[3243] in Central_America
New quotes for Sat Mar 2
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Initializer.SysDaemon)
Sat Mar 2 01:30:01 1991
Date: Sat, 2 Mar 91 01:29:23 EST
From: root@charon.MIT.EDU (Initializer.SysDaemon)
To: ca-mtg@bloom-beacon.mit.edu
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
acevedo (Gabriel):
{From system: This user's .plan file is a symlink!}
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
gamadrid (George A Madrid):
This is Jonathan Hart, self-made millionaire.
Quite a guy.
This is his wife, Jennifer.
She's gorgeous.
Me? I'm Max.
I take care of 'em, which ain't easy,
'cause when they met, it was moida.
da DA da dum
da da DA dum
da da da DUM da da dum...
doo do do do do do doooo
(do do do doo do)...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
glassw (William B Glass):
Seen during late night "tool and die" session:
UNAUTHENTIC Instance zippy message at 05:27:37 on Fri Mar 1 1991
From: Zippy sez ... <Pinhead's Pride> at ALEFNULL.MIT.EDU
Will this never-ending series of PLEASURABLE EVENTS never cease?
Authentic Personal message at 05:35:18 on Fri Mar 1 1991
From: Dr! Jonathan! systems philosopher <richmond> at M1-142-19.MIT.EDU
Zippy never was the most tactful of people...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
jab (J. B. Gumby):
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
**** The Package Tour Complaint: TOUR PYTHON ****
**** From the third series of Monty Python's Flying Circus ****
What's the point of going abroad if you're just another tourist carted around
in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Coventry in
their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their
Sunday Mirrors, complaining about the tea - "Oh they don't make it properly
here, do they, not like at home" - and stopping at Majorcan bodegas selling
fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in
their cotton frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw
swollen purulent flesh 'cos they "overdid it on the first day." And being
herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Continentales with their
modern international luxury roomettes and draught Red Barrel and swimming pools
full of fat German businessmen pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and
frightening the children and barging into queues and if you're not at your
table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the
first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night the
hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with
nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a
big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners. And adenoidal typists from
Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy
bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel and once a week there's an excursion to
the local Roman Remains to buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleeding
Watney's Red Barrel and one evening you visit the so called typical restaurant
with local colour and atmosphere and you sit next to a party from Rhyl who keep
singing "Torremolinos, torremolinos" and complaining about the food - "It's so
greasy isn't it?" - and you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from
Luton with an Instamatic camera and Dr. Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's Daily
Express and he drones on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this
country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up
over the Cuba Libres. And sending tinted postcards of places they don't
realise they haven't even visited to "All at number 22, weather wonderful, our
room is marked with an 'X'. Food very greasy but we've found a charming little
local place hidden away in the back streets where they serve Watney's Red
Barrel and cheese and onion crisps and the accordionist plays 'Maybe it's
because I'm a Londoner'." And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton
airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried BEA-type
sandwiches and you can't even get a drink of Watney's Red Barrel because you're
still in England and the bloody bar closes every time you're thirsty and
there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the
plastic ash-trays and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour although
your plane is still in Iceland and has to take some Swedes to Yugoslavia before
it can load you up at 3 a.m. in the bloody morning and you sit on the tarmac
till six because of "unforeseen difficulties", i.e. the permanent strike of
Air Traffic Control in Paris - and nobody can go to the lavatory until you take
off at 8, and when you get to Malaga airport everybody's swallowing
"enterovioform" and queuing for the toilets and queuing for the armed customs
officers, and queuing for the bloody bus that isn't there to take you to the
hotel that hasn't yet been finished. And when you finally get to the
half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel del Sol by paying half your holiday
money to a licensed bandit in a taxi you find there's no water in the pool,
there's no water in the taps, there's no water in the bog and there's only a
bleeding lizard in the bidet. And half the rooms are double booked and you
can't sleep anyway because of the permanent twenty-four-hour drilling of the
foundations of the hotel next door - and you're plagues by appalling apprentice
chemists from Ealing pretending to be hippies, and middle-class stockbrokers'
wives busily buying identical holiday villas in suburban development plots just
like Esher, in case the Labour government gets in again, and fat American
matrons with sloppy-buttocks and Hawaiian-patterned ski pants looking for any
mulatto male who can keep it up long enough when they finally let it all flop
out. And the Spanish Tourist Board promises you that the raging cholera
epidemic is merely a case of mild Spanish tummy, like the previous outbreak of
Spanish tummy in 1660 which killed half London and decimated Europe - and
meanwhile the bloody Guardia are busy arresting sixteen-year-olds for kissing
in the streets and shooting anyone under nineteen who doesn't like Franco. And
then on the last day in the airport lounge everyone's comparing sunburns,
drinking Nasty Spumante, buying cartons of duty free "cigarillos" and using up
their last pesetas on horrid dolls in Spanish National costume and awful straw
donkeys and bullfight posters with your name on "Ordoney, El Cordobes and Brian
Pules of Norwich" and 3-D pictures of the Pope and Kennedy and Franco, and
everybody's talking about coming again next year and you swear you never will
although there you are tumbling bleary-eyed out of a tourist-tight antique
Iberian airplane.....
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
jecolmen (Jorge Colmenares):
Building a Low Pass Filter using an OP-07
Power Supply Got from Servo-Systems.
Assembled Succesfully
Double-throw switches arrived from GE
---------
Turbulent Transport of Aerosols
Upgrading Equipment
Designing a Wind Tunnel for Data Acquisition
___________
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
jjprior (Jack Prior):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
lnp (Lisa N Paradis):
In the future:
3/2 Brass Ensemble concert at Symphony Hall
3/12 Kristine's birthday
3/17 Kristine's bridal shower (Don't get wet :-) )
report 2 for 6.033
1.101 project proposal (heh, heh just wait...)
buy fabric for dress
buy fabric for canopy
get a glue gun (mine broke :-( ) so I can make corsages
finish teddy-bear tux for groom bear (for Kris)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Words-n-stuff for the day:
Today's secret word is transitive.
tran.si.tive \'tran(t)s-*t-iv, 'tranz-; 'tran(t)s-tive\
\.tran(t)s-*-'tiv-*t-e-, .tranz-\ aj [LL transitivus, fr. L transitus, pp.
of transire] 1: characterized by having or containing a direct object {a ~
verb} {a ~ construction} 2: so relating items that if the first is related
to the second and the second is to a third then the first is so related to
the third {equality is a ~ relation} 3: TRANSITIONAL - tran.si.tive.ly av -
tran.si.tive.ness n - tran.si.tiv.i.ty n
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
mdtsai (May D Tsai):
don't worry...i don't bite.... >:-)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
therese (Suntioinen Therese M.):
Go placidly among the noise and haste, remember what peace
there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with with all persons. Speak your truth
quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and
ignorant, they too have their story - Avoid loud and aggressive
persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare
yourself with others, there will be greater and lesser persons
than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans -
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a
real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise
caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of
trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere, life is full
of heroism - Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity
and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass - Take kindly
to the counsel of they years, gracefully surrending the things
of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden
misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome
discipline, be gentle with yourself - You are a child of the
universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right
to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the
universe is unfolding as it should - Therefore be at peace with
God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors
and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with
your soul - With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is
still a beautiful world. Be careful, strive to be happy.
- Max Ehrman
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
tytso (Theodore Y. Ts'o):
From comp.risks:
``(I am, obviously, overcoming my own handicap in this [hotel] room,
namely, that a phone cord is permanently fixed to the wall without
nice modular jack for nethacking. Screwdrivers, 'gator clips, and an
attitude ... don't leave home without them!)''
----
setenv TEDPATH 253-8091:253-8400:253-7788:395-0154:393-9332
--- End of Central America ---
