Humorous Rants - Page 1

Coffee
The Greatest Flame?
Evil Despot handbook
The 'f' in OFSTED
From an IT Support Engineer's Perspective
Christmas Party
Dennis Leary Chain Mail
Santa's Poem
Letter from Bristol
McDonalds: A Vital Social Function

Next Page
Big Joke List

Coffee

I have exciting news for anybody who would like to pay a lot of money for coffee that has passed all the way through an animal's digestive tract.

And you just know there are plenty of people who would. Speciality coffees are very popular these days, attracting millions of consumers, every single one of whom is standing in line ahead of me whenever I go to the coffee place at the airport to grab a quick cup on my way to catch a plane.

These consumers are always ordering mutant beverages with names like "mocha-almond-honey-vinaigrette lattespressacino", beverages that must be made one at a time via a lengthy and complex process involving approximately one coffee bean, three quarts of dairy products, and what appears to be a small nuclear reactor.

Meanwhile, back in the line, there is growing impatience among those of us who just want a plain old cup of coffee so that our brains will start working and we can remember what our full names are and why we are catching an airplane. We want to strike the lattespressacino people with our carry-on baggage and scream "GET OUT OF OUR WAY, YOU TREND GEEKS, AND LET US HAVE OUR COFFEE!" But of course we couldn't do anything that active until we've had our coffee. It is inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity. I bet this kind of thing does not happen to heroin addicts. I bet that when serious heroin addicts go to purchase their heroin, they do not tolerate waiting in line while some dilettante in front of them orders a hazelnut smack-a-cino with cinnamon sprinkles. The reason some of us need coffee is that it contains caffeine, which makes us alert. Of course it is very important to remember that caffeine is a drug, and, like any drug, it is a lot of fun.

No! Wait! What I meant to say is: Like any drug, caffeine can have serious side effects if we ingest too much. This fact was noticed in ancient Egypt when a group of workers, who were supposed to be making a birdbath, began drinking Egyptian coffee, which is very strong, and wound up constructing the pyramids. I myself developed the coffee habit in my early 20's, when, as a "cub" reporter for the Daily Local News in West Chester, Pa., I had to stay awake while writing phenomenally boring stories about municipal government. I got my coffee from a vending machine that also sold hot chocolate and chicken-noodle soup; all three liquids squirted out of a single tube, and they tasted pretty much the same. But I came to need that coffee, and even today I can do nothing useful before I've had several cups. (I can't do anything useful afterward, either; that's why I'm a columnist.)

But here's my point: This specialty-coffee craze has gone too far. I say this in light of a letter I got recently from alert reader Bo Bishop. He sent me an invitation he received from a local company to a "private tasting of the highly prized Luwak coffee," which "at $300 a pound ... is one of the most expensive drinks in the world." The invitation states that this coffee is named for the luwak, a "member of the weasel family" that lives on the island of Java and eats coffee berries. As the berries pass through the luwak, a "natural fermentation" takes place, and the berry seeds - the coffee beans - come out of the luwak intact. The beans are then gathered, washed, roasted, and sold to coffee connoisseurs. The invitation states:

"We wish to pass along this once in a lifetime opportunity to taste such a rarity." Or, as Bo Bishop put it: "They're selling processed weasel doodoo for $300 a pound."

I first thought this was a clever hoax designed to ridicule the coffee craze. Tragically, it is not. There really is a Luwak coffee. I know because I bought some from a speciality-coffee company in Atlanta. I paid $37.50 for two ounces of beans. I was expecting the beans to look exotic, considering where they'd been, but they looked like regular coffee beans. In fact, for a moment I was afraid that they were just regular beans, and that I was being ripped off. Then I thought: What kind of world is this when you worry that people might be ripping you off by selling you coffee that was NOT pooped out by a weasel?

So anyway, I ground the beans up and brewed the coffee and drank some. You know how sometimes, when you're really skeptical about something, but then you finally try it, you discover that it's really good, way better than you would have thought possible? This is not the case with Luwak coffee.

Luwak coffee, in my opinion, tastes like somebody washed a dead cat in it. But I predict it's going to be popular anyway, because it's expensive. One of these days the people in front of me at the airport coffee place are going to be ordering decaf poopacino. I'm thinking of switching to heroin.

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The Greatest Flame?

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. Don't you know that you are pathetic? You worthless bag of filth. As we say in Texas. I'll bet you couldn't pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you. You are a bloody nardless newbie twit protohominid chromosomally aberrent caricature of a coprophagic cloacal parasitic pond scum, and I wish you would go away.

You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselfs in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

If you aren't an idiot, you made a world-class effort at simulating one. Try to edit your writing of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you ckoke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusionally self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meatslapper.

On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn't really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.:
You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally Not Good.

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Evil Despot handbook

The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord

1. My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.
2. My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.
3. My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.
4. Shooting is not too good for my enemies.
5. The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.
6. I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them.
7. When I've captured my adversary and he says, ``Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?'' I'll say, ``No.'' and shoot him. No, on second thought I'll shoot him then say ``No.''
8. After I kidnap the beautiful princess, we will be married immediately in a quiet civil ceremony, not a lavish spectacle in three weeks' time during which the final phase of my plan will be carried out.
9. I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled ``Danger: Do Not Push''. The big red button marked ``Do Not Push'' will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such.
10. I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum -- a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well.
11. I will be secure in my superiority. Therefore, I will feel no need to prove it by leaving clues in the form of riddles or leaving my weaker enemies alive to show they pose no threat.
12. One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation.
13. All slain enemies will be cremated, or at least have several rounds of ammunition emptied into them, not left for dead at the bottom of the cliff. The announcement of their deaths, as well as any accompanying celebration, will be deferred until after the aforementioned disposal.
14. The hero is not entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any other form of last request.
15. I will never employ any device with a digital countdown. If I find that such a device is absolutely unavoidable, I will set it to activate when the counter reaches 117 and the hero is just putting his plan into operation.
16. I will never utter the sentence ``But before I kill you, there's just one thing I want to know.''
17. When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice.
18. I will not have a son. Although his laughably under-planned attempt to usurp power would easily fail, it would provide a fatal distraction at a crucial point in time.
19. I will not have a daughter. She would be as beautiful as she was evil, but one look at the hero's rugged countenance and she'd betray her own father.
20. Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it's too easy to miss unexpected developments that a more attentive individual could adjust to accordingly.
21. I will hire a talented fashion designer to create original uniforms for my Legions of Terror, as opposed to some cheap knock-offs that make them look like Nazi stormtroopers, Roman footsoldiers, or savage Mongol hordes. All were eventually defeated and I want my troops to have a more positive mind-set.
22. No matter how tempted I am with the prospect of unlimited power, I will not consume any energy field bigger than my head.
23. I will keep a special cache of low-tech weapons and train my troops in their use. That way -- even if the heroes manage to neutralize my power generator and/or render the standard-issue energy weapons useless my troops will not be overrun by a handful of savages armed with spears and rocks.
24. I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line ``No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!'' (After that, death is usually instantaneous.)
25. No matter how well it would perform, I will never construct any sort of machinery which is completely indestructible except for one small and virtually inaccessible vulnerable spot.
26. No matter how attractive certain members of the rebellion are, there is probably someone just as attractive who is not desperate to kill me. Therefore, I will think twice before ordering a prisoner sent to my bedchamber.
27. I will never build only one of anything important. All important systems will have reduntant control panels and power supplies. For the same reason I will always carry at least two fully loaded weapons at all times.
28. My pet monster will be kept in a secure cage from which it cannot escape and into which I could not accidentally stumble.
29. I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion.
30. All bumbling conjurers, clumsy squires, no-talent bards, and cowardly thieves in the land will be pre-emptively put to death. My foes will surely give up and abandon their quest if they have no source of comic relief.
31. All naive, busty tavern wenches in my realm will be replaced with surly, world-weary waitresses who will provide no unexpected reinforcement and/or romantic subplot for the hero or his sidekick.
32. I will not fly into a rage and kill a messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Good messengers are hard to come by.
33. I won't require high-ranking female members of my organization to wear a stainless-steel bustier. Morale is better with a more casual dress-code. Similarly, outfits made entirely from black leather will be reserved for formal occasions.
34. I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.
35. I will not grow a goatee. In the old days they made you look diabolic. Now they just make you look like a disaffected member of Generation X.
36. I will not imprison members of the same party in the same cell block, let alone the same cell. If they are important prisoners, I will keep the only key to the cell door on my person instead of handing out copies to every bottom-rung guard in the prison.
37. If my trusted lieutenant tells me my Legions of Terror are losing a battle, I will believe him. After all, he's my trusted lieutenant.
38. If an enemy I have just killed has a younger sibling or offspring anywhere, I will find them and have them killed immediately, instead of waiting for them to grow up harboring feelings of vengeance towards me in my old age.
39. If I absolutely must ride into battle, I will certainly not ride at the forefront of my Legions of Terror, nor will I seek out my opposite number among his army.
40. I will be neither chivalrous nor sporting. If I have an unstoppable superweapon, I will use it as early and as often as possible instead of keeping it in reserve.
41. Once my power is secure, I will destroy all those pesky time-travel devices.
42. When I capture the hero, I will make sure I also get his dog, monkey, ferret, or whatever sickeningly cute little animal capable of untying ropes and filching keys happens to follow him around.
43. I will maintain a healthy amount of skepticism when I capture the beautiful rebel and she claims she is attracted to my power and good looks and will gladly betray her companions if I just let her in on my plans.
44. I will only employ bounty hunters who work for money. Those who work for the pleasure of the hunt tend to do dumb things like even the odds to give the other guy a sporting chance.
45. I will make sure I have a clear understanding of who is responsible for what in my organization. For example, if my general screws up I will not draw my weapon, point it at him, say ``And here is the price for failure,'' then suddenly turn and kill some random underling.
46. If an advisor says to me ``My liege, he is but one man. What can one man possibly do?'', I will reply ``This.'' and kill the advisor.
47. If I learn that a callow youth has begun a quest to destroy me, I will slay him while he is still a callow youth instead of waiting for him to mature.
48. I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not immediately come after me for revenge.
49. If I learn the whereabouts of the one artifact which can destroy me, I will not send all my troops out to seize it. Instead I will send them out to seize something else and quietly put a Want-Ad in the local paper.
50. My main computers will have their own special operating system that will be completely incompatible with standard IBM and Macintosh powerbooks.
51. If one of my dungeon guards begins expressing concern over the conditions in the beautiful princess' cell, I will immediately transfer him to a less people-oriented position.
52. I will hire a team of board-certified architects and surveyors to examine my castle and inform me of any secret passages and abandoned tunnels that I might not know about.
53. If the beautiful princess that I capture says ``I'll never marry you! Never, do you hear me, NEVER!!!'', I will say ``Oh well'' and kill her.
54. I will not strike a bargain with a demonic being then attempt to double-cross it simply because I feel like being contrary.
55. The deformed mutants and odd-ball psychotics will have their place in my Legions of Terror. However before I send them out on important covert missions that require tact and subtlety, I will first see if there is anyone else equally qualified who would attract less attention.
56. My Legions of Terror will be trained in basic marksmanship. Any who cannot learn to hit a man-sized target at 10 meters will be used for target practice.
57. Before employing any captured artifacts or machinery, I will carefully read the owner's manual.
58. If it becomes necessary to escape, I will never stop to pose dramatically and toss off a one-liner.
59. I will never build a sentient computer smarter than I am.
60. My five-year-old child advisor will also be asked to decipher any code am thinking of using. If he breaks the code in under 30 seconds, it will not be used. Note: this also applies to passwords.
61. If my advisors ask ``Why are you risking everything on such a mad scheme?'', I will not proceed until I have a response that satisfies them.
62. I will design fortress hallways with no alcoves or protruding structural supports which intruders could use for cover in a firefight.
63. Bulk trash will be disposed of in incinerators, not compactors. And they will be kept hot, with none of that nonsense about flames going through accessible tunnels at predictable intervals.
64. I will see a competent psychiatrist and get cured of all extremely unusual phobias and bizarre compulsive habits which could prove to be a disadvantage.
65. If I must have computer systems with publically available terminals, the maps they display of my complex will have a room clearly marked as the Main Control Room. That room will be the Execution Chamber. The actual main control room will be marked as Sewage Overflow Containment.
66. My security keypad will actually be a fingerprint scanner. Anyone who watches someone press a sequence of buttons or dusts the pad for fingerprints then subsequently tries to enter by repeating that sequence will trigger the alarm system.
67. No matter how many shorts we have in the system, my guards will be instructed to treat every surveillance camera malfunction as a full-scale emergency.
68. I will spare someone who saved my life sometime in the past. This is only reasonable as it encourages others to do so. However, the offer is good one time only. If they want me to spare them again, they'd better save my life again.
69. All midwives will be banned from the realm. All babies will be delivered at state-approved hospitals. Orphans will be placed in foster-homes, not abandoned in the woods to be raised by creatures of the wild.
70. When my guards split up to search for intruders, they will always travel in groups of at least two. They will be trained so that if one of them disappears mysteriously while on patrol, the other will immediately initiate an alert and call for backup, instead of quizzically peering around a corner.
71. If I decide to test a lieutenant's loyalty and see if he/she should be made a trusted lieutenant, I will have a crack squad of marksmen standing by in case the answer is no.
72. If all the heroes are standing together around a strange device and begin to taunt me, I will pull out a conventional weapon instead of using my unstoppable superweapon on them.
73. I will not agree to let the heroes go free if they win a rigged contest, even though my advisors assure me it is impossible for them to win.
74. When I create a multimedia presentation of my plan designed so that my five-year-old advisor can easily understand the details, I will not label the disk ``Project Overlord'' and leave it lying on top of my desk.
75. I will instruct my Legions of Terror to attack the hero en masse, instead of standing around waiting while members break off and attack one or two at a time.
76. If the hero runs up to my roof, I will not run up after him and struggle with him in an attempt to push him over the edge. I will also not engage him at the edge of a cliff. (In the middle of a rope-bridge over a river of molten lava is not even worth considering.)
77. If I have a fit of temporary insanity and decide to give the hero the chance to reject a job as my trusted lieutentant, I will retain enough sanity to wait until my current trusted lieutenant is out of earshot before making the offer.
78. I will not tell my Legions of Terror ``And he must be taken alive!'' The command will be ``And try to take him alive if it is reasonably practical.''
79. If my doomsday device happens to come with a reverse switch, as soon as it has been employed it will be melted down and made into limited-edition commemorative coins.
80. If my weakest troops fail to eliminate a hero, I will send out my best troops instead of wasting time with progressively stronger ones as he gets closer and closer to my fortress.
81. If I am fighting with the hero atop a moving platform, have disarmed him, and am about to finish him off and he glances behind me and drops flat, I too will drop flat instead of quizzically turning around to find out what he saw.
82. I will not shoot at any of my enemies if they are standing in front of the crucial support beam to a heavy, dangerous, unbalanced structure.
83. If I'm eating dinner with the hero, put poison in his goblet, then have to leave the table for any reason, I will order new drinks for both of us instead of trying to decide whether or not to switch with him.
84. I will not have captives of one sex guarded by members of the opposite sex.
85. I will not use any plan in which the final step is horribly complicated, e.g. ``Align the 12 Stones of Power on the sacred altar then activate the medallion at the moment of total eclipse.'' Instead it will be more along the lines of ``Push the button.''
86. I will make sure that my doomsday device is up to code and properly grounded.
87. My vats of hazardous chemicals will be covered when not in use. Also, I will not construct walkways above them.
88. If a group of henchmen fail miserably at a task, I will not berate them for incompetence then send the same group out to try the task again.
89. After I captures the hero's superweapon, I will not immediately disband my legions and relax my guard because I believe whoever holds the weapon is unstoppable. After all, the hero held the weapon and I took it from him.
90. I will not design my Main Control Room so that every workstation is facing away from the door.
91. I will not ignore the messenger that stumbles in exhausted and obviously agitated until my personal grooming or current entertainment is finished. It might actually be important.
92. If I ever talk to the hero on the phone, I will not taunt him. Instead I will say this his dogged perseverance has given me new insight on the futility of my evil ways and that if he leaves me alone for a few months of quiet contemplation I will likely return to the path of righteousness. (Heroes are incredibly gullible in this regard.)
93. If I decide to hold a double execution of the hero and an underling who failed or betrayed me, I will see to it that the hero is scheduled to go first.
94. When arresting prisoners, my guards will not allow them to stop and grab a useless trinket of purely sentimental value.
95. My dungeon will have its own qualified medical staff complete with bodyguards. That way if a prisoner becomes sick and his cellmate tells the guard it's an emergency, the guard will fetch a trauma team instead of opening up the cell for a look.
96. My door mechanisms will be designed so that blasting the control panel on the outside seals the door and blasting the control panel on the inside opens the door, not vice versa.
97. My dungeon cells will not be furnished with objects that contain reflective surfaces or anything that can be unravelled.
98. If an attractive young couple enters my realm, I will carefully monitor their activities. If I find they are happy and affectionate, I will ignore them. However if circumstance have forced them together against their will and they spend all their time bickering and criticizing each other except during the intermittent occasions when they are saving each others' lives at which point there are hints of sexual tension, I will immediately order their execution.
99. Any data file of crucial importance will be padded to 1.45Mb in size.
100. Finally, to keep my subjects permanently locked in a mindless trance, I will provide each of them with free unlimited Internet access.

Peter's Evil Overlord List
This list is Copyright 1996 by Peter Anspach. If you enjoy it, feel free to pass it along or post it anywhere, provided that (1) it is not altered in any way, and (2) this copyright notice is attached.

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The 'f' in OFSTED

There's only one f in OFSTED
but that's quite enough for us
If there's no f in lesson plans
There's one hell of a fuss.

There's a f in form to fill in
For everything that's said
There'll be no f in future
If that fails to please the Head.

Sounds like one f in photocopier
Has died from overheat
There's no f in chance at all
To keep the worksheets neat.

There'll be no f in inspector
When your lesson is first rate
And there's no f in good excuse
To explain why you are late.

There should be an f in handbook
For everything to do
Tell the R.I. you left it
For light reading in the loo.

There's no f in parking space
For half the f in staff
RESERVED for f in OFSTED
Who have the last f in laff.

There's no f in spiritual
Or cultural education
No f in equality
But lots in differentiation.

There's only one f in OFSTED
With its 'Education Speak'
Thank God there's an f in Friday
To end the OFSTED week.

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From an IT Support Engineer's Perspective

1. When a IT support engineer says he's coming right over, go away for a coffee. It's nothing for us to remember everyone's screensaver password.
2. When you call IT support to have your computer moved, be sure to leave it buried under half a ton of postcards, baby pictures and other assorted crap. We don't have a life so we find it deeply moving to catch a fleeting glimpse of yours.
3. When NT support sends you an email with high importance, delete it immediately. We're just testing the public groups.
4. When a IT support engineer is eating his lunch at his desk, walk right in and spill your guts out - we only exist to serve.
5. When a IT support engineer is having a smoke in the smoking room, ask him a computer question. The only reason why we smoke at all is to ferret out those clients who don't have access to email or a telephone
6. Send urgent email in UPPERCASE. The mail server picks it up and flags it as a rush delivery.
7. When you call a IT support engineer's direct line, press 5 to skip the bilingual greeting that tells you he's out of town for a week, record your message and wait exactly 24 hrs before you send an email to the managing director because no-one ever returned your call. You are, after all, entitled to common courtesy.
8. When the photocopier doesn't work, call NT support. After all, there's electronics in it
9. When you're getting a NO DIAL TONE message from home, call NT support we can fix your line from the office
10. When something is wrong with your home PC, dump it on a IT support engineer's desk with no name, no phone number and no description of the problem. We love a challenge
11. When you have NT Support on the phone walking you through changing a setting, read the paper. We don't actually mean for you to do anything, we just love the sound of our own voices
12. When we offer training on the new software package, don't bother. We'll be there to hold your hand once it's complete
13. When the printer won't print, re-send the job at least 20 times. Everyone knows print jobs get sucked into black holes every now and then.
14. When the printer STILL won't print after 20 attempts, send the job to every other printer in the building. One of them is bound to work
15. Don't use online help - that is for wimps
16. If you're taking night classes in computer science, feel free to go around and update the network drivers for you and all your co-workers. We're grateful for any overtime we can get.
17. When you have IT support engineer fixing your PC at 2:15, eat your lunch in front of him. We function better when wracked with pangs of hunger
18. Don't EVER thank us - we're paid for doing this
19. When a IT support engineer asks you if you've installed any new software on your computer, LIE. It's not our business what you've got on the PC
20. If a mouse cable keeps knocking down the picture of your loved one, lift the computer and trap the cable. Mouse cables were designed to have 45 lbs of computer sitting on top of them
21. If the spacebar on your computer doesn't work, blame it on the exchange upgrade. Keyboards are actually very happy with half a pound of biscuit crumbs and nail clippings in them
22. When you get a message asking "Are You Sure ?", click on that YES button as fast as possible. Hell, if you weren't sure, you wouldn't be doing it in the first place, would you ?
23. Feel free to say things like "I don't know nothing about that computer crap". We don't mind hearing our area of expertise referred to as crap.
24. When you need to change the toner cartridge, call IT support. Changing the cartridge is an extremely technical task and Hewlett Packard recommends that it be performed only by a professional engineer with a masters degree in Nuclear Physics
25. When something is the matter with your computer, ask your secretary to call the helpdesk. We enjoy the challenge of having to deal with a third-party who knows jack-shit about the problem
26. When you receive a 300 Mb AVI file, send it on to everyone as a mail attachment. We've got LOADS of disk space on the server
27. Don't even think of breaking large print jobs down into smaller chunks. Someone else may sneak a memo into the queue
28. If your son is a student in computer science, have him come on over the weekend and do his projects on your work PC. We'll be there for you when his illegal copy of Visual Basic 6 makes your Access 95 disappear and riddles your PC with viruses
29. When you bring your own personal home PC in for repair in the office leave the documentation at home. Don't worry, we'll find all the settings and drivers on the Internet.

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Christmas Party

I'm happy to inform you that the company Christmas Party will take place on December 23, starting at noon in the banquet room at Luigi's Open Pit Barbecue. No-host bar, but plenty of eggnog! We'll have a small band playing traditional Christmas carols ... feel free to sing along. And don't be surprised if our CEO shows up dressed as Santa Claus!

In no way was yesterday's memo intended to exclude our Jewish employees. We recognize that Chanukah is an important holiday which often coincides with Christmas, though unfortunately not this year. However, from now on we're calling it our "Holiday Party." The same policy applies to employees who are celebrating Kwanza at this time.

Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous requesting a non-drinking table ... you didn't sign your name. I'm happy to accommodate this request, but if I put a sign on a table that reads, "AA Only", you wouldn't be anonymous anymore. How am I supposed to handle this? Somebody?

What a diverse company we are! I had no idea that December 20 begins the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which forbids eating, drinking and sex during daylight hours. There goes the party! Seriously, we can appreciate how a luncheon this time of year does not accommodate our Muslim employees' beliefs. Perhaps Luigi's can hold off on serving your meal until the end of the party --- the days are so short this time of year --- or else package everything for take-home in little foil swans ... Will that work? Meanwhile, I've arranged for members of Overeaters Anonymous to sit farthest from the dessert buffet, and pregnant women will get the table closest to the restrooms ... Did I miss anything?

So December 22 marks the Winter Solstice ... what do you expect me to do, a tap-dance on your heads? Fire regulations at Luigi's prohibit the burning of sage by our "earth-based Goddess-worshiping" employees, but we'll try to accommodate your shamanic drumming circle during the band's breaks ... Okay???

People, people, nothing sinister was intended by having our CEO dress up like Santa Claus! Even if the anagram of "Santa" does happen to be "Satan," there is no evil connotation to our own "little man in a red suit." It's a tradition, folks, like sugar shock at Halloween, or family feuds over the Thanksgiving turkey, or broken hearts on Valentine's Day ... Could we lighten up?

Vegetarians!?!?!? I've had it with you people!!! We're going to keep this party at Luigi's Open Pit Barbecue whether you like it or not, so you can sit quietly at the table furthest from the "grill of death", as you so quaintly put it, and you'll get your #$?%^{&c*! salad bar, including hydroponic tomatoes. But you know, they have feelings, too. Tomatoes scream when you slice them. I've heard them scream, I'm hearing them scream right now!

I'm sure I speak for all of us in wishing Pat Lewis a speedy recovery from her stress-related illness and I'll continue to forward your cards to her at the sanitarium. In the meantime, management has decided to cancel our Holiday Party and give everyone the afternoon of the 23rd off. Sick pay will be automatically deducted from your next paycheck.

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Dennis Leary Chain Mail

Hello, my name is Basmati Kasaar. I am suffering from rare and deadly diseases, poor scores on final exams, extreme virginity, fear of being kidnapped and executed by anal electrocution, and guilt for not forwarding out 50 billion f**king chain letters sent to me by people who actually believe that if you send them on, then that poor 6 year old girl in Arkansas with a breast on her forehead will be able to raise enough money to have it removed before her redneck parents sell her off to the travelling freak show.

Do you honestly believe that Bill Gates is going to give you and everyone you send "his" email to $1000? How stupid are you? Ooooh, lookyhere! If I scroll down this page and make a wish, I'll get laid by every Playboy model in the magazine! What a bunch of bullshit. So basically, this message is a big F**K YOU to all the people out there who have nothing better to do than to send me stupid chain mail forwards. Maybe the evil chain letter leprechauns will come into my apartment and sodomize me in my sleep for not continuing the chain which was started by Jesus in 5 A.D. and was brought to this country by midget pilgrims on the Mayflower and if it makes it to the year 2000, it'll be in the Guinness Book of World Records for longest continuous streak of blatant stupidity. F**k them. If you're going to forward something, at least send me something mildly amusing.

I've seen all the "send this to 50 of your closest friends, and this poor, wretched excuse for a human being will somehow receive a nickel from some omniscient being" forwards about 90 times. I don't f**king care. Show a little intelligence and think about what you're actually contributing to by sending out forwards. Chances are it's your own unpopularity.

THE FOUR BASIC TYPES OF CHAIN LETTERS:

Chain Letter Type 1: (scroll down)

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Make a wish!!!

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No, really, go on and make one!!!

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Oh please, they'll never go out with you!!! Wish something else!!!

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Not that, you pervert!!

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Is your finger getting tired yet?

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STOP!!!! Wasn't that fun? :) Hope you made a great wish :) Now, to make you feel guilty, here's what I'll do. First of all, if you don't send this to 5096 people in the next 5 seconds, you will be raped by a mad goat and thrown off a high building into a pile of manure. It's true! Because, THIS letter isn't like all of those fake ones, THIS one is TRUE!! Really!!!

Here's how it goes:

• Send this to 1 person: One person will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter.
• Send this to 2-5 people: 2-5 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter.
• Send this to 5-10 people: 5-10 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter, and may form a plot on your life.
• Send this to 10-20 people: 10-20 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter and will firebomb your house.

Thanks!!!! Good Luck!!!

Chain Letter Type 2:

Hello, and thank you for reading this letter. You see, there is a starving little boy in Baklaliviatatlaglooshen who has no arms, no legs, no parents, and no goats. This little boy's life could be saved, because for every time you pass this on, a dollar will be donated to the Little Starving Legless Armless Goatless Boy from Baklaliviatatlaglooshen Fund. Oh, and remember, we have absolutley no way of counting the emails sent and this is all a complete load of bullshit. So go on, reach out.

Send this to 5 people in the next 47 seconds. Oh, and a reminder if you accidentally send this to 4 or 6 people, you will die instantly. Thanks again!!

Chain Letter Type 3:

Hi there!! This chain letter has been in existence since 1897. This is absolutely incredible because there was no email then and probably not as many sad pricks with nothing better to do. So this is how it works:

Pass this on to 15,067 people in the next 7 minutes or something horrible will happen to you like:

• Bizarre Horror Story #1
  Miranda Pinsley was walking home from school on Saturday. She had recently recieved this letter and ignored it. She then tripped in a crack in the sidewalk, fell into the sewer, was gushed down a drainpipe in a flood of poopie, and went flying out over a waterfall. Not only did she smell nasty, she died. This Could Happen To You!!!
• Bizarre Horror Story #2
  Dexter Bip, a 13 year old boy, got a chain letter in his mail and ignored it. Later that day, he was hit by a car and so was his boyfriend (hey, some people swing that way). They both died and went to hell and were cursed to eat adorable kittens every day for eternity. This Could Happen To You Too!!! Remember, you could end up just like Pinsley and Bip. Just send this letter to all of your loser friends, and everything will be okay.

Chain Letter Type 4:

As if you care, here is a poem that I wrote. Send it to every one of your friends. The point being? If you get some chain letter that's threatening to leave you shagless or luckless for the rest of your life, delete it. If it's funny, send it on. Don't piss people off by making them feel guilty about a leper in Botswana with no teeth, who's been tied to a dead elephant for 27 years, whose only saviour is the 5 cents per letter he'll receive if you forward this mail, otherwise you'll end up like Miranda. Right?

Now forward this to everyone you know otherwise you'll have to look at me naked!

Dennis Leary

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Santa's Poem

T'was the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works.
I've busted my ass for damn near a year,
Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night
The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter
They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money?
And the kids these days - they all are the pits
They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM!
Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment
There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason
I found me a blonde.. I'm going SOUTH for the season!!

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Letter from Bristol

Barry Beelzebub regularly writes apoplectic stuff of this variety in the Bristol Evening Post, with the obvious intention of winding people up.

Dear Sir,

It has long been my belief that you should only be allowed to protest in public if you pay income tax. And you should only be allowed to vote at the ballot box if you own property. Sensible policies, both. And tested in time, too. If only Mr. Blah had thought to bring about these simple changes in the law, he would have avoided last week's double embarrassment of Red Ken's election and the rioting soap-dodgers. Perhaps it's me, but could someone explain why people who campaign for animal rights would throw bottles at police horses? Or why Friends of the Earth supporters would want to dig up the grass in a perfectly adequate London square? Or why anti-capitalists thought nicking the till out of a burger bar was a political statement? Or why campaigners for freedom would desecrate a shrine to the very people who fought and died for that freedom? What a bunch of immature, selfish, hypocritical idiots. Bring down the State?

Better not, Tarquin. The State provides your giro and your housing benefit, you work-shy moron. What would you do without that little green cheque every other Thursday? Somebody has to pay for the extra-strong cider and multiple nose piercings.

It makes me sick. If a bunch of football fans had pulled a stunt like that, they'd have been banged up before you could say CS gas. But this gang of middle-class warriors was allowed to deface national monuments while the police looked on. Mind you, Winston Churchill with a green Mohican haircut would have scared the wotsername out of Adolf Hitler.

My comments on the moral values of travellers seem to have ruffled a few feathers amongst the bleeding-heart Lefties who live like leeches on the publicly-funded fat of our society. One enraged correspondent (it must have been his turn to have the crayons this week) accuses me of using "intemperate and exaggerated language", says people like me should be exterminated and then likens me to Adolf Hitler. Pot, kettle, black, old pal. Another wailing Willy, who was obviously off sick the day they did irony at school, challenges me to produce hard evidence to support my claim that gypsies steal babies. Evidence? Of course there's no evidence. It's all covered up by a conspiracy of Masonic magistrates, policemen and politicians, aided and abetted by a secret sect of corrupt district nurses. Somewhere in Essex, there's a warehouse full of stolen babies. They're brought up by retired lap dancers and then they go off to be prison officers. Stick that in your meat-free pipe and smoke it, you monument of mediocrity.

My final correspondent (green ink, pressed down VERY HARD so that it comes through the back of the white weave Basildon Bond) argues that travellers are people too and have the right to live just as they want. Half right, mate. Travellers have the right to live as they want as long as they abide by the rules that bind the rest of us. That means paying road tax, paying council tax and buying a television licence. It means paying for a plot of land on which to live and paying income tax on the proceeds of patching up all those dodgy driveways. It means obeying the law, rather than laughing at it. And the sooner the hand-wringing apologists on most councils realise this, the better.

My doctor has forbidden me to read The Guardian on the grounds that it does terrible things to my blood pressure, but I sneaked a look last week to see the following: "Burglars are people. For the most part, young people, even teenagers. From their point of view burglary must be fun as well as a way of making a few quid." Fun? Fun? What are they on? What a bunch of lily-livered, social-working, leather-elbowed windbags. Fun?

Just ask an old lady who's been terrorised, had her last few possessions stolen and who now lives in permanent fear. Fun? Just ask anyone who has to pay sky high insurance premiums because the cops would rather catch drivers eating Kit Kats than tattooed scrotes running off with your video recorder. I'll give them fun, these poor lambs. Any sticky-fingered yobbo coming within a hundred yards of Beelzebub Mansions will get to play a game currently popular amongst country dwellers. It's called Reasonable Force and involves a teenage thief, a baseball bat and a five iron.

Yours faithfully,

Barry Beelzebub

The views of Mr. Beelzebub are purely personal and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Editor or staff of this newspaper, or anyone who thinks our new cabinet-style council will result in more openness, or anyone who thinks Jez Quigley is hard, or of the snotty-nosed schoolboy in the back of the Volvo estate who stuck two fingers up at me this morning.

Your Dad's phone number was painted on the side, Sonny. And I'm ringing him tonight.

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McDonalds: A Vital Social Function

I had a McDonald hamburger thing once and thought it the second most revolting thing that had ever been in my mouth. Nevertheless, I think their establishments are marvellous because they provide a sink for the riff-raff and so keep them and their ghastly children out of decent restaurants, tea-rooms, and coffee houses.

One of my favorite eating houses is the pavilion tea-room overlooking the ocean and the bowling green at Bognor. It's tranquil oasis of civilised behaviour. Where one is actually served at the table by well- spoken, suitably obsequious mini-skirted waitresses who would, I'm sure, allow one to massage their breasts and tweak their nipples if one felt so inclined. There's a little brunette who I'm sure doesn't w... But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes:

Last year disaster struck; the place was suddenly invaded by unwashed, loud-mouthed hordes of Sun-reading Giles family horrors wearing made in China tracksuits with white stripes down zippered trouser seams, waving lottery tickets and pokeman cards. Had an exploded WWII bomb been discovered on the local council house estate? I wondered. But no -- it was worse, far worse: the high street McDonalds had closed.

Has anyone experienced the true horror of having a McDonalds close down on them? For a small town like Bognor it's a disaster, like having a main sewer collapse. The streets and gutters immediately back up and are overflowing with the excrement of comprehensive-educated humanity in no time. Floods in Bangladesh or Mozambique are nothing in comparison. Relief and RAF helicopters borrowed from Russia pour in in such cases, but a little town like Bognor losing its McDonalds is ignored by the world community and in no time disease, famine, and terror are stalking the streets as ruthless, power-crazed burger barons move in to fill the vacuum.

Why, I hear no-one ask, did the McDonalds close? Blame the manager. He suddenly had a vision which led to him abolishing the smoking area. Bognor street rats are trained from the age of about ten to get through at least 40 cigars a day, particularly girls who discover that they're cheaper than slimming pills. The result of this thoughtless action by the McDonalds' manager resulted in the loss of his core Blimey business. The establishment struggled on for a few weeks and finally collapsed.

The state of emergency ended with the opening of a new McDonalds in a bank. I presume it has a smoking area because, thankfully, the streets have been swept clear of the social dregs and normality restored.

So it's back to the peace and quiet of the pavilion tea-room with some of the shine in my smile applied to my shoes to see if my theory about the little brunette waitress is correct.

James Follett

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