|Proverbs, aphorisms, quotations (English)||by Linux fortune|
|A traveling salesman was driving past a farm when he saw a pig with three|
wooden legs executing a magnificent series of backflips and cartwheels.
Intrigued, he drove up to the farmhouse, where he found an old farmer
sitting in the yard watching the pig.
"That's quite a pig you have there, sir" said the salesman.
"Sure is, son," the farmer replied. "Why, two years ago, my daughter
was swimming in the lake and bumped her head and damned near drowned, but that
pig swam out and dragged her back to shore."
"Amazing!" the salesman exlaimed.
"And that's not the only thing. Last fall I was cuttin' wood up on
the north forty when a tree fell on me. Pinned me to the ground, it did.
That pig run up and wiggled underneath that tree and lifted it off of me.
Saved my life."
"Fantastic! the salesman said. But tell me, how come the pig has
three wooden legs?"
The farmer stared at the newcomer in amazement. "Mister, when you
got an amazin' pig like that, you don't eat him all at once."
|Dave Finton gazes into his crystal ball...|
January 2099: Rob Malda Finally Gets His Damned Nano-Technology
The Linux hacker community finally breathed a collective sigh of relief
when it was announced that Rob Malda finally got his damned
"It's about time!" exclaimed one Dothead. "He been going on about that
crap since god-knows-when. Now that he's got that and those wearable
computers, maybe we can read about something interesting on Slashdot!"
Observers were skeptical, however. Already the now-immortal Rob Malda
nano-cyborg (who reportedly changed his name to "18 of 49, tertiary
adjunct of something-or-other") has picked up a few new causes to shout
about to the high heavens until everyone's ears start bleeding. In one
Slashdot article, Malda writes "Here's an article about the potential of
large greyish high-tech mile-wide cubes flying through space, all
controlled by a collective mind set upon intergalactic conquest.
Personally, I can't wait. Yum."
|Brief History Of Linux (#18)|
There are lies, damned lies, and Microsoft brochures
Even from the very first day, the Microsoft Marketing Department was at
full throttle. Vaporware has always been their weapon of choice. Back when
MS-DOS 1.25 was released to OEMs, Microsoft handed out brochures touting
some of the features to be included in future versions, including:
Xenix-compatible pipes, process forks, multitasking, graphics and cursor
positioning, and multi-user support.
The brochure also stated, "MS-DOS has no practical limit on disk size.
MS-DOS uses 4-byte Xenix compatible pointers for file and disk capacity up
to 4 gigabytes." We would like to emphasize in true Dave Barry fashion
that we are not making this up.
Big vaporous plans were also in store for Microsoft's "Apple Killer"
graphical interface. In 1983 Microsoft innovated a new marketing ploy --
the rigged "smoke-and-mirrors" demo -- to showcase the "overlapping
windows" and "multitasking" features of Interface Manager, the predecessor
to Windows. These features never made it into Windows 1.0 -- which,
incidentally, was released 1.5 years behind schedule.
|Clippit Charged With Attempted Murder |
Microsoft's Dancing Paper Clip turned violent last week and nearly killed
a university student testing a new Windows-based human-computer interface.
The victim is expected to make a full recovery, although psychiatrists
warn that the incident may scar him emotionally for life. "You can bet
this kid won't be using Windows or Office ever again," said one shrink.
The victim had been alpha-testing CHUG (Computer-Human Unencumbered
Groupware), a new interface in which the user controls the computer with
force-feedback gloves and voice activation.
"I was trying to write a term paper in Word," he said from his hospital
bed. "But then that damned Dancing Paper Clip came up and started annoying
me. I gave it the middle finger. It reacted by deleting my document, at
which point I screamed at it and threatened to pull the power cord. I
didn't get a chance; the force-feedback gloves started choking me."
"We told Clippit it had the right to remain silent, and so on," said a
campus police officer. "The paperclip responded, 'Hi, I'm Clippit, the
Office Assistant. Would you like to create a letter?' I said, 'Look here,
Mr. Paperclip. You're being charged with attempted murder.' At that point
the computer bluescreened."
|A copy of the universe is not what is required of art; one of the damned|
things is ample.
-- Rebecca West
|<muggles> i'm trying to convince some netcom admins i know to convert|
to Debian from RH, netgod, but they are DAMN stubborn
<muggles> why RH users so damned hard headed?
<Espy> it's the hat
|* Knghtbrd pelts wichert with NERF darts|
* wichert notes there are no ICBM nerfs yet and ignores kngtbrd
<Knghtbrd> wichert - just wait, after seeing the NERF gatling guns, ICBMs
are not far off (just pump the damned thing for an hour or two
|<knghtbrd> add a GF2/3, a sizable hard drive, and a 15" flat panel and|
you've got a pretty damned portable machine.
<Coderjoe> a GeForce Two-Thirds?
<knghtbrd> Coderjoe: yes, a GeForce two-thirds, ie, any card from ATI.
|Why, when no honest man will deny in private that every ultimate problem is|
wrapped in the profoundest mystery, do honest men proclaim in pulpits
that unhesitating certainty is the duty of the most foolish and ignorant?
Is it not a spectacle to make the angels laugh? We are a company of
ignorant beings, feeling our way through mists and darkness, learning only
be incessantly repeated blunders, obtaining a glimmering of truth by
falling into every conceivable error, dimly discerning light enough for
our daily needs, but hopelessly differing whenever we attempt to describe
the ultimate origin or end of our paths; and yet, when one of us ventures
to declare that we don't know the map of the universe as well as the map
of our infintesimal parish, he is hooted, reviled, and perhaps told that
he will be damned to all eternity for his faithlessness...
- Leslie Stephen, "An agnostic's Apology", Fortnightly Review, 1876
|I really hate this damned machine|
I wish that they would sell it.
It never does quite what I want
But only what I tell it.
|"Lines that are parallel meet at Infinity!"|
Euclid repeatedly, heatedly, urged.
Until he died, and so reached that vicinity:
in it he found that the damned things diverged.
-- Piet Hein
|Picking up the pieces of my sweet shattered dream,|
I wonder how the old folks are tonight,
Her name was Ann, and I'll be damned if I recall her face,
She left me not knowing what to do.
Carefree Highway, let me slip away on you,
Carefree Highway, you seen better days,
The morning after blues, from my head down to my shoes,
Carefree Highway, let me slip away, slip away, on you...
Turning back the pages to the times I love best,
I wonder if she'll ever do the same,
Now the thing that I call livin' is just bein' satisfied,
With knowing I got noone left to blame.
Carefree Highway, I got to see you, my old flame...
Searching through the fragments of my dream shattered sleep,
I wonder if the years have closed her mind,
I guess it must be wanderlust or tryin' to get free,
From the good old faithful feelin' we once knew.
-- Gordon Lightfoot, "Carefree Highway"
|To stand and be still,|
At the Birkenhead drill,
Is a damned tough bullet to chew.
-- Rudyard Kipling
|Writers who use a computer swear to its liberating power in tones that bear|
witness to the apocalyptic power of a new divinity. Their conviction results
from something deeper than mere gratitude for the computer's conveniences.
Every new medium of writing brings about new intensities of religious belief
and new schisms among believers. In the 16th century the printed book helped
make possible the split between Catholics and Protestants. In the 20th
century this history of tragedy and triumph is repeating itself as a farce.
Those who worship the Apple computer and those who put their faith in the IBM
PC are equally convinced that the other camp is damned or deluded. Each cult
holds in contempt the rituals and the laws of the other. Each thinks that it
is itself the one hope for salvation.
-- Edward Mendelson, "The New Republic", February 22, 1988