Fred was saying his prayers as his father passed by his bedroom door. “God
bless Mommy, and God bless Daddy, and please make Calais the capital of France.”
“Fred,” said his father, “why do you want Calais to be the capital of France?”
“Because that’s what I wrote in my geography test!”
Author: admin
Going Toastal
Subject: Going Toastal — a tale for the dilbert age Day 1: My boss, an engineer from the pre-CAD days, has successfully brought a generation of products from Acme Toaster Corp’s engineering labs to market. Bob is a wonder of mechanical ingenuity. All of us in the design department have the utmost respect for him, so I was honored when he appointed me the lead designer on the new Acme 2000 Toaster.Day 6: We met with the president, head of sales, and the marketing vice president today to hammer out the project’s requirements and specifications. Here at Acme, our market share is eroding to low-cost imports. We agreed to meet a cost of goods of $9.50 (100,000). I’ve identified the critical issue in the new design: a replacement for the timing spring we’ve used since the original 1922 model. Research with the focus groups shows that consumers set high expectations for their breakfast foods. Cafe latte from Starbuck’s goes best with a precise level of toastal browning. The Acme 2000 will give our customers the breakfast experience they desire. I estimated a design budget of $21,590 for this project and final delivery in seven weeks. I’ll need one assistant designer to help with the drawing packages. This is my first chance to supervise!Day 23: We’ve found the ideal spring material. Best of all, it’s a well-proven technology. Our projected cost of goods is almost $1.50 lower than our goal. Our rough prototype, which was completed just 12 days after we started, has been servicing the employee cafeteria for a week without a single hiccup. Toastal quality exceeds projections.Day 24: A major aerospace company that had run out of defense contractors to acquire has just snapped up that block of Acme stock sold to the Mac-kenzie family in the ’50s. At a companywide meeting, corporate assured us that this sale was only an investment and that nothing will change.Day 30: I showed the Acme 2000’s exquisitely crafted toastal-timing mechanism to Ms Primrose, the new engineering auditor. The single spring and four interlocking lever arms are things of beauty to me.Day 36: The design is complete. We’re starting a prototype run of 500 toasters tomorrow. I’m starting to wrap up the engineering effort. My new assistant did a wonderful job.Day 38: Suddenly, a major snag happened. Bob called me into his office. He seemed very uneasy as he informed me that those on high feel that the Acme 2000 is obsolete–something about using springs in the silicon age. I reminded Bob that the consultants had looked at using a microprocessor but figured that an electronic design would exceed our cost target by almost 50% with no real benefit in terms of toastal quality. ‘With a computer, our customers can load the bread the night before, program a finish time, and get a perfect slice of toast when they awaken,’ Bob intoned, as if reading from a script.Day 48: Chuck Compguy, the new microprocessor whiz, scrapped my idea of using a dedicated 4-bit CPU. ‘We need some horsepower if we’re gonna program this puppy in C,’ he said, while I stared fascinated at the old crumbs stuck in his wild beard. ‘Time-to-market, you know. Delivery is due in three months. We’ll just pop this cool new 8-bitter I found into it, whip up some code, and ship to the end user.’Day 120: The good news is that I’m getting to stretch my mechanical-design abilities. Chuck convinced management that the old spring-loaded, press-down lever control is obsolete. I’ve designed a ‘motorized insertion port,’ stealing ideas from a CD-ROM drive. Three cross-coupled, safety-interlock microswitches ensure that the heaters won’t come on unless users properly insert the toast. We’re seeing some reliability problems due to the temperature extremes, but I’m sure we can work those out.Day 132: New schedule: We now expect delivery in three months. We’ve replaced the 8-bitter with a Harvard- architecture, 16-bit, 3-MIPS CPU.Day 172: New schedule: We now expect delivery in three months.Day 194: The auditors convinced management we really need a graphical user interface with a full-screen LCD. ‘You’re gonna need some horsepower to drive that,’ Chuck warned us. ‘I recommend a 386 with a half-meg of RAM.’ He went back to design Revision J of the pc board.Day 268: New schedule: We now expect delivery in three months. We’ve cured most of the electronics’ temperature problems with a pair of fans, though management is complaining about the noise. Bob sits in his office all day, door locked, drinking Jack Daniels. Like clockwork, his wife calls every night around midnight, sobbing. I’m worried about him and mentioned my concern to Chuck. ‘Wife?’ he asked. ‘Wife? Yeah, I think I’ve got one of those and two or three kids, too. Now, let’s just stick another meg of RAM in here, OK?’Day 290: We gave up on the custom GUI and are now installing Windows CE. The auditors applauded Chuck’s plan to upgrade to a Pentium with 32 Mbytes of RAM. There’s still no functioning code, but the toaster is genuinely impressive. Four circuit boards, bundles of cables, and a gigabit of hard-disk space. ‘This sucker has more computer power than the entire world did 20 years ago,’ Chuck boasted proudly.Day 384: Toastal quality is sub-par. The addition of two more cooling fans keeps the electronics to a reasonable temperature but removes too much heat from the toast. I’m struggling with baffles to vector the air, but the thrust of all these fans spins the toaster around.
Saint Patrick's
SYMPTOM: Drinking fails to give taste and satisfaction, beer is unusually pale and clear. FAULT: Glass empty. ACTION: Find someone who will buy you another beer. SYMPTOM: Drinking fails to give taste and satisfaction, and the front of your shirt is wet. FAULT: Mouth not open when drinking or glass applied to wrong part of face. ACTION: Buy another beer and practice in front of mirror. Drink as many as needed to perfect drinking technique. SYMPTOM: Feet cold and wet. FAULT: Glass being held at incorrect angle. ACTION: Turn glass other way up so that open end points toward ceiling. SYMPTOM: Feet warm and wet. FAULT: Improper bladder control. ACTION: Go stand next to nearest dog. After a while complain to the owner about its lack of house training and demand a beer as compensation. SYMPTOM: Floor blurred. FAULT: You are looking through bottom of empty glass. ACTION: Find someone who will buy you another beer. SYMPTOM: Floor swaying. FAULT: Excessive air turbulence, perhaps due to air-hockey game in progress. ACTION: Insert broom handle down back of jacket. SYMPTOM: Floor moving. FAULT: You are being carried out. ACTION: Find out if you are taken to another bar. If not, complain loudly that you are being kidnapped. SYMPTOM: Opposite wall covered with ceiling tiles and fluorescent light strip across it. FAULT: You have fallen over backward. ACTION: If your glass is full and no one is standing on your drinking arm, stay put. If not, get someone to help you get up, latch yourself to bar. SYMPTOM: Everything has gone dim, mouth full of cigarette butts. FAULT: You have fallen forward. ACTION: See above. SYMPTOM: Everything has gone dark. FAULT: The Bar is closing. ACTION: Panic. SYMPTOM: You awaken to find your bed hard, cold and wet. You cannot see your bedroom. FAULT: You have spent the night in the gutter. ACTION: Check your watch to see if bars are open yet. If not, treat yourself to a lie-in.
If we
If we aren’t supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat? Lottery: A tax on people who are bad at math. A closed mouth gathers no feet. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance. A penny saved is ridiculous. All that glitters has a high refractive index. Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy. Anarchy is better than no government at all. Any small object when dropped will hide under a larger object. Death is life’s way of telling you you’ve been fired.
Kiss That Horse
A cowboy rides his horse to a saloon and kisses his horse on the butt before coming in and asking for a drink.
The bartender serves him and asks him why he did that.
“I have chapped lips.”
“Does manure help them heal?”
“No, but it keeps me from licking them.”
Thank You
Theresa was studying public speaking, when she was given an assignment to give
a short speech on sex. Here’s what she said: “It gives me great pleasure.
Thank You.”
HELLO
Man says to woman “all i want 4 christmas is u!!” woman says 2 man “Its easter and ur brother already asked me 2 lay some eggs!” BY OLI MANOOCHEHRI
How Many Bars
A man walks into the front door of a bar. He is obviously drunk, and staggers up to the bar, seats himself on a stool and, with a belch ,asks the bartender for a drink. The bartender politely informs the man that it appears that he has already had plenty to drink, he could not be served additional liquor at this bar, and could a cab be called for him? The drunk is briefly surprised, then softly scoffs, grumbles, climbs down off the bar stool and staggers out the front door.
A few minutes later, the same drunk stumbles in the SIDE door of the bar.He wobbles up to the bar and hollers for a drink. The bartender comes over and, still politely – but more firmly, refuses service to the man due to his inebriation, and again offers to call a cab. The drunk looks at the bartender for a moment angrily, curses, and shows himself out the side door, all the while grumbling and shaking his head.
A few minutes later, the same drunk bursts in through the BACK door of the bar. He plops himself up on a bar stool, gathers his wits and belligerently orders a drink. The bartender comes over and emphatically reminds the man that he is clearly drunk, will be served no drinks, and either a cab or the police will be called immediately.
The surprised drunk looks at the bartender, and in hopeless anguish, cries “MAAAN! How many bars do you work at?
Brother John
Brother John entered the ‘Monastery of Silence’ and the chief monk said, “Brother, this is a silent monastery, you are welcome here as long as you like, but you may not speak until I direct you to do so.”
Brother John lived in the monastery for 5 years before the chief monk said to him: “Brother John, you have been here 5 years now, you may speak two words.”
Brother John said, “Hard Bed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that” the chief monk said. “We will get you a better bed.”
After another 5 years, Brother John was called by the chief monk.
“You may say another two words Brother John.”
“Cold Food,” said Brother John, and the chief monk assured him that the food would be better in the future.
On his 15th anniversary at the monastery, the chief monk again called Brother John into his office.
“What are your two words you want to say today.”
“I Quit.” said Brother John.
“I’m not surprised,” said the chief monk. “You’ve done nothing but whine and complain since you got here.”
What is the oldest profession?
A physician, an engineer, and an attorney were discussing who among them belonged to the oldest of the three professions represented. The physician said, “Remember, on the sixth day God took a rib from Adam and fashioned Eve, making him the first surgeon. Therefore, medicine is the oldest profession.”The engineer replied, “But, before that, God created the heavens and earth from chaos and confusion, and thus he was the first engineer. Therefore, engineering is an older profession than medicine.”Then, the lawyer spoke up. “Yes,” he said, “But who do you think created all of the chaos and confusion?”
A conclusion is the place
A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.
You’ve got mail
A man was in his front yard mowing his front lawn when his
attractive blonde neighbor came out of the house and went
straight to the mail box.
She opened it, slammed it shut, and stormed back in the house. A
little while later she came out of her house and again went to
the mail box and opened it again, then slammed it shut again,
and back in the house she went.
As the man was getting ready to edge the lawn , here she came
out again, marched to the mail box, opened it and slammed it
closed harder than ever.
Puzzled by her actions the man asked her, ” Is something wrong?”
To which she replied, ” There certainly is! My stupid computer
keeps giving me a message saying, ” YOU’VE GOT MAIL!”