Kipling & FootballThe Original VirusThe Kursk DisasterUS Government Policy: Snake AttackDownload Sense Of HumourRailCrack Announces National Lottery BidWaking Up - Near MissSmithsonian LetterChristmas in FloridaGo Granny Go
Kipling & Football
The Original Virus
The Kursk Disaster
US Government Policy: Snake Attack
Download Sense Of Humour
RailCrack Announces National Lottery Bid
Waking Up - Near Miss
Smithsonian Letter
Christmas in Florida
Go Granny Go
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Big Joke List
If you can raise your head when all around are dropping theirs
Because you lost nil-two,
If you ignore the times they sold a striker to fund the cost
Of building a new loo.
If you can shout and not give up that shouting,
Or when the pies are cold still eat those pies,
Or being ridiculed don't give way to pouting,
Or in the FA Cup don't pray for byes.
If you can take your every hard earned shilling
And pay to watch another dismal loss,
But still you always need your weekly filling
For one day you may see a decent cross.
If you can join the board but keep your virtue,
Or in the crowd don't think out loud too much,
If neither hope nor dark despair desert you,
If play offs are a straw to which you clutch.
If you describe another nil-nil fixture,
As ninty minutes worth of non stop fun,
Yours is a world with tunnel vision in it,
But what is more you'll be a fan my son.
Apologies to Rudyard Kipling.
Joe Stock - Townhill, Swansea.
Computer viruses are a hot topic these days--apparently, even in this very newsgroup, but I suspect that few people are aware of the first documented "artificial" virus, which dates back all the way to the American Civil War!
In order to tell you the story of this interesting virus, I need to set the scene. Amazingly, although we tend to think that our era of technological expansion and information overload is unprecedented and revolutionary, in many ways the Civil War era was very similar. Think of it this way: just shortly before the Civil War, the country had become "wired" for the first time. Someone in Charleston could send a message to someone in New York City instantaneously. All of a sudden, individuals and organizations alike rushed to take advantage of this incredible opportunity, transforming societey as they did so. The Associated Press, for instance, was a guild of wired journalists who sent "content" across the lines for downloading by newspapers.
Of course, then, as now, the information elite ruled the country. Just as today, comparatively few people know how to maintain websites, manipulate the Internet, or control the flow of information, the same could be said of the mid-19th century. One couldn't just "talk" into the telegraph; one had to, in effect, learn a whole new language, and had to be able to program that language into devices that could translate it into what were essentially bits of information and send them across the ether.
The clique that arose who mastered the new technology were given a nickname, known as "tappers," because of their skill on a telegraph key. The best tappers could tap their way into any telegraph network. The public image of the tapper was a mixture of awe and contempt. In a famous editorial in the 1850s, New York newspaper editor Horace Greeley described the tapper:
"Imagine these poor creatures, forswearing all other human contact, preferring instead to remain ensconced in their dark habitats, interacting only with others of their kind. Tapping on their keys with a concentration unmatched by the most steely-eyed sharpshooter, they exchange messages with their fellows in incomprehensible codes at which the rest of humanity can only wonder. Social skills are ingredients that they possess only in minute amounts; a tapper would more easily converse with a person of the feminine persuasion over the wires than in person, where his paucity of social skills, combined with his pasty complexion, thick glasses, and awkward manner, might make the poor maiden bolt like a horse stung by a wasp. Yet these creatures, who lurk behind our walls and in our cellars, seem to run the nation these days. Could Wall Street ever go back to the days before the wire? Could the press? Could the presidency? We are all somehow dependent on these technocrats, we are all somehow at the risk of these ashen, pimply, goggle-eyed Athenes. What does this portend for our Republic?"
The most famous tapper was perhaps not technically a tapper at all, but rather the person who rose on their shoulders to become the first wired millionaire in America, the notorious William Postern. Born in 1821, Postern was at first simply an unnoticed apprentice of Samuel Morse (1791-1872), the person who patented the telegraph and devised the code that bore his name. But when Morse turned down an offer from World Industrial Devices (WID) to devise a new telegraph code for their extensive telegraph system, Postern jumped at the chance to do so. Taking an existing code, known as Coded Panoptic Method (CPM), he modified it slightly and called it Data Orthography Standards (DOS). It was an awkward system; for instance, it was designed for the transmission of 640 keystrokes [or "k"] per hour, but telegraphy technology soon surpassed that, leading to the awkward 640k limit that had to be bypassed by frustrating technical means. However, it nevertheless flourished, and soon Postern had an essential monopoly on telegraphy code in the United States. He became fantastically wealthy and built an extravagant mansion along the Connecticut River in the area that became known as "Copper Valley," as other wire millionaires followed suit.
However, as it often does, immense wealth and power brings unwelcome attention. Many people grumbled that William Postern was too rich, that he was too powerful, that he was more powerful than James Buchanan, President of the United States. It didn't help matters any that New England was dominated by Republicans who disliked William Postern's pro-Southern Democratic politics. Postern, a man with outspoken opinions, had a vision of opening immense factories to church out telegraphy code using slave labor, or "teleserfs." Whether his vision was practical or not, Postern thus supported "Southern institutions" which were increasingly in disfavor in the North.
Thus when Abraham Lincoln managed to eke out a win in the presidential election of 1860, and South Carolina and several other southern states seceded in response, Wililam Postern was indeed in a bind. It was not too long before the attention of the Republican administration was turned on Postern. Edward Bates, Lincoln's attorney general, was not particularly hostile to Postern, but the same could not be said for William Seward, Lincoln's aggressive secretary of state, who claimed that he could have people arrested at the "tinkle of a bell."
Seward claimed that Postern's control of the "telegraphy trust" was too powerful, that it jeopardized the security of the fractured nation, and that the trust had to be broken up. In no uncertain terms, Seward claimed that once the writ of habeas corpus was suspended, he would take rapid action to arrest William Postern for alleged Southern sympathies and break up his trust, known popularly as the 'Short Wire' trust.
William Postern knew that he was done for. He made arrangements to put his great wealth in the control of trusted friends, and planned to flee with his wife and family to Europe, where he would wait out the war, come what may. However, Postern burned with resentment at the high-handed methods of Seward and the Lincoln administration, and wanted to give them a parting shot that they would never forget. With the same intensity of purpose that he applied to demolishing business rivals such as Helio Systems and Wire Scape, he applied himself to seeking revenge on the Union.
Eventually his devilish efforts bore fruit. Postern had long known that the telegraphy system had certain weaknesses. One of these was the notorious "long dash" pulse. Most telegraphy codes are formed of a series of dots and dashes, which actually are simply print representations of electrical pulses sent by tappers when operating their telegraph keys. The longer the key is in electrical contact, the longer the pulse sent. Thus a quick tap produces a "dot," while a longer rest on the key produces a "dash." However, if a tapper happened to rest his finger *too* long on the telegraphy key, producing a "long dash," the resulting buildup of electrical current could actually wreak havoc on the wires, causing random pulses of current to shoot through the network, destroying the information content of all messages that people attempted to transmit through the wires (thus the origin of the word "haywire").
Naturally, tappers avoided creating circumstances whereby they might produce a "long dash." But Postern felt he had discovered a way around that. What if, perhaps, he imbedded a "long dash" *within* a perfectly normal message? What if that message were so intriguing, so fascinating, that tappers sending the message down the wire would be so focusing their attention on the message that they would not notice the dangerous "long dash" imbedded within? Moreover, what if the message were so titillating that they would want to send that message to all their tapper friends--each time unwittingly adding a "long dash" and building up the dangerous electrical current on the wires? The tappers might, entirely unknowingly, take down the whole telegraph system of the United States!
So Postern composed his message. He addressed it to Abraham Lincoln, but gave as the addressor none other than Rose Greenhow, the "Wild Rose" of Civil War fame. Greenhow, the notorious secessionist and Washington personality, was a woman of strong opinions and striking beauty. Postern, writing as Greenhow, began the message, "I love you, too;" thus the message has come down in history as the I Love You Too Virus. The rest of the message was a passionate description of Greenhow's erotic love for Abraham Lincoln, whom she had known years earlier when he was a lonely Congressman in Washington. Postern's imagination ran wild; the fictional missive contained copious detail, much of it anatomical in nature, as well as passionate descriptions of more than one facetious coupling. When finished, Postern sent the message out on the wire, with instructions to deliver it to the recipient.
On the wire, however, it took on a life of its own, exactly as Postern had intended. Every sex-starved tapper who downloaded the wire pornography was thunderstruck. They had never seen anything like this before. Almost as if controlled by one mind, they rushed to copy the message and send it back across the wires to all of their tapper friends. Of course, with each sending and resending of the message, the dangerous imbedded "long dash" was adding more and more capricious current to the wire.
By the next morning, the damage had been done. Not only were most telegraph wires out of commission across the country, but hundreds of tappers had suffered serious third degree burns from telegraphy equipment explosions, and some of the burns were on very peculiar parts of their body. Meanwhile, Postern himself was on the good ship Aylbeesynnia on his way to Le Havre.
The consequences of the virus, of course, were immense. Rose Greenhow was immediately arrested as a Confederate spy, even though she was entirely ignorant of the virus sent in her name. Mary Todd Lincoln was so caught up in jealousy that it is said by some she became deranged. And the virus led to two young Union Signal Corps officers and ex-tappers, Julius Norton and Robert McAfee, becoming national heroes for finding a way to channel the excess current out of the telegraph wires, allowing them to become usable again.
Postern's "Short Wire" trust was indeed broken up, and Postern himself never returned to the United States. He lived in exile on the French Riviera for the rest of his long life, dying only in 1917, reportedly from a laughing fit brought on from unknown reasons. Interestingly, the date of his death coincides neatly with the release of the famed "Zimmerman Telegram." Perhaps the real story is still in the wires somewhere, waiting to come out.....
Some new information has come to light over the Kursk disaster. For those with short attention spans, the Kursk was the submarine that blew up and sank in the Arctic Ocean killing all 118 on board. The Russians tried to blame the incident on a collision with an unidentified object. However, sonar tapes which recorded the blasts (a small one at first, then a much larger one two minutes later) cast doubt on these claims. A whistle blower within the Russian military has leaked that the crew of the Kursk was testing a new type of torpedo when the accident occured. It seemed very likely that the test didn't go quite as planned.
While rescue efforts to save the survivors of the Kursk failed, salvage crews were able to recover a 'Black Box' from the submarine which contained detailed accounts of the events leading up to the explosion. As luck would have it, we got a copy of those tapes.
It turns out that the submarine crew was trying to load Microsoft Windows on their fire control computer. Their intent was to replace the aging CP/M operating system with the flashier Windows OS. Apparently, the Russians didn't know about the legendary stability problems exhibited by Windows. The log tapes make this painfully obvious:
Captain: Is the new fire control Windows OS installed yet Comrade?
Seaman: Almost Sir. We just need to finish filling out the registration card.
Captain: Excellent. Soon we will be able to point and click our enemies into oblivion.
[evil laughter in background]
Seaman: Comrade Captain! It is booting! Look, it says 'Preparing to run Windows for the first time'.
[long pause]
Seaman: Arrgh! Sir, it wants me to reboot again. That makes the 27th time.
Captain: Hmmm. This is not encouraging. Go ahead and reboot again.
Seaman: Aye Sir.
[another long pause]
Seaman: Captain, it is up again. It says it found new hardware ... A CD-ROM drive and that it needs drivers.
Captain: Where are the drivers?
Seaman: On the CD-ROM.
Captain: You are joking, no?
Seaman: No Sir.
Captain: Reboot the damn thing again. I am starting not to like this Windows.
[another long pause]
Seaman: Sir! It is back! It says it found the Gorby2000 Torpedo and is looking for the device drivers. Do we have a driver disk?
Captain: I do not think so.
Seaman: I will tell it to use the default drivers.
[another long pause]
Seaman: Crap. It wants to reboot again.
Captain: How many times are we going to reboot today? This is taking forever. Our hull is going to rust out before this works.
[another long pause]
Seaman: Sir! It is up and this time it is not asking for anything!
Captain: Really? No device drivers? No registration cards? No user profiles?
Seaman: No Sir. I think it is ready.
Captain: Good work comrade. Now click on the fire control icon and let us see how this works.
Seaman: Clicking now, Sir.
[another long pause]
Captain: Why does the fire control screen have a dancing paper clip on it?
Seaman: I have no idea Sir.
Captain: Hmmm, well try clicking on the menu.
Seaman: Aye Sir. Let us see; Open E-mail, Spam a friend, Mail a Virus, Fire a Torpedo...
Captain: We will spam a friend later. Let us fire a torpedo.
Seaman: Aye Sir.
[another long pause]
Seaman: It is asking us to load the torpedo and to click when ready.
Captain: Torpedo room, load a torpedo in tube number 1!
[intercom:] This is the Torpedo room. The torpedo is loaded Sir.
Captain: Click on the continue button.
Seaman: Aye Sir.
[another long pause]
Seaman: It is asking for a target Sir.
Captain: Hmmm, target the Rainbow Warrior.
Seaman: Aye Sir. Damn! It says the torpedo is low on ink.
Captain: Click ignore. We will get some ink when we return to base.
Seaman: Aye Sir. We are ready to fire.
Captain: Very good. You may fire when ready comrade.
Seaman: Firing torpedo Sir.
[another really long pause]
Captain: Well?
Seaman: I am trying Sir. Nothing is happening. Wait a minute....
[a loud explosion is heard in the background followed by screaming on intercom]
Captain: WTF was that?!?!?
Seaman: Captain! A new screen has appeared! Outlook Express Fire Control has performed an illegal operation and will be shut down. Click 'OK' to continue.
Seaman: Oh my God! The paper clip has died! What should I do?
Captain: Shut it down! Shut it down!
Seaman: It is not responding Sir!
Captain: Try 'CTRL-ALT-DELETE'!
Seaman: Aye Sir. We are in luck! The task manager is still operating. I am instructing the task manager to shut down Outlook Fire Control.
[another long pause]
Seaman: The task manager says that Outlook Fire Control is not responding.
Captain: Well no shit. Tell it to 'end task'.
Seaman: Nothing is happening Sir.
Captain: Try 'CTRL-ALT-DELETE' again.
Seaman: Aye Sir.
[sounds of frantic pecking on keyboard.]
Seaman: Oooh! What a pretty blue screen!
Captain: Holy Shit! Not the blue screen of dea....
[ KABLAM! A really big explosion. More screaming and the sound of rushing water.]
The tape ends at this point.
During the week long rescue effort, divers reported hearing tapping in the form of morse code coming from survivors inside the damaged sub. The rescuers couldn't understand why a group of men would spend the last of their strength tapping out "windows sucks" in morse code. The tapes of the last moments of the Kursk may offer some insight into this.
Where do you want to go today?
The following is from the US Government Peace Corps Manual for its volunteers who work in the Amazon Jungle. It tells what to do in case you are attacked by an anaconda. Now an anaconda is the largest snake in the world. It is a relative of the boa constrictor, it grows to thirty-five feet in length and weighs between three and four hundred pounds at the maximum. This is what the manual said:
Railway operator RailCrack has today announced a surprise late bid to run the national lottery. "We've been running a f***ing lottery on the rail network for years", said Ronnie Corbett, RailCrack's Chief Executive, "so this is a natural progression".
|
Under the proposals, a player will buy a "season ticket" to make five return journeys a week at peak times. "You nominate timetabled trains for each day, and if all ten come in on time and in one piece you win the jackpot", he said, "a reserved seat in first class for the rest of your life, or a year, whichever is shorter". Corbett confirmed that RailCrack were going to be giving over a significant amount of money to good causes: ".. things like leaves on the line, floods and vandalism - These are good causes that we can blame on other people, as opposed to bad causes like dodgy track or faulty signalling, which we're in danger of being held responsible for ourselves". |
RailCrack is the main player in the Crashalot consortium formed for the franchise bid. Other backers include US software giant MicroShaft who promise to put in new machines that make buying a ticket a lottery in itself. Crashalot are also planning a special "Rollover" game, where players pick the next scheduled train service they think will roll over.
BRAIN SYSTEM: Attention. Alert registered.
CENTRAL: Alert? Number One, report!
NUMBER ONE: Sir! We're picking up loud music.
CENTRAL: Music? We were just asleep!
NUMBER ONE: Yes sir. Ears report it's "The Last Train to Clarksville."
CENTRAL: Good lord, are we being tortured?
NUMBER ONE: Sir, Eyes are functional and request instruction.
CENTRAL: Tell them to open up and try to find out what is going on.
NUMBER ONE: Scope! Okay, I see darkness... darkness... Wait, there's a woman sleeping there.
CENTRAL: A woman?
NUMBER ONE: Sir, Libido Station wants to know if it is Anna Kournikova.
CENTRAL: Forget about Libido. What can you tell me?
NUMBER ONE: Sir, Memory reports a near perfect match to "wife," sir.
CENTRAL: Well of course. Keep looking.
NUMBER ONE: Sir, urgent report from Stomach on the horn, do you want to take it?
CENTRAL: Stomach, what's going on?
STOMACH: Sir, we've taken a hit, it... it looks bad, sir.
CENTRAL: Get hold of yourself, man!
STOMACH: Yessir. It looks like a burrito, sir. It exploded at about 1900 hours and we've been out of action ever since. I don't... I don't know if she can take much more, Captain.
CENTRAL: Stomach! Now you listen to me, son. We're all counting on you up here. Don't give up now. Remember the chilli of '94? We made it through that, we can make it through anything.
STOMACH: Yessir. You can count on me, sir.
CENTRAL: Good man.
NUMBER ONE: Sir, I've got a visual on the clock!
CENTRAL: Tell me, Number One.
NUMBER ONE: Oh my God, sir. It's horrible.
CENTRAL: Dammit sailor, get a grip on yourself!
NUMBER ONE: It's... It's six thirty, sir. In the morning.
CENTRAL: In the morning? Not again. I thought... I thought that we'd had the worst of it yesterday.
SYSTEM: Sixty seconds to consciousness.
CENTRAL: This is madness. Do you know what's going to happen if we go conscious now, this early?
NUMBER ONE: Work, sir?
CENTRAL: That's right, Number One. It'll be work, all right. I don't... I don't know if I can live through that hell again.
SYSTEM: Fifty seconds to consciousness.
NUMBER ONE: Sir? Do you have orders?
CENTRAL: Hmmm?
NUMBER ONE: Orders, sir. Do you have orders for us?
CENTRAL: Orders? Orders, Number One? Damn right there are orders! Let's get ourselves moving.
NUMBER ONE: Aye aye, sir!
SYSTEM: Forty seconds to consciousness.
CENTRAL: Shut that damn thing off, I'm trying to think. Get our remote stations on line. I want a Search and Acquire on anything that feels like a snooze button. Tell them to MOVE. Bladder!
BLADDER: Yes sir?
CENTRAL: How are you holding?
BLADDER: All systems are flush and ready, sir. We can go another three hours, easy.
CENTRAL: Very well, Bladder. Number One, get me Nose on the horn.
NOSE: Sir, Nose reporting, sir!
CENTRAL: Good to hear from you, Nose. How are you doing up there?
NOSE: Sir, ah, we registered cat breath about twenty minutes ago, but it was pretty faint and I didn't think...
CENTRAL: Steady on, nose. You were right not to trigger an alert.
NOSE: Thank you, sir.
CENTRAL: Nose, I'm afraid I have bad news for you, son. We took a burrito last night.
NOSE: Oh no, sir, not again!
CENTRAL: I said steady! You're going to have to hold on, you hear me? Hold on,and it will pass. I don't want ANYTHING getting through to consciousness.
NOSE: Yes sir. I'll try, sir.
CENTRAL: That's the spirit. Stomach!
STOMACH: Sir?
CENTRAL: How are you doing down there?
STOMACH: We've been breached, Captain. The whole alimentary is in flames. I'm trying to keep it contained, but I can't promise anything.
CENTRAL: Damn!
NUMBER ONE: Sir, Libido Station reports it is ready for battle!
CENTRAL: Tell Libido to calm down, I'll call him when I need him. Any report from our search party?
NUMBER ONE: Sir, Fingers report they located and toppled a glass of water, a pair of glasses, and a box of Kleenex. No luck on the snooze, sir.
CENTRAL: Number One, I don't mind telling you, if we don't get this under control we're going to lose her.
NUMBER ONE: Yes sir. Sir, Libido requests positive verification that the woman sleeping next to us is not Anna Kournikova.
CENTRAL: For crying out loud.
NUMBER ONE: Sir, Ears reports the song is over. It's going to commercial, sir.
CENTRAL: How much time on the system clock?
NUMBER ONE: Ten seconds to consciousness, sir. We've lost smile control in the lower facial and we're developing a frown.
CENTRAL: Brace yourself, Number One. I'm afraid we've had it.
NUMBER ONE: Sir! Fingers has located target. Repeat, Fingers is on target!
CENTRAL: Fire!
NUMBER ONE: Hit! Sir, direct hit!
CENTRAL: Ears!
NUMBER ONE: It's gone, Captain! Ears reports the music is gone!
CENTRAL: We've done it!
SYSTEM: Consciousness cancelled.
NUMBER ONE: Sir, all systems are ready for sleep mode. Repeat, sleep mode now ready.
CENTRAL: Trigger sleep mode NOW.
NUMBER ONE: Sleep mode triggered, aye aye, sir.
CENTRAL: Shut Eyes.
NUMBER ONE: Eyes off, sir. Frown relaxed, smile restored.
CENTRAL: By golly, that was a close one.
NUMBER ONE: Yessir. Sir, Dream Team requests selection. Libido asking for something naked, sir.
CENTRAL: Request denied. Let's roll the one where we show up for church wearing only our underwear, I like that one.
NUMBER ONE: Roger that, sir. Dream selection completed and tape is rolling, sir.
CENTRAL: Good work, Number One. You take the helm.
NUMBER ONE: Aye aye, sir
Letter from Smithsonian Institute to guy who digs up things in his back yard and sends them in to the Smithsonian
Paleoanthropology Division
Smithsonian Institute
207 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20078
Dear Sir:
Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labelled "211 D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post. Hominid skull." We have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination, and regret to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents "conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man in Charleston County two million years ago." Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie doll, of the variety one of our staff, who has small children, believes to be the "Malibu Barbie". It is evident that you have given a great deal of thought to the analysis of this specimen, and you may be quite certain that those of us who are familiar with your prior work in the field were loathe to come to contradiction with your findings. However, we do feel that there are a number of physical attributes of the specimen which might have tipped you off to it's modern origin:
1. The material is molded plastic. Ancient hominid remains are typically fossilized bone.
2. The cranial capacity of the specimen is approximately 9 cubic centimetres, well below the threshold of even the earliest identified proto hominids.
3. The dentition pattern evident on the "skull" is more consistent with the common domesticated dog than it is with the "ravenous man eating Pliocene clams" you speculate roamed the wetlands during that time. This latter finding is certainly one of the most intriguing hypotheses you have submitted in your history with this institution, but the evidence seems to weigh rather heavily against it.
Without going into too much detail, let us say that:
A. The specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll that a dog has chewed on.
B. Clams don't have teeth.
It is with feelings tinged with melancholy that we must deny your request to have the specimen carbon dated. This is partially due to the heavy load our lab must bear in it's normal operation, and partly due to carbon dating's notorious inaccuracy in fossils of recent geologic record. To the best of our knowledge, no Barbie dolls were produced prior to 1956 AD, and carbon dating is likely to produce wildly inaccurate results. Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the National Science Foundation's Phylogeny Department with the concept of assigning your specimen the scientific name "Australopithecus spiffarino." Speaking personally, I, for one, fought tenaciously for the acceptance of your proposed taxonomy, but was ultimately voted down because the species name you selected was hyphenated, and didn't really sound like it might be Latin.
However, we gladly accept your generous donation of this fascinating specimen to the museum. While it is undoubtedly not a hominid fossil, it is, nonetheless, yet another riveting example of the great body of work you seem to accumulate here so effortlessly. You should know that our Director has reserved a special shelf in his own office for the display of the specimens you have previously submitted to the Institution, and the entire staff speculates daily on what you will happen upon next in your digs at the site you have discovered in your back yard. We eagerly anticipate your trip to our nation's capital that you proposed in your last letter, and several of us are pressing the Director to pay for it. We are particularly interested in hearing you expand on your theories surrounding the "transpositating fillifitation of ferrous ions in a structural matrix" that makes the excellent juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex femur you recently discovered take on the deceptive appearance of a rusty 9 mm Sears Craftsman automotive crescent wrench.
Yours in Science,
Harvey Rowe
Curator, Antiquities
It is rumored that Al GORE has subpoenaed Santa Claus over some "irregularities" that have been found on Christmas list handling procedures.
After the recent Florida Supreme court ruling ordered a 3rd election recount, Gore has allegedly said that "checking a list, and checking it twice" cannot possibly discern the true wishes of the children and the part about "who has been naughty, and who has been nice" is clearly a value judgment that does not take into account the circumstance surrounding said malfeasance.
Santa's list was obtained under the "Freedom of information act" and immediately a boiler room call center was formed to call all children to see if items listed on Santa's list were, in fact, the true desires of the kids.
Several indicated that they had intended to ask for Sony Playstations, and instead had checked off Nintendo 64. Many of the children were emotionally distraught and felt that the entire Christmas letter writing experience was outdated and "hard to understand."
In reviewing the post marks of the Christmas letters, it was found by Democrat Canvassing officials that certain letters, particularly those requesting "G.I. Joe" dolls were not properly postmarked. Those letters (obviously from Republican children) were thrown out.
Santa Claus indicated that there was not possibly enough time to get to each child by December 25. The Florida Supreme court is now considering postponement of Christmas until December 30th, to allow for a "full and accurate" list to be compiled!
In the light of recent Dutch legislation, DavisCo Travel is pleased to announce a new addition to our 'Nether Regions' weekend package holidays in Amsterdam.
Our previous packages - the 'High Culture' tour of coffee shops (£75), and the 'Eastward Ho' tour of alternative lifestyle nightspots (£150 incl. gents requisites) - are now augmented by our 'Go Granny Go' tour. 'Go Granny Go' (£250) is a new service for senior citizens and their carers, in which the elderly person - accompanied by a responsible adult (+£75) if required - initially travels to Schiphol airport. There they will be met by top physician Dr. Jooste van de Merder (or his representative) and whisked off to his clinic in the Amsterdam suburbs. The patient will be given a thorough medical exam to confirm that they are, as required by law, suffering from a terminal illness, severely depressed, of simply a f**king nuisance. They will then be treated with Dr. Jooste's advanced Kevork-o-Mat, which has never been known to fail in years of clinical application.
The departed's ashes (+£25) or remains (+£150) will then be returned to the embarking airport if required. Customers should note that a return ticket is a requirement for entry into The Netherlands, and the return portion is neither transferable nor refundable if unused.