JOKES OF THE DAY

"Why are you eating grass?" he asked the man.

"I don't have any money for food," the poor man replied.

"Oh, please come to my house!"

"But sir, I have a wife and four children..."

"Bring them along!" the rich man said.

They all climbed into the limo. Once underway, the poor fellow said, "Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us in."

The rich man replied, "No, you don't understand. The grass at my house is over three feet tall!"

more or less)

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale Of the doom that

is our fate. That started when programmers used Two digits

for a date. Two digits for a date.

Main memory was smaller then; Hard disks were smaller, too.

"Four digits are extravagant, So let's get by with two. So

let's get by with two."

"This works through 1999," The programmers did say. "Unless

we rewrite before that It all will go away. It all will go

away."

But Management had not a clue: "It works fine now, you bet!

A rewrite is a straight expense; We won't do it just yet. We

won't do it just yet."

Now when 2000 rolls around It all goes straight to @#%&, For

zero's less than ninety-nine, As anyone can tell. As anyone

can tell.

The mail won't bring your pension check It won't be sent to

you When you're no longer sixty-eight, But minus thirty-two.

But minus thirty-two.

The problems we're about to face Are frightening, for sure.

And reading every line of code's The only certain cure. The

only certain cure.

(key change, big finish)

There's not much time, There's too much code. (And

Cobol-coders, few) When the century is finished with, We may

be finished, too. We may be finished, too.

Eight thousand years from now I hope That things weren't

left too late, And people aren't then lamenting Four digits

for a date. Four digits for a date.

Elaine went to visit the much heralded local fortune-teller.

In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news: "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just be blunt - prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year."

Visibly shaken, Elaine stared at the woman's haggard face, then at the single, flickering candle, then down at her hands.

The other day I had the opportunity to drop by my department head's office. He's a friendly guy and, on the rare opportunities that I have to pay him a visit, we have had enjoyable conversations.

While I was in his office, I asked him, "Sir, what is the secret of your success?"

He said, "Two words."

"And, Sir, what are they?"

"Right decisions."

"But how do you make right decisions?"

"One word," he responded.

"And, Sir, what is that?"

"Experience."

"And how do you get experience?"

"Two words."

"And, Sir what are they?"

"Wrong decisions."

After the first day, the boy's parents were surprised when he walked in after school with a stern, focused and very determined expression on his face.

He went straight past them, right to his room and quietly closed the door. For nearly two hours he toiled away in his room with math books strewn about his desk and the surrounding floor. He emerged long enough to eat, and after quickly cleaning his plate, went straight back to his room, closed the door and worked feverishly at his studies until bedtime.

This pattern of behavior continued until it was time for the first quarter's report card. The boy walked in with it unopened, laid it on the dinner table and went straight to his room.

Cautiously, his mother opened it and, to her amazement, she saw a large red 'A' under the subject of Math. Overjoyed, she and her husband rushed into their son's room, thrilled at his remarkable progress.

Was it the nuns that did it? the father asked. The boy shook his head and said "No."

Was it the one-to-one tutoring? The peer-mentoring? "No."

The textbooks? The teachers? The curriculum?

"No," said the son. "On that first day, when I walked in the front door and saw that guy nailed to the plus sign, I KNEW they were serious!

A Real Estate salesman had just closed his first deal, only to discover that the piece of land he had sold was completely under water.

“That customer’s going to come back here pretty mad,” he said to his boss. “Should I give him his money back?”

“Money back?” roared the boss. “What kind of salesman are you? Get out there and sell him a houseboat.”