after hours 3
Some great anagrams, courtesy of Nancy L. Douglas, Director, Ryerson Library Foundation...
|Desperation||A rope ends it|
|The morse code||Here come dots|
|Slot machines||Cash lost in ’em|
|Animosity||Is no amity|
|Snooze alarms||Alas! no more Zs|
|Alec Guinness||Genuine class|
|Semolina||Is no meal|
|The public art galleries||Large picture halls, I bet|
|A decimal point||I’m a dot in place|
|The earthquakes||That queer shake|
|Eleven plus two||Twelve plus one|
|Contradiction||Accord not in it|
|To be or not to be: that is the question, whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.||In one of the Bard’s best-thought-of tragedies, our insistent hero, Hamlet, queries on two fronts about how life turns rotten.|
|That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind. (Neil Armstrong, on the moon)||A thin man ran; makes a large stride, left planet, pins flag on moon! On to Mars!|
|Clinton, President of the USA||To copulate, he finds interns|
Carjacking Foiled: An elderly lady did her shopping and upon return found 4 males in her car. She dropped her shopping bags and drew her handgun, proceeding to scream at them at the top of her voice that she knows how to use it and that she will if required ... so get out of the car. The 4 men didn’t wait around for a second invitation but got out and ran like mad, where upon the lady proceeded to load her shopping bags into the back of the car and got into the drivers seat. Small problem, her key wouldn’t fit the ignition. Her car was identical and parked four/five spaces further down. She loaded her bags into her car and drove to the police station. The sergeant that she told the story to nearly tore himself in two with laughter and pointed to the other end of the counter where 4 pale white males were reporting a car-jacking by a mad elderly white woman ... No charges were filed.
Here is the way in which a literal minded management consultant reported on a symphony concert.
For considerable periods the four oboe players had nothing to do. The number should be reduced and the work spread more evenly over the whole concert, thus eliminating peaks and valleys of activity.
All the twelve violins were playing identical notes, this seems unnecessary duplication. The staff of this section should be drastically cut. If a larger volume of sound is required, it could be obtained by means of electronic apparatus.
Much effort was absorbed in the playing of demi-semi-quavers; this seems to be an unnecessary refinement. It is recommended that all notes be rounded up to the nearest semi-quaver. If this were done, it would be possible to use trainees and lower grade operatives more extensively.
There seems to be too much repetition of some musical passages. Scores should be drastically pruned. No useful purpose is served by repeating on the horns something which has already been handled by the strings. It is estimated that if all redundant passages were eliminated the whole concert time of 2 hours could be reduced to 20 minutes and there would be no need for an intermission.
In many cases the operators were using one hand for holding the instrument, whereas the introduction of a fixture would have tendered the idle hand available for other work. Also, it was, noted that excessive effort was being used occasionally by the players of wind instruments, whereas one compressor could supply adequate air for all instruments under more accurately controlled conditions.
Finally, obsolescence of equipment is another matter into which it is suggested further investigation could be made, as it was reported in the program that the leading violinist’s instrument was already several hundred years old. If normal depreciation schedules had been applied, the value of this instrument would have been reduced to zero and purchase of more modern equipment could then have been considered.
(From R M Fulmer and T T Herbert, Exploring the New Management, Macmillan, New York 1974)
Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson went on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine they lay down for the night, and went to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend. "Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."
Watson replied, "I see millions and millions of stars."
"So what does that tell you?", asked Sherlock.
Watson pondered for a minute. "Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you?"
Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke. "Watson, you dickhead. Some bastard has stolen our tent."
Today’s reading is from the Book of Corporate Life, Chapter 11, verses 1-15:
In the beginning was the Plan.
And then came the Assumptions.
And the Assumptions were without form.
And the Plan was without Substance.
And darkness was upon the face of the Workers.
And the Workers spoke among themselves saying, "It is crock of shit and it stinks."
And the Workers went unto their Supervisors and said, "It is a crock of dung and we cannot live with the smell.
And the Supervisors went unto their Managers saying, "It is a container of organic waste, and it is very strong, such that none may abide by it."
And the Managers went unto their Directors, saying, "It is a vessel of fertilizer, and none may abide its strength."
And the Directors spoke among themselves, saying to one another; "It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong."
And the directors went to the Vice Presidents, saying unto them, "It promotes growth, and it is very powerful."
And the Vice Presidents went to the President, saying unto him, "It has very powerful effects."
And the President looked upon the Plan and saw that it was good.
And the Plan became Policy.
And that is how Shit Happens.
A life-long city man, tired of the rat race, decided he was going to give up the city life, move to the country, and become a chicken farmer. He found a nice, used chicken farm, which he bought. Turns out that his next door neighbour was also a chicken farmer. The neighbour came for a visit one day and said, "Chicken farming ain’t easy. Tell you what. To help you get started, I’ll give you 100 chickens."
The new chicken farmer was thrilled. Two weeks later the new neighbour stopped by to see how things were going. The new farmer said, "not too good. All 100 chickens died."
The neighbour said "Oh, I can’t believe that. I’ve never had any trouble with my chickens. I’ll give you 100 more."
Another two weeks went by, and the neighbour stops in again. The new farmer says, You’re not going to believe this, but the second 100 chickens died too."
Astounded, the neighbour asked, "What did you do to them? What went wrong?"
Well, says the new farmer, "I’m not sure. But I think I’m not planting them far enough apart."