designer.

The Franco-Prussian War - Lost.  Germany first plays the role of drunk Frat
boy to France's ugly girl home alone on a Saturday night.

World War I - Tied and on the way to losing, France is saved by the United
States.  Thousands of French women find out what it's like to not only sleep
with a winner, but one who doesn't call her "Fraulein."  Sadly, widespread
use of condoms by American forces forestalls any improvement in the French

World War II - Lost.  Conquered French liberated by the United States and
Britain just as they finish learning the Horst Wessel Song.

War in Indochina - Lost.  French forces plead sickness, take to bed with the
Dien Bien Flu.

Algerian Rebellion - Lost.  Loss marks the first defeat of a western army by
a Non-Turkic Muslim force since the Crusades, and produces the First Rule of
Muslim Warfare; "We can always beat the French."  This rule is identical to
the First Rules of the Italians, Russians, Germans, English, Dutch, Spanish,
Vietnamese and Esquimaux.

War on Terrorism - France, keeping in mind its recent history, surrenders
to Germans and Muslims just to be safe.  Attempts to surrender to Vietnamese
ambassador fail after he takes refuge in a McDonald's.
[End Friday humour]

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