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Some interesting theories

A contest was held for people to submit their theories on ANY subject.

Below are the winners:

4th RUNNER-UP (Subject: Probability Theory)
If an infinite number of rednecks riding in an infinite number of pickup trucks fire an infinite number of shotgun rounds at an infinite number of highway signs, they will eventually produce all the world's great literary works in Braille.

3rd RUNNER-UP (Subject: Bio-Mechanics)
Why Yawning Is Contagious: You yawn to equalize the pressure on your eardrums. This pressure change outside your eardrums unbalances other people's ear pressures, so they then yawn to even it out.

2nd RUNNER-UP (Subject: Symbolic Logic)
Communist China is technologically underdeveloped because they have no alphabet and therefore cannot use acronyms to communicate technical ideas at a faster rate.

1st RUNNER-UP (Subject: Newtonian Mechanics)
The earth may spin faster on its axis due to deforestation. Just as a figure skater's rate of spin increases when the arms are brought in close to the body, the cutting of tall trees may cause our planet to spin dangerously fast.

HONORABLE MENTION (Subject: Linguistics)
The quantity of consonants in the English language is constant. If omitted in one place, they turn up in another. When a Bostonian "pahks his cah," the lost R's migrate southwest, causing a Texan to "warsh" his car and invest in "erl" wells.

GRAND PRIZE WINNER (Subject: Perpetual Motion)
When a cat is dropped, it always lands on its feet, and when toast is dropped, it always lands buttered side down. It was proposed to strap giant slabs of hot buttered toast to the back of a hundred tethered cats;the two opposing forces will cause the cats to hover, spinning inches above the ground. Using the giant buttered toast/cat array, a high-speed monorail could easily link New York with Chicago.

Cybersex - Very funny

Online computer users often engage in what is affectionately known as "cybersex". Often the fantasies typed into keyboards and shared through Internet phone lines get pretty raunchy. However, as you'll see below, one of the two cyber-surfers in the following transcript of an online chat doesn't seem to quite get the point of cyber sex. Then again, maybe he does...

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?

Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds.I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart.I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you.Would you like to screw me?

Wellhung: OK

Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom.There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table.I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.

Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse.My hands are trembling.

Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.

Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure.The cool silk slides off my warm skin.I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse.I'm sorry.

Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.

Wellhung: I'll pay for it.

Sweetheart: Don't worry about it.I'm wearing a lacy black bra.My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.

Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra.I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?

Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly.I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.

Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.

Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.

Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!

Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.

Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.

Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.

Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.

Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.

Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you...umm... wait a minute.

Sweetheart: What's the matter?

Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.

Sweetheart: Are you OK?

Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.

Sweetheart: Can I help?

Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?

Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.

Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.

Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.

Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?

Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

Wellhung: I found it.

Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.

Wellhung: Me too.

Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies pressing each other.

Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.

Sweetheart Why don't you take off your glasses?

Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.

Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.

Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.

Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.

Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!

Sweetheart: What's the matter now?

Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.

Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.

Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing...in your...you know...woman's thing. Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!

Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.

Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!

Wellhung: I'm flaccid.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.

Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.

Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.

Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.

Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.

Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.

Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.

Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!

Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!

Sweetheart:

Carjacking in Reverse

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.

Monty Python - Self Defense against Fruit

Worst job in the world!

Physics Final

A thermodynamics professor wrote a take home exam for his graduate students. It had one question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Support your answer with a proof.

Most of the students wrote their proofs using Boyle's Law -- gas cools off when it expands and heats up when it is compressed -- or some variant thereof. One student, however, wrote:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. Therefore, we need to know the rate that souls are moving into Hell and rate they are leaving. I think we can safely assume that once a soul goes to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, well, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions, and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can predict that all people and all souls will go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand as souls are added. Thus, we are left with two possibilities:

1) If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2)Of course, if Hell is expanding at a faster rate than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it? If we accept the postulate given me by Ms. Therese Banyan during my freshman year, i.e., "It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you" and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then #2 cannot be true, and so Hell is exothermic.

The student received the only A.

Badtimes Virus

If you receive an email entitled "Badtimes," delete it immediately. Do not open it. Apparently this one is pretty nasty.

It will not only erase everything on your hard drive, but it will also delete anything on disks within 20 feet of your computer. It demagnetizes the stripes on ALL of your credit cards. It reprograms your ATM access code, screws up the tracking on your VCR and uses subspace field harmonics to scratch any CD's you attempt to play.

It will re-calibrate your refrigerator's coolness settings so all your ice cream melts and your milk curdles. It will program your phone autodial to call only your mother-in-law's number. This virus will mix antifreeze into your fish tank. It will drink all your beer. It will leave dirty socks on the coffee table when you are expecting company.

Its radioactive emissions will cause your toe jam and bellybutton fuzz (honest, you have some) to migrate behind your ears. It will replace your shampoo with Nair and your Nair with Rogaine, all while dating your current boy/girlfriend behind your back and billing their hotel rendezvous to your Visa card.

It will cause you to run with scissors and throw things in a way that is only fun until someone loses an eye. It will give you Dutch Elm Disease and Tinea. It will rewrite your backup files, changing all your active verbs to passive tense and incorporating undetectable misspellings which grossly change the interpretations of key sentences.

If the "Badtimes" message is opened in a Windows95 environment, it will leave the toilet seat up and leave your hair dryer plugged in dangerously close to a full bathtub. It will not only remove the
forbidden tags from your mattresses and pillows, but it will also refill your skim milk with whole milk. It will replace all your luncheon meat with Spam.

It will molecularly rearrange your cologne or perfume, causing it to smell like dill pickles. It is insidious and subtle. It is dangerous and terrifying to behold. It is also a rather interesting shade of mauve. These are just a few signs of infection.

The Life of a Computer Science Major - Author Unknown

Ask anyone who has stayed awake for thirty-seven hours consuming nothing but
Coke and Snickers bars and staring into a green CRT screen, if there is
anything glamorous about the world of computer programming. Look deep into
his bloodshot eyes, and try to detect any signs of joy among the red
streaks. Then, just for kicks, ask him why he does what he does, despite all
the pain it's causing. The most positive answer you'll get is, ``it feels so
good when it stops.''

Although computer sciences majors come in all sizes and shapes, each
possesses that essential ``nerd'' quality which led us to declare the major
in the first place. Some of us, the stragglers, are only part time nerds.
Unfortunately, over the past three years, an alarming number of lifers,
full-time nerds, have appeared. These are the really scary people who hang
around the terminal room regularly, with absolutely no purpose for being
there. People who'd rather sit around hacking on a Saturday evening than
lying stuporously drunk in one of the Dellys, or sleeping. This specialized
breed of computer nerds, affectionately known as the Computer Nazis, becomes
an increasingly large organization every semester. No one knows exactly
where they come from, since no one has ever seen a Nazi outside of the
computer center. Similarly, no one has ever tried to find one, either.

The leader of the Williamsburg Nazis, it seems, is a large Arabic slob we
shall call Abdul. Abdul typifies the model Nazi. Granted, he's not quite as
dweebish looking as you'd expect, yet somehow you know that he's not the
kind of guy you'd invite to dinner. He's loud, he's self-righteous, and he
can tell you anything about the computer system you'd never want to know.
Below Abdul are his Seargeants at Arms, Jeff and Andy. Though not quite as
loud as their leader, both possess voices which will rise above all others
at large gatherings. Jeff has a lisp and Andy is annoyingly nasal; everyone
in the department can imitate his favorite Nazi. Somehow, they're always in
your class. And today is no exception.

Larry, the instructor wanders in, dumps several folders on his podium, and
smiles at the class. Attendance is good today, for the first time since the
beginning of the semester. Ah yes. Today he is to hand out the specs for the
final program, an event not to be missed. Floating among the seemingly
carefree students is a definite air of uneasiness; a combination of hope,
anticipation, and dread. He passes out the assignment, announcing that he
will take questions regarding the program during the next class meeting.

Simultaneously, two hands shoot up in the front row. Apparently, Abdul and
Andy, the ``Sunshine Boys'', have questions which can't wait two days.
You've got to hand it to these guys. They're fast readers, and seem to zero
in on ambiguous phrases and logical errors in the description even before
the entire class has received the document. This time they've even caught
the instructor off guard with their rapid fire analysis of his instructions.
You can tell that Larry really wants to tell them off, but remembers his own
Nazi days.

Two days go by. It's Question Day. Again, Abdul and Andy have the floor.
Seems that the instructor's skeleton for the program didn't work for some
obscure test case, and caused their respective programs to bomb. Larry
apologizes to Abdul, and makes a few witty comments to Andy. Most of the
class stares in amazement with the patented Computer Science ``Holy Shit''
expression hanging off of their faces. Have these two guys actually finished
the assignment already? We haven't had the thing for forty-eight hours yet.
Hell, I don't even remember where I put my specs sheet.

Two weeks have passed. Monday morning. The project is due on Wednesday.
Questions are finally rolling in from people other than the Sunshine Boys. A
certain anxiety begins to well up in the stomach as the deadline approaches.
Serious doubts about finishing the program in time arise. Larry, ever the
entertainer, mentions that ``If you haven't started the project yet, you'll
never get it done.'' He means it, too. That night, the stragglers tackle the
machine for the first time in weeks, trying to make some sort of headway, or
at least translate the problem at hand.

There are two mutually exclusive techniques that are used in the early
stages of programming: The Software Engineering method, and the ever-popular
Brute Force strategy. Right from the start of our computer careers, we are
told that any problem can be broken down into manageable pieces, and that
these pieces can be linked together to form a logically constructed program;
the method used by Software Engineers. This process is time consuming, yet
incredibly simple. Keep the pieces as small as possible, construct each one
separately, get it to working, and plug it in. ``This method can be applied
to any problem you'll ever have to solve, in the field of computer science,
or in real life situations,'' says the textbook. Sure. If you've got the
time.

Brute Force can similarly be applied to any real life situation, and in the
early stages it's quicker than the Software Engineering method. It's
instinctive, spontaneous, and produces concrete results almost immediately.
Read the problem, get a general idea of where you're headed, and head there.
Start simply, and then build the sucker. If you don't understand something,
ignore it. If it doesn't work, throw it out. Assume you know more about what
you're doing than you actually do. It's kind of like picking a nice living
room set, and building a house around it.

Apparently, Brute Force is the way to go this time around. The first few pot
shots at the problem miss their target completely, but finally pieces begin
to fit together. Granted, there's no central structure here yet, but we've
definitely bought the living room set. And, with a little bit of pushing and
bending of good programming rules, we seem to have built the fireplace and
part of the upstairs bedroom. So far so good. Who says we can't finish this
in two days? Get a printout, go home, have a beer and watch David Letterman.

The Letterman show appears to have been a tactical error. Brute Force has
come to its inevitable halt, and the deadline is tomorrow. Bits and pieces
of the program are working just fine, but the major chunks are still in
shambles. The program has to be finished within the next eighteen hours. We
have not choice but to begin the Caffeine Airlift.

If it weren't for caffeine, many of us computer science majors would have
died back in sophomore year. Sometimes, there just aren't enough waking
hours in the day to accomplish everything that has to be done. The logical
solution is to eliminate some of the sleeping hours, through carefully
measured doses of coffee and Coke. Time release caffeine pills were in
fashion two years ago, but turned out to be entirely too efficient. It's
difficult to concentrate on programming when your body wants to tap dance.
In any shape or form, the Caffeine Airlift has saved us all.

Once the body is properly primed, the work begins. The computer lab
overflows with other desperate individuals, all heavily caffeinated, and all
decked out for the long night ahead. Grab a terminal, and start hacking.
It's comforting to know that everyone else will fail this project with you.
The mood is surprisingly relaxed, and jokes about impending doom begin to
fly.

Ten o'clock. Eleven hours and counting. Condition: guarded but stable. The
three Cokes in your system are making your legs bounce, but you ignore it.
Concentration is the key. The room fills to capacity, and the jokes
continue. Of course no one will finish, but who cares anymore? This is no
longer a project, but a mission. Actually, you've made amazing progress in
the last few hours, but won't admit it to the others. More fun to complain,
isn't it?

Midnight. The Jello Hour. The Jello Principle state that ``no matter what
quick solution you find for a given problem, it will still make you worse
off than you were before.'' Kind of like nailing Jello to a tree. The
temporary solutions look pretty for awhile, but are destined to fail in the
long run. After Jello hour, you get a whole new perspective on life. The
beard begins to appear. The empty Coke cups form a wall along the side of
your work space. You realize that you'll miss Letterman tonight. Short cuts
that simulate important program elements come to mind, are added to the
code, fail, and are discarded. The best rule of thumb is to try something so
unorthodoxly simple, that it could never work. Odds are that it will.

One thirty. You've watched half of your classmates walk out in stuporous
frustration. The die-hards remain, chugging caffeine in lethal dosages and
cursing quietly to themselves. And suddenly, the peaceful torpor of the
terminal lab is shattered by the unexpected arrival of the Nazis. Abdul
strolls in, flips on a terminal, and talks loudly to his partner Jeff across
the room. In the back of your mind, you wonder where Andy is tonight, but
the truth is you don't really care. Abdul is amused that we non-Nazis are
working on the same program they had finished nearly two weeks ago. Jeff
comments, through his speech impediment, that the program was ``trivial.''
Eventually, the Nazis become engrossed in their own work, whatever the hell
they do at two o'clock in the morning. Abdul has found some new way to amuse
himself, and yells for Jeff to come over. Jeff yells back that he's too
busy. Everyone wishes Abdul and Jeff would die painfully.

Finished. It's four AM, and the damn thing is finally in the can. Smile at
the amphetimized corpses as you leave, and wish them luck. The walk home
seems longer tonight. No cars. No birds. No noise. Life seems to have gone
on outside of the computer center. As you hit the bed, you know you're too
wired to fall asleep. It doesn't matter. You've won the game again. As your
body continues its tap dance, you realize that the process is going to start
again on Monday. No problem. Yeah, it's hurts for awhile. But it feels so
good when you stop....

Starrr Wars

A Clinton Quickie

Monica walks into her dry cleaning store and tells the guy, "I've got another dress for you to clean." Slightly hard of hearing, the clerk replies, "Come again?" "No," says Monica. "Mustard."

The old man and the genie

A man was walking along a California beach and stumbled across an old lamp. He picked it up and rubbed it and out popped a genie. The genie said, OK, OK. You released me from the lamp, blah blah blah.

This is the fourth time this month and I'm getting a little sick of these wishes so you can forget about three. You only get one wish! The man sat and thought about it for a while and said, "I've
always wanted to go to Hawaii but I'm scared to fly and I get very seasick. Could you build me a bridge to Hawaii so I can drive over there to
visit?"

The genie laughed and said, "That's impossible. Think of the logistics of that! How would the supports ever reach the bottom of the Pacific? Think of how much concrete...how much steel!! No, think of another wish."

The man said OK and tried to think of a really good wish.

Finally, he said, I've been married and divorced four times. My wives always said that I don't care and that I'm insensitive. So, I wish that I could understand women....know how they feel inside and
what they're thinking when they give me the silent treatment....know why they're crying, know what they really want when they say nothing'....know how to make them truly happy....

The genie said, "You want that bridge two lanes or four?"

Michigan DEQ and the Dam Builders

This was an actual letter from and a reply to the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality, State of Michigan:

Mr. Ryan De Vries
2088 Dagget
Pierson, MI 49339

Dear Mr. DeVries:

SUBJECT: DEQ File No. 97-59-0023-1 T11N, R10W, Sec. 20, Montcalm County

It has come to the attention of the Department of Environmental Quality that there has been recent unauthorized activity on the above-referenced parcel of property. You have been certified as the legal landowner and/or contractor who did the following unauthorized activity:

Construction and maintenance of two wood debris dams across the outlet stream of Spring Pond. A permit must be issued prior to the start of this type of activity. A review of the Department's files shows that no permits have been issued. Therefore, the Department has determined that this activity is in violation of Part 301, Inland Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Michigan Compiled Laws, annotated.

The Department has been informed that one or both of the dams partially failed during a recent rain event, causing debris and flooding at downstream locations. We find that dams of this nature are inherently hazardous and cannot be permitted.

The Department therefore orders you to cease and desist all unauthorized activities at this location, and to restore the stream to a free-flow condition by removing all wood and brush forming the dams from the stream channel. All restoration work shall be completed no later than January 31,1998.

Please notify this office when the restoration has been completed so that a follow-up site inspection may be scheduled by our staff. Failure to comply with this request or any further unauthorized activity on the site may result in this case being referred for elevated enforcement
action. We anticipate and would appreciate your full cooperation in this matter. Please feel free to contact me at this office if you have any questions.

Sincerely,
David L. Price
District Representative
Land and Water Management Division

RESPONSE

Dear Mr. Price:
Re: DEQ File No. 97-59-0023; T11N, R10W, Sec 20; Montcalm County

Your certified letter dated 12/17/97 has been handed to me to respond to. You sent out a great deal of carbon copies to a lot of people, but you neglected to include their addresses. You will, therefore, have to send them a copy of my response.

First of all, Mr. Ryan De Vries is not the legal landowner and/or contractor at 2088 Dagget, Pierson, Michigan - I am the legal owner and a couple of beavers are in the (State unauthorized) process of constructing and maintaining two wood "debris" dams across the outlet stream of my Spring Pond. While I did not pay for, authorize, nor supervised their dam project, I think they would be highly offended that you call their skillful use of natural building materials "debris." I
would like to challenge your department to attempt to emulate their dam project any time and/or any place you choose. I believe I can safely state there is no way you could ever match their dam skills, their dam resourcefulness, their dam ingenuity, their dam persistence, their dam determination and/or their dam work ethic.

As to your request, I do not think the beavers are aware that they first must fill out a dam permit prior to the start of this type of dam activity. My first dam question to you is: (1) are you trying to discriminate against my Spring Pond Beavers or (2) do you require all beavers throughout this State to conform to said dam request? If you are not discriminating against these particular beavers, through the Freedom of Information Act I request completed copies of all those other
applicable beaver dam permits that have been issued. Perhaps we will see if there really is a dam violation of Part 301, Inland Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Michigan Compiled Laws, annotated.

I have several concerns. My first concern is - aren't the beavers entitled to legal representation? The Spring Pond Beavers are financially destitute and are unable to pay for said representation -
so the State will have to provide them with a dam lawyer. The Department's dam concern that either one or both of the dams failed during a recent rain event causing flooding is proof that this is a natural occurrence which the department is required to protect. In other words, we should leave the Spring Pond Beavers alone rather than harassing them and calling their dam names.

If you want the stream "restored" to a dam free-flow condition - please contact the beavers - but if you are going to arrest them (they obviously did not pay any attention to your dam letter-being unable to read English) - be sure they are read the Miranda rights first. As for me, I am not going to cause more flooding or dam debris jams by interfering with these dam builders. If you want to hurt these dam beavers-be aware I am sending a copy of your dam letter and this response to PETA. If your dam department seriously finds all dams of this nature inherently hazardous and truly will not permit their existence in this State-I seriously hope you are not selectively enforcing this dam policy - or once again both I and the Spring Pond Beavers will scream prejudice!

In my humble opinion, the Spring Pond Beavers have a right to build their unauthorized dams as long as the sky is blue, the grass is green and water flows downstream. They have more dam right than I do to live and enjoy Spring Pond. If the Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Protection lives to its name, it should protect the natural resources (Beavers) and the environment (Beavers' Dams).

So, as far as the beavers and I are concerned, this dam case can be referred for more elevated enforcement action right now. Why wait until 1/31/98? The Spring Pond Beavers may be under the dam ice then and there will be no way for you or your dam staff to contact/harass them then.

In conclusion, I would like to bring to your attention a real environmental quality (health) problem in the area. It is the bears. Bears are actually defecating in our woods. I definitely believe you
should be persecuting the defecating bears and leave the beavers alone. If you are going to investigate the beaver dam, watch your step! (The bears are not careful where they dump!)

Being unable to comply with your dam request, and being unable to contact you on your dam answering machine, I am sending this response to your dam office via another government organization - the dam USPS. Maybe, someday, it will get there.

Sincerely,
Stephen L. Tvedten

How to screw up an Interview?

We've all been interviewed for jobs. And, we've all spent most of those interviews thinking about what not to do. Don't bite your nails. Don't fidget. Don't interrupt. Don't belch. If we did any of the don'ts, we knew we'd disqualify ourselves instantly. But some job applicants go light years beyond this. We surveyed top personnel executives of 100 major American corporations and asked for stories of unusual behavior by job applicants.

The lowlights:

1. "... stretched out on the floor to fill out the job application."

2. "She wore a Walkman and said she could listen to me and the music at the same time."

3. " A balding candidate abruptly excused himself. Returned to office a few minutes later, wearing a hairpiece."

4. "... asked to see interviewer's resume to see if the personnel executive was qualified to judge the candidate."

5. "... announced she hadn't had lunch and proceeded to eat a hamburger and French fries in the interviewer's office - wiping the ketchup on her sleeve"

6. "Stated that, if he were hired, he would demonstrate his loyalty by having the corporate logo tattooed on his forearm."

7. "Interrupted to phone his therapist for advice on answering specific interview questions."

8. "When I asked him about his hobbies, he stood up and started tap dancing around my office."

9. "At the end of the interview, while I stood there dumbstruck, he went through my purse, took out a brush, brushed his hair, and left."

10. "... pulled out a Polaroid camera and snapped a flash picture of me. Said he collected photos of everyone who interviewed him."

11. "Said he wasn't interested because the position paid too much."


12. "While I was on a long-distance phone call, the applicant took out a copy of Penthouse, and looked through the photos only, stopping longest at the centerfold."

13. "During the interview, an alarm clock went off from the candidate's brief case. He took it out, shut it off, apologized and said he had to leave for another interview."

14. "A telephone call came in for the job applicant. It was from his wife. His side of the conversation went like this: "Which company? When do I start? What's the salary?" I said, "I
assume you're not interested in conducting the interview any further." He promptly responded, "I am as long as you'll pay me more. "I didn't hire him, but later found out there was no other job offer. It was a scam to get a higher offer."

15. "His attaché [case] opened when he picked it up and the contents spilled, revealing ladies' undergarments and assorted makeup and perfume."

16. "Candidate said he really didn't want to get a job, but the unemployment office needed proof that he was looking for one."

17. "... asked who the lovely babe was, pointing to the picture on my desk. When I said it was my wife, he asked if she was home now and wanted my phone number. I called security,"

18. "Pointing to a black case he carried into my office, he said that if he was not hired, the bomb would go off. Disbelieving, I began to state why he would never be hired and that I was going to call the police. He then reached down to the case, flipped a switch and ran. No one was injured, but I did need to get a new desk."

You know you are a Canadian if...

You know you are a Canadian if...

1. You stand in "line-ups" at the movie, not lines.

2. You're not offended by the term, "Homo Milk".

3. You understand the sentence, "Could you please pass me a serviette, I just spilled my poutine".

4. You eat chocolate bars instead of candy bars.

5. You drink pop, not soda.

6. You know what it means to be on pogey.

7. You know that a mickey and 2-4's mean "Party at the camp, eh!"

8. You can drink legally while still a 'teen.

9. You talk about the weather with strangers and friends alike.

10.You don't know or care about the fuss with Cuba, it's just a cheap place to travel with good cigars and no Americans.

11.When there is a social problem, you turn to your government to fix it instead of telling them to stay out of it.

12.You're not sure if the leader of your nation has EVER had sex and you don't want to know if he has!

13.You get milk in bags as well as cartons and plastic jugs.

14.Pike is a type of fish, not some part of a highway.

15.You drive on a highway, not a freeway.

16.You know what a Robertson screwdriver is.

17.You have Canadian Tire money in your kitchen drawers.

18.You know that Thrills are something to chew and "taste like soap".

19.You know that Mounties "don't always look like that".

20.You dismiss all beers under 6% as "for children and the elderly".

21.You know that the Friendly Giant isn't a vegetable product line.

22.You know that Casey and Finnegan are not a Celtic musical group.

23.You participated in "Participaction".

24.You have an Inuit carving by your bedside with the rationale,"What's good enough protection for the Prime Minister is good enough for me".

25.You wonder why there isn't a 5 dollar coin yet.

26.Unlike any international assassin/terrorist/spy in the world, you don't possess a Canadian passport.

27.You use a red pen on your non-Canadian textbooks and fill in the missing 'u's from labor, honor, and color.

28.You know the French equivalents of "free", "prize", and "no sugar added", thanks to your extensive education in bilingual cereal packaging.

29.You are excited whenever an American television show mentions Canada.

30.You make a mental note to talk about it at work the next day.

31.You can do all the hand actions to Sharon, Lois and Bram's "Skin-a-ma-rinky-dinky-doo" opus.

32.You can eat more than one maple sugar candy without feeling nauseous.

33.You were mad when "The Beachcombers" were taken off the air.

34.You know what a toque is.

35.You have some memento of Doug and Bob.

36.You know Toronto is not a province.

37.You never miss "Coaches Corner".

38.Back bacon and Kraft Dinner are two of your favourite food groups.