Will the Real Bill Gates.. Please Stand Up!

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The real name of “the” Bill Gates is William Henry Gates III. Nowadays he is known as Bill Gates III. By converting the letters of his current name to the ASCII-values and adding his (III), you get the following:

  • B — 66
  • I — 73
  • L — 76
  • L — 76
  • G — 71
  • A — 65
  • T — 84
  • E — 69
  • S — 83
  • I — 1
  • I — 1
  • I — 1
  • Add them all together and you get… 666!

Some might ask, “How did Bill Gates get so powerful?” Coincidence? Or just the beginning of mankind’s ultimate and total enslavement??? Before you decide, consider the following:

MS – DOS 6.21 = 77+83+45+68+79+83+32+54+46+50+49 = 666

WINDOWS 95 = 87+73+78+68+79+87+83+57+53+1 = 666

Billy Gates Goes to Summer Camp

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Dear Jenny,

Ann Landers wouldn’t print this. I have nowhere else to turn. I have to get the word out. Warn other parents. I must be rambling on. Let me try and explain.

It’s about my son, Billy. He’s always been a good, normal ten-year-old boy. Well, last spring we sat down after dinner to select a summer camp for Billy. We sorted through the camp brochures. There were the usual camps with swimming, canoeing, games, singing by the campfire, you know. There were sports camps and specialty camps for weight reduction, music, military camps and camps that specialized in Tibetan knot tying. We tried to talk him into Camp Winnepoopoo. It’s where he went last year. (He made an adorable picture out of painted pinto beans and macaroni).

Billy would have none of it. Billy pulled a brochure out of his pocket. It was for a COMPUTER CAMP! We should have put our foot down right there, if only we had known. He left three weeks ago. I don’t know what’s happened. He’s changed. I can’t explain it. See for yourself. These are some of my little Billy’s letters.

  • Dear Mom,
    The kids are dorky nerds. The food stinks. The computers are the only good part. We’re learning how to program. Late at night is the best time to program, so they let us stay up.

    Love, Billy.

    Dear Mom,
    Camp is O.K. Last night we had pizza in the middle of the night. We all get to choose what we want to drink. I drink Classic Coke. By the way, can you make Szechuan food? I’m getting used to it now. Gotta go, it’s time for the flowchart class.

    Love, Billy.

    P.S. This is written on a word processor. Pretty swell, huh? It’s spell checked, too.

    Dear Mom,
    Don’t worry. We do regular camp stuff. We told ghost stories by the glow of the green computer screens. It was real neat. I don’t have much of a tan ’cause we don’t go outside very often. You can’t see the computer screen in the sunlight anyway. That wimp camp I went to last year fed us weird food too. Lay off, Mom. I’m okay, really.

    Love, Billy.

    Dear Mom,
    I’m fine. I’m sleeping enough. I’m eating enough. This is the best camp ever. We scared the counselor with some phony worm code. It was real funny. He got mad and yelled. Frederick says it’s okay. Can you send more money? I spent mine on a pocket protector and a box of blank diskettes. I’ve got to chip in on the phone bill. Did you know that you can talk to people on a computer? Give my regards to Dad.

    Love, Billy.

    Dear Mother,
    Forget the money for the telephone. We’ve got a way to not pay. Sorry I haven’t written. I’ve been learning a lot. I’m real good at getting onto any computer in the country. It’s really easy! I got into the university’s in less than fifteen minutes. Frederick did it in five, he’s going to show me how. Frederick is my bunk partner. He’s really smart. He says that I shouldn’t call myself Billy anymore. So, I’m not.

    Signed, Bill.

    Dear Mother,
    How nice of you to come up on Parents Day. Why’d you get so upset? I haven’t gained that much weight. The glasses aren’t real. Everybody wears them. I was trying to fit in. Believe me, the tape on them is cool. I thought that you’d be proud of my program. After all, I’ve made some money on it. A publisher is sending a check for $30,000. Anyway, I’ve paid for the next six weeks of camp. I won’t be home until late August.

    Regards, Bill.

    Mother,
    Stop treating me like a child. True… physically I am only ten years old. It was silly of you to try to kidnap me. Do not try again. Remember, I can make your life miserable (i.e. the bank, credit bureau, and government computers). I am not kidding. O.K.? I won’t write again, and this is your only warning. The emotions of this interpersonal communication drain me.

    Sincerely, Bill.

See what I mean? It’s been two weeks since I’ve heard from my little boy. What can I do, Jenny? I know that it’s probably too late to save my little Billy. But, if by printing these letters you can save JUST ONE CHILD from a life of programming, please, I beg of you to do so.

Thank you very much,
Sally Gates, Concerned Parent

A Typical Day at Macrosoft

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Hi. My name is Sherman. I work at Macrosoft. I read something lately that said Macrosoft was “the technological equivalent of a sweatshop” and it bothered me. I want to set the record straight so I decided to record what I do on a typical day at work. I hope this will clear things up. Thank you.

  • 4:33 AM — I woke up and put my pillow and blanket into the bottom drawer of my desk. Went down the hall for a double espresso but some idiot had turned the machine off. Had to settle for French Roast. Gordon stopped me on the way back to the office and asked if I would crack his back. He still hasn’t gotten used to the floor.
  • 4:38 AM — Gordon’s back cracked a little too loudly and he left for the hospital to get checked out. I am back at my desk checking my mail. Hmmm…. Wow! There’s a note here about the planning meeting for our new product. They’ve decided to call it Industry ’15 because it will do everything our other suite does plus put Federal Express, Charles Schwab, and Nabisco out of business. Kewl, dude!
  • 4:41 AM — Got another bloody nose. I don’t believe that damned doctor. There is no way caffeine can cause this. Shit, out of Kleenex. Thank God for that medicine cabinet.
  • 4:43 AM — Just got back and am ready for work. Boy, they keep putting new stuff in that medicine cabinet. Vivarin! What will they think of next. A couple of those and that espresso machine can kiss my ass.
  • 4:45 AM — Started coding. These hidden functions are tough. I don’t know how they expect me to stop someone’s modem lights from blinking while we upload their life’s history during registration. Hmm…. maybe a BIOS call to the serial driver.
  • 5:01 AM — Time for breakfast. Damned microwave. Even on defrost it still makes the cream squirt right out of the Twinkies. Well, at least old Gordon’s not here. Yesterday he was so tweaked out on Jolt he set it on high and the damned things exploded. Boy was maintenance pissed off. Took em half an hour to scrape that shit off the inside of the oven. We will have a meeting on that one.
  • 5:10 AM — Ah, nothing like a good meal. Burned my tongue though. Shit, it hurts. Read the company newsletter while I was eating and it mentioned that the wife changed her mind again on the layout of the kitchen at Bill’s new estate. Damn, at the rate they’re going they’ll move in on the same day he throws the switch and sends the ultimatum to Washington. Ooopps. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. That’s a top secret project. Oh, well, now you know.
  • 5:16 AM — Went out to the Web with Exploder 7.0 Beta. Just installed it yesterday and it ate my hard drive. They aren’t sure if that bug will be fixed. Too close to shipping. The plan is to blame it on Quicken if anyone calls support. PointCast is really hosed though and that pisses me off. Can’t get my stock quotes.
  • 5:22 AM — Gordon called. Says they’ve got him in a back brace. Promised to say he slipped in the game room while playing Asteroids so he can get L&I. He sounded a little pissed though. Better not play basketball with him anytime soon.
  • 5:28 AM — Damned contractor called in. He says his father died. Guess I’ll be testing today too. Oh well, I’ll throw in a few extra-nasty bugs just for him to choke on next week. Damned guys are spoiled. They only work 60 hours a week and cry like babies.
  • 5:37 AM — Cutting more code. Damned DOA objects. Never do what you want. Stupid thing just grabbed one of my dirty jpegs and slammed it into the server in building 36. Assholes don’t even give me delete rights. Damn. Better get over there and thrash it before the shit hits the fan.
  • 6:13 AM — Just got back. Shit, that was close. I had to practically sell my soul to get that picture deleted. Lucky for me that Bob had to go take a dump. Only problem was he had just started the backup, so I bumped into the tape to stop it and the frigging server went down. Oh well, he’ll be so busy cleaning that shit up he won’t have time to figure out what happened.
  • 6:22 AM — Gordon called back. His back is worse than they thought. He was leaving the hospital and had to go back. He told them he slipped on some dog shit that was out front and now they’re worried he’s going to sue them. They are admitting him for observation.
  • 6:41 AM — Jerry just got in. God, he’s such a prick. His “Pammy” just walked him to his desk, as always, and played tickle the tonsils with him just for my benefit. Damned contractors and their girlfriends. Think I’ll call H.R. and see if this is sexual harassment.
  • 7:19 AM — Got another call from Gordon. Apparently he has a ruptured disc and is going into emergency surgery.
  • 7:32 AM — Got a note about a special meeting. The loon that freaked out yesterday screwed up the source code and we’re gonna have to re-do some stuff. Be back later.
  • 9:17 AM — Boy, what a ball breaker. That wacko really trashed the project. Apparently he checked out nearly all the modules and massacred half the code. They also mentioned that the backup was no good because that moron Bob screwed it up this morning. God smiles on me.
  • 9:49 AM — Finally got PointCast going and downloaded the news. There’s another article about porno here at Macrosoft. Uh-oh, better do some clean up work.
  • 10:13 AM — Finished re-formatting my drive and am waiting for the system to finish loading. I took my zip drive down to the car and tucked it away in the trunk.
  • 10:27 AM — Ah, espresso at last. Just in time. I have a spec meeting in three minutes.
  • 11:45 AM — Another meeting from hell. I don’t know why they call them specs. You never actually see them until the project is done and off to shipping. I am going to lunch.
  • 12:12 PM — Got lunch. Boy, this pizza is the best. I don’t know what it is about the cheese though. Looks a little like a dried booger. They finally got Jolt on tap in the cafeteria. About damned time.
  • 12:26 PM — Finished lunch. Went to take a dump but the line was too long. Gotta hold it a while longer. Ran into Leslie in the hall and she told me I looked nice. Hmm… wonder what she wants. Reminds me. Better call H.R. about the “lip lizards”.
  • 1:03 PM — Called H.R. and talked to Rebecca. She said I might have a case for sexual harassment if Pammy-baby was making any eye contact with me while they were face-fucking. Suppose I could lie. Bitch wants me anyway, I can tell.
  • 1:27 PM — Finally got to take a shit. Jeez, that was a frigging sequoia. Stuck up there any longer and they’d have to cut it in half and count the rings to tell how old it was.
  • 1:41 PM — Jerry just left, glaring like the prick he is. I think Rebecca just nabbed his ass. Ha! Bite my prong you moron.
  • 1:48 PM — Jeez, I was getting grumpy. Got a double latte. That should bring me down a little. Gordon’s wife left a message on my machine saying that he is paralyzed from the neck down. They think it’s permanent. Just hope the bastard can’t talk either. I’m calling my lawyer.
  • 2:16 PM — Rebecca called back and has her titties in a tizzy. Seems Jerry the Fairy took Pammy Eats My Hammy down to her office and mentioned that little incident from last week. I told her it wasn’t even close to a grope, more like a wedgie. Oh, well, something else for the lawyer.
  • 2:29 PM — Well gag me with a frigging spatula! Another new guy. Damned contractors. Make more money than us and have that innocent look. Bradford, huh. That’s your name? Okay, you scrotum, the next virus will be named after you.
  • 2:52 PM — Whew. Went down to the car and took a shot of NyQuil. Man, I gotta come down a little. Call the lawyer. Call the lawyer.
  • 3:20 PM — Oh, Fuck! Damned lawyer called me! Gordon just croaked and the cops want to talk to me at five. Goddamned freaky bastard. What the hell did he think I was, a frigging chiropractor?
  • 3:51 PM — Damned nose is spewing blood like a fire hydrant. Be back in a minute.
  • 4:16 PM — Got the bleeding stopped but Janitorial is livid. They say the stain won’t come out of the carpet but hell, it’s already kind of red.
  • 4:58 PM — Just got handed a notice to appear before the harassment board on Monday. Fucking Jerry. I’ll get him and that prissy-assed bitch.
  • 5:22 PM — Ah, dinner. At least the NyQuil is working a little. These pizza rolls are the greatest. Gotta get me some next month when I go to the store.
  • 5:55 PM — Cops showed up because I forgot to go see them. Damned Gestapo gave me the third degree. The lawyer was already here because Jerry filed a lawsuit and Gordon’s wife is on her way over with a gun.
  • 6:29 PM — Man, what a day. Gordon’s wife was caught in the parking lot but wouldn’t leave until she was allowed to bitch me out. They took me downstairs and I faced her. Then all hell broke loose when her dog jumped out of their Jeep and attacked my groin. Bitch must have had him trained by some feminist group. Just stopped in to get my jacket before they take me over to the hospital.
  • 8:51 PM — Back at last. Damned dog did some damage. Five stitches and some rabies shots. I still don’t know what the penicillin was all about. They didn’t even have any real coffee there. Gotta go get a cup.
  • 9:00 PM — Cops just phoned. I have to be at the courthouse tomorrow morning for arraignment. They said I should bring my attorney. Ha, ha, joke’s on them. We’ll be there anyway dealing with Jerry and Pammy.
  • 9:36 PM — Got the virus finished and zapped it over to that new asshole’s system. Have a nice breakfast, you dillweed.
  • 9:58 PM — Last code for the day. I finished the new voice help feature. This is gonna be cool. I fixed one section extra special. If you play it backwards it says “Pammy fucks the band”. God, technology is great.
  • 10:25 PM — Talked to the lawyer. He said I should bring extra clothes tomorrow.
  • 10:49 PM — Shit! Circuit breaker in the kitchen went out. Nothing is working. Damn. There was only one Jolt left. Better make it last.
  • 11:22 PM — Couldn’t find my porno mags. I think Jerry got them. God, court is going to be a bitch. Worse than last year.
  • 11:43 PM — Called Mom. She said I didn’t get any mail. No news is good news, I guess. She mentioned that my dog died last week. Asked if I would be home soon.
  • 12:32 AM — Well, I think the day is over. I am going to crash if I can find a bloodless spot on the floor. Gotta set the computer to wake me up early. Big day tomorrow. Goodnight.

Any similarities between this and any real company are intentionally coincidental.

Abbott and Costello Meet Windows 7

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Costello: Hey, Abbott!

Abbott: Yes, Lou?

Costello: I just got my first computer.

Abbott: That’s great Lou. What did you get?

Costello: A Pentium IV 1.4 Gig, with 8 Gigs of RAM, a 500 Gig hard drive, and a 96X CD-ROM.

Abbott: That’s terrific, Lou.

Costello: But I don’t know what any of it means!!

Abbott: You will in time.

Costello: That’s exactly why I am here to see you.

Abbott: Oh?

Costello: I heard that you are a real computer expert.

Abbott: Well, I don’t know-

Costello: Yes-sir-ee. You know your stuff. And you’re going to train me.

Abbott: Really?

Costello: Uh huh. And I am here for my first lesson.

Abbott: O.K. Lou. What do want to know?

Costello: I am having no problem turning it on, but I heard that you should be very careful how you turn it off.

Abbott: That’s true.

Costello: So, here I am working on my new computer and I want to turn it off. What do I do?

Abbott: Well, first you press the Start button, and then-

Costello: No, I told you, I want to turn it off.

Abbott: I know, you press the Start button-

Costello: Wait a second. I want to turn it off. Off. I know how to start it. So tell me what to do.

Abbott: I did.

Costello: When?

Abbott: When I told you to press the Start button.

Costello: Why should I press the Start button?

Abbott: To shut off the computer.

Costello: I press Start to stop.

Abbott: Well Start doesn’t actually stop the computer.

Costello: I knew it! So what do I press.

Abbott: Start

Costello: Start what?

Abbott: Start button.

Costello: Start button to do what?

Abbott: Shut down.

Costello: You don’t have to get rude!

Abbott: No, no, no! That’s not what I meant.

Costello: Then say what you mean.

Abbott: To shut down the computer, press-

Costello: Don’t say, “Start!”

Abbott: Then what do you want me to say?

Costello: Look, if I want to turn off the computer, I am willing to press the Stop button, the End button and Cease and Desist button, but no one in their right mind presses the Start to Stop.

Abbott: But that’s what you do.

Costello: And you probably Go at Stop signs, and Stop at green lights.

Abbott: Don’t be ridiculous.

Costello: I am being ridiculous? Well. I think it’s about time we started this conversation.

Abbott: What are you talking about?

Costello: I am starting this conversation right now. Good-bye.

Marketing Slogans for Viagra

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  • This is your penis. This is your penis on drugs. Any questions?
  • Viagra, The quicker dicker upper
  • Viagra, One-a-day, like iron
  • Viagra, When it absolutely, positively has to be there tonight
  • Viagra, Home of the whopper
  • Viagra, It plumps when you take ’em
  • Viagra, Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman
  • Viagra, Tastes great, more filling
  • Viagra, Ten inches long … and growing.
  • Viagra, We work harder, so you don’t have to.

Viagra and its Proposed Cousins

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Viagra: The drug from Pfizer, which is currently being prescribed to increase sexual performance. It works by rushing blood to the genitals. With Viagra such a hit, Pfizer is bringing forth a whole line of drugs oriented towards improving the performance of men in today’s society.

  • DIRECTRA – a dose of this drug given to men before leaving on car trips caused 72 percent of them to stop and ask directions when they got lost, compared to a control group of 0.2 percent.
  • PROJECTRA – Men given this experimental new drug were far more likely to actually finish a household repair project before starting a new one.
  • CHILDAGRA – Men taking this drug reported a sudden, over-whelming urge to perform more child-care tasks – especially cleaning up spills and “little” accidents.
  • COMPLIMENTRA – In clinical trials, 82 percent of middle-aged men administered this drug noticed that their wives had a new hairstyle. Currently being tested to see if its effects extend to noticing new clothing.
  • BUYAGRA – Married and otherwise attached men reported a sudden urge to buy their sweeties expensive jewelry and gifts after talking this drug for only two days. Still to be seen: whether the drug can be continued for a period longer than your favorite store’s return limit.
  • NEGA-VIAGRA – Has the exact opposite effect of Viagra. Currently undergoing clinical trials on sitting U.S. presidents.
  • NEGA-SPORTAGRA – This drug had the strange effect of making men want to turn off televised sports and actually converse with other family members.
  • FLATULAGRA – This complex drug converts men’s noxious intestinal gases back into food solids. Special bonus: Dosage can be doubled for long car rides.
  • FLYAGRA – This drug has been showing great promise in treating men with O.F.D. (Open Fly Disorder). Especially useful for men on Viagra.
  • PRYAGRA – About to fail its clinical trial, this drug gave men in the test group an irresistible urge to dig into the personal affairs of other people. Note: Apparent overdose turned three test subjects into”special prosecutors.”
  • LIAGRA – This drug causes men to be less than truthful when being asked about their sexual affairs. Will be available in Regular, Grand Jury and Presidential Strength versions.

Welcome to the Psychiatric Hotline

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Hello! Welcome to the Psychiatric Hotline!

  • If you are Obsessive-Compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.
  • If you are Codependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.
  • If you have Multiple Personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.
  • If you are Paranoid, we know who you are. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.
  • If you are Delusional, press 7, and your call will be transferred to the Mother Ship.
  • If you are Schizophrenic, listen carefully, and a small voice will tell you which number to press.
  • If you are Dyslexic, press 96969696969696.
  • If you have a Nervous Disorder, please fidget with the Pound Button until a representative comes on the line.
  • If you have Amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, phone number, date of birth, social security number, and your mother’s and grandmother’s maiden names.
  • If you have short-term Memory Loss, please try your call again later.
  • If you have Low Self-Esteem, just hang up. None of our representatives would talk to someone like you!

Three Surgeons

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Once there were three surgeons engaged in conversation. They got on the topic of their occupation and each stated who they liked to operate on.

The first doctor said, “I like to work on electricians.”

“Why?” the others replied.

He answered, “When you open them up, they are all color coded so you know where everything goes.”

The second doctor said, “I like to work on librarians.”

“Why?” the other doctors asked.

He replied, “Librarians are all organized in a sophisticated pattern.”

The third doctor said, “Well, I like to work on lawyers.”

“Lawyers?!” replied the others suprised.

“Yes, Lawyers” he stated.

“But why?” they asked him.

“Well, they are gutless, they have no spine, and their heads and butts are interchangable.”

Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!

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A guy is walking past a high, solid wooden fence at the insane asylum and he hears all the residents inside chanting, “Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!”

He continues walking along the long fence, but, being a curious person, he can’t help but wonder why they are chanting “Thirteen!” over and over. Could it be that they are chugging beer? Are they perhaps taking turns beating one of the inmates? Maybe they are counting the number of patients that have leapt off of the roof thus far.

His curiosity peaks and he frantically searches for a hole in the fence so that he may see what is going on. Finally, he spots one a few feet ahead. The hole is low in the fence and he has to kneel down to peer inside.

He moves into position and peeks into the hole. As he looks in, someone inside pokes him in the eye! Then everyone inside the asylum starts chanting – “Fourteen! Fourteen! Fourteen!”

23rd Psalm for Psychiatrists

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The Lord is my external-internal integrative mechanism,
I shall not be deprived of gratification
for my viscerogenic hungers or my need dispositions.
He motivates me to orient myself
toward a non-social object with affective significance.
He positions me in a non-decisional situation.
He maximizes my adjustment.
Although I entertain masochistic and self-destructive id impulses,
I will maintain contact with reality, for my superego is dominant.
His analysis and tranquilizers, they comfort me.
He assists in the resolution of my internal conflicts
despite my Oedipal problem and psychopathic compulsions.
He promotes my group identification.
My personality is totally integrated.
Surely my prestige and status shall be enhanced
as a direct function of time,
And I shall remain sociologically, psychologically and economically secure forever.