Collage 210               H u m o u r N e t                5 FEB 96

Nine days, two thousand miles and eleven ski areas later, I'm back
at the helm of HumourNet -- and armed with all *kinds* of material.

For example... some signs that were *actually* displayed at a few of
the ski areas in New Hampshire:

"Do not deface, damage, or throw objects from the [gondola] cars, as
they are all against New Hampshire state law."

Wow -- all of them? Sounds like some enterprising youth could score
himself a lifetime's supply of free lift tickets (or at least a
season pass) on the threat of filling in the local authorities on
this little transgression....

"Do Not Slide On Any Slopes Or Trails At This Area."

Huh? Why'd I buy a lift ticket? So I could ride the lift both ways?
(I really never *did* figure out what they were trying to say with
this one. I had considered asking the management, but I was afraid
I'd get an answer.)

"Snowboarders must have metal edges and restraint devices."

Hmmmm... seems to me that most snowboarders already *do* have metal
edges :-), but I'm all in favor of *restraint devices* for the little
tykes. (Okay, so I'm a dyed-in-the-wool skier.) Or, better yet,
perhaps a machine that clears them off the trail and deposits them
off to the side whenever they decide to sit their grungy little butts
down in the middle of the slope.... :-)

(I need to be nice here -- my teenage niece and nephews have made me
agree to try snowboarding. Full report later this month.)

Speaking of snowboarding, the 23 September 1995 edition (vol. 28,
no. 2) of _Ski_Racing_ magazine reported this tidbit:

"The Olympics come to Salt Lake City in 2002, and snowboarding...
will definitely be part of the first Games of the new century. The
site of the snowboarding events is Park City, one of the few areas
that still doesn't allow shredders on its slopes. A woman who
answered the phone at Park City, when told the caller wanted more
information about her resort hosting the Olympic alpine snowboard
events, responded: 'But we don't allow snowboarding here.'"

This story was headlined, "Ready or not ..."; it *should* have been
called, "Good Help is So Hard to Find." I have the feeling that this
woman will be still saying "But we don't allow..." as the team vans
are pulling up at Park City's promenade six years from now.

But seriously: Olympic SNOWBOARDING? Isn't that analogous to Olympic
*skateboarding*? C'mon, before you know it, we'll have Olympic surfing
and Olympic pinochle and Olympic porch sitting.

Ancient Greeks are turning over in their graves right now....

<situational assessment>

Okay, a hasty retreat here: There really isn't anything
fundamentally different between skiing and (ugh) snowboarding --
save that skiing requires more skill -- so there really isn't any
reason that snowboarding should *not* be an Olympic event. There's
just something about guys in big sweatshirts and baggy pants saying,
"Oh, bitchin' tube, dude!" when asked about the competition by MSNBC
correspondents. That's all.

MSNBC? Well, yes. After all, there has to be a reason (besides
stupidity) that NBC is working so hard to espouse the virtues (such
as they are) of the Windoze '95 almost-operating system. Certainly,
it *couldn't* have anything to do with the Billy Bucks that have
been helping boost the BC's bottom line, could it?

Well, it could. And then, it just might be your typical journalistic
ignorance of all that is technical. Of course, that never stayed a
journalist from the path of reporting -- just as implementing
features of the Mac operating system hasn't kept Microsoft from
announcing "new" products. It's a marriage made in copyright court.

And, recent evidence shows, it all got started in summer camp. Liz
(who was the first to submit this piece) brings us "Billy's Letters,"
a blow-by-blow on how BillyWorld came to be. (This is one of those
pieces that needs to be run simply because it's been gathering dust
for so long.)

"From the Book of Microsoft" comes to us from Bill (a different Bill,
I think), and the "Microsoft Positioning System" piece (another one
that desperately needed to go out) is provided c/o Brian.

Many thanks to the contributors, and to everyone who sent me
material while I was away. (Oh, and for those of you who are
sensitive about your platform-selection abilities, this Collage
pretty well clears the MS-humor buffer.)

Enjoy!

- Vince Sabio
  HumourNet Moderator
  HumourNet@telephonet.com
____________________________________________________________________
          Opener (above) Copyright 1996 by Vincent Sabio
  Permission is hereby granted to forward or post this "Collage";
  please observe the guidelines stated at the end of the message.
____________________________________________________________________

SUBJ: Billy's Letters

The following appeared in a computer magazine in Mr. Dvorak's column:

Dear Mr. Dvorak:

Ann Landers wouldn't print this. I have nowhere else to turn. I have
to get the word out. Warn other parents. I must be rambling on. Let me
try and explain. It's about my son, Billy. He's always been a good,
normal ten year old boy. Well, last spring we sat down after dinner to
select a summer camp for Billy. We sorted through the camp brochures.
There were the usual camps with swimming, canoeing, games, singing by
the campfire --you know. There were sports camps and specialty camps
for weight reduction, music, military camps and camps that specialized
in Tibetan knot tying. I tried to talk him into Camp Winnepoopoo--it's
where he went last year. (He made an adorable picture out of painted
pinto beans and macaroni.) Billy would have none of it. Billy pulled a
brochure out of his pocket. It was for a COMPUTER CAMP! We should have
put our foot down right there, if only we had known. He left three
weeks ago. I don't know what's happened. He's changed. I can't explain
it. See for yourself. These are some of my little Billy's letters:

----------------------------
Dear Mom,
The kids are dorky nerds. The food stinks. The computers are the only
good part. We're learning how to program. Late at night is the best
time to program, so they let us stay up.
Love, Billy.

Dear Mom,
Camp is O.K. Last night we had pizza in the middle of the night. We
all get to choose what we want to drink. I drink Classic Coke. By the
way, can you make Szechuan food? I'm getting used to it now. Gotta go,
it's time for the flowchart class.
Love, Billy.
P.S. This is written on a word processor. Pretty swell, huh? It's
spellchecked too.

Dear Mom,
Don't worry. We do regular camp stuff. We told ghost stories by the
glow of the green computer screens. It was real neat. I don't have
much of a tan 'cause we don't go outside very often. You can't see the
computer screen in the sunlight anyway. That wimp camp I went to last
year fed us weird food too. Lay off, Mom. I'm okay, really.
Love, Billy.

Dear Mom,
I'm fine. I'm sleeping enough. I'm eating enough. This is the best
camp ever. We scared the counselor with some phony worm code. It was
real funny. He got mad and yelled. Frederick says it's okay. Can you
send more money? I spent mine on a pocket protector and a box of blank
diskettes. I've got to chip in on the phone bill. Did you know that
you can talk to people on a computer? Give my regards to Dad.
Love, Billy.

Dear Mother,
Forget the money for the telephone. We've got a way to not pay. Sorry
I haven't written. I've been learning a lot. I'm real good at getting
onto any computer in the country. It's really easy! I got into the
university's in less than fifteen minutes. Frederick did it in five,
he's going to show me how. Frederick is my bunk partner. He's really
smart. He says that I shouldn't call myself Billy anymore. So, I'm
not.
Signed, William.

Dear Mother,
How nice of you to come up on Parents Day. Why'd you get so upset? I
haven't gained that much weight. The glasses aren't real. Everybody
wears them. I was trying to fit in. Believe me, the tape on them is
cool. I thought that you'd be proud of my program. After all, I've
made some money on it. A publisher is sending a check for $30,000.
Anyway, I've paid for the next six weeks of camp. I won't be home
until late August.
Regards, William.

Mother,
Stop treating me like a child. True --physically I am only ten years
old. It was silly of you to try to kidnap me. Do not try again.
Remember, I can make your life miserable (i.e.--the bank, credit
bureau, and government computers). I am not kidding. O.K.? I won't
write again and this is your only warning. The emotions of this
interpersonal communication drain me.
Sincerely, William.
----------------------------

See what I mean? It's been two weeks since I've heard from my little
boy. What can I do, Mr.Dvorak? I know that it's probably too late to
save my little Billy. But, if by printing these letters you can save
JUST ONE CHILD from a life of programming, please, I beg of you to do
so.

Thank you very much.
Mary Gates
Concerned Parent

========================[ H U M O U R N E T ]=======================

SUBJ: From the Book of Microsoft
by Scott L. Dickenshied

And LO! The Lord of the OS did come down among His sheep and He did
sayeth, "Thou shalt pay Bill Gates, and he will delivereth unto you
my product.

"I am your Win95, your GUI. Thou shalt not have false GUI's on
machines before me."

And the Lord said, "16-bit applications are evil! I am sorry I ever
created them. I shall destroy them all and start over. Thou shalt
buy new computers."

And the prophet Intel came forward and said, "But Lord, what about
backward compatibility? What about the tribes of 8086 and 80286 and
80386?"

And lo, the Lord became angry and said, "Compatibility is irrelevant.
You will be assimilated."

And the consumers gathered around Bill Gates and the Tower of
Microsoft, and they asked, "Prophet, how much must we spend on
salvation? Seven times our investment?"

And Bill Gates turned to the crowd and said unto them, "Nay,
consumers, not seven but seventy times seven times your investment.
Only then shall you be saved."

And the consumers did as they were told. But the product did not
work, and they grew angry, and they cried out to the Lord, "Lord, we
have done as you asked, but the product does not work! Our
machines, they run slow! Our applications, they do not run."

And the Lord said unto them, "I tell you this, it is easier for
Alice Cooper to enter the gates of heaven than for a Pentium to run
Windows95."

And as the masses came forward, I saw inscribed upon their heads
W95, the number of the Bill.

And the Prophet Bill, for that is who it must have been, he raised
his right hand, and broke the first seal, saying, "Behold, the seal
of Microsoft. By the breaking of this seal you are bound unto
whatever the contract within may say."

And as the seal was broken, all the great empires around the world
were set upon with famine and floods and swarms of bugs like never
seen before and great anguish befell them all.

And lo, the Prophet Bill held up the scroll and said, "Behold, the
second seal! I shall not break it today, but rather I shall break
it soon, like perhaps next week, or maybe the week thereafter. Thou
shall wait expectantly for its breaking, and shall not produce any
work until that time shall come."

========================[ H U M O U R N E T ]=======================

SUBJ: Microsoft Positioning System (MPS)

A pilot is flying his helicopter, loaded with very rich, very
important clients taking an airborne tour of Washington State. After
a few hours of breathtaking scenery, the pilot notifies the
passengers that they are low on fuel and will have to return to the
airstrip very soon.

Almost immediately, the helicopter runs into fog so thick that the
passengers cannot even see out the windows. The pilot soon gets
lost amidst the clouds and begins to wander the skies, looking for
his home airport.

After about ten minutes, the "low fuel" light begins to flash,
worrying the tense passengers even more. The pilot, afraid of
having to ditch his only helicopter, searches the plain whiteness
even harder for any sign of his airport. Suddenly ... he sees a
skyscraper looming in the mist.

He hovers the helicopter outside one of the skyscraper's windows.
Rolling down his window, he asks an office worker, "Where am I?" to
which the worker replies, "You are in a helicopter."

The pilot smiles, banks left, and drops down in the middle of
Seattle Airport just as his helicopter runs out of fuel.

"How did you do it?" asks his co-pilot.

"Simple. The answer provided by the office worker was entirely
correct, but totally useless ... so I knew I was at the Microsoft
Tech Support Office. From there, finding the airport is easy!"

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