Posts filed under 'humor'
I love this humorous comment on youtube:
Look at your comment, now back to mine. Now back at your comment now back to mine. Sadly it isn’t mine, but if you stopped trolling and started posting legitimate comments it could look like mine. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re scrolling through comments, writing the comment your comment could look like. What did you post? Back at mine, it’s a reply saying something you want to hear. Look again the reply is now diamonds. Anything is possible when you think before you post.
August 25th, 2010
Their brain turns into Apple sauce.
May 10th, 2008
Many years ago, I was having lunch with a bunch of friends who were doing a Ph.D in Computer Science with a focus in theory and algorithms. And somehow the conversation got around to talking about various practical algorithms. So I, of course, said:
You want an algorithm that finishes in a finite amount of time.
So to set the record straight, almost 8 years after the fact, what I wanted to say was:
You want an algorithm that terminates in a reasonable amount of time otherwise it might as well never terminate.
March 19th, 2007
There is this great old joke that I learned. It goes like this:
Jimmy, a Greek-American, gets no respect. So he gets the bright idea that to get respect he needs to join the mob. The only problem is that as a Greek-American he knows nothing about the mob or anyone in the mob. Every time he asks his Italian-American friends about the mob, they keep telling him: There is no such thing as the Mafia.
Jimmy, being an enterprising young lad decides to go to Italy to find someone who knows something about the mob. After two years of trying and getting nowhere he finally returns to the USA.
Back in Astoria, his friends ask him: So Jimmy, what did you learn about the Mafia? Jimmy responds: There is no such thing as the Mafia. And with that his friends started to accord him every kind of respect.
The funny part of this story is that the FBI and the police were no better for about 50 years. Starting in the 1930’s when the Mafia transformed itself from a street gang to a real powerful organization and ending in the late 70’s, the Mafiosi worked with impunity. No one knew of their existence. No one knew who their leaders were. No one tried to arrest them. The laws that were required to arrest them (RICO) did not even exist making a made man a criminal that could never be put behind bars. The Feds in the 1980’s when they actually started to take the mob seriously ended up arresting the wrong Capo of the Genovese three times.
This is a book of the history of the Mob. The author, Selwyn Raab, is a journalist and not a historian so the book suffers from all of the flaws a history book written by a journalist suffers. It’s breathless, opinionated, dependent on first person accounts, full of conjectures and questionable assertions. However, like all great journalism it creates a sense of immediacy. This is not a scholarly treatment of the Mob.
What is interesting is that Mr. Raab is extremely frustrated with the media and how the media treats the Mob. He finds them to be a despicable organization of vultures and parasites that prey on the weak. To Mr. Raab, the notion that there is something romantic about the mob is abhorrent. A significant chunk of the text is devoted to this rant against the media.
Where the book is weak is in the history of the period starting in 1900 and ending in 1980. Where the book is strongest is in the period beginning in 1980 and ending with the present day. This is the period that Mr. Raab covered as a reporter and a significant chunk of the book reads like a re-capitulation of his notes from trials and from conversations with insiders.
I liked the book. What I found most interesting was how powerful and how invisible the mob really was. And how the notion that there are vast powerful conspiracies of men that we don’t know about is not that absurd, given how little we as a country knew about the power of the mob. Maybe the black helicopters and the tri-lateral commission really do exist …
March 13th, 2007
After Disney butchered Hercules, and after Wolfgang Peterson destroyed the greatest book of Western civilization with Troy, and especially after Alexander the Great, I was in no mood to watch the 300.
But I was not expecting to be offended by the reviewers reactions to the facts of the event.
To the San Jose Mercury News Reviewer: The phrase: Come back carrying your shield or on it, is not a cheesy line by a bad screenwriter. The line is exactly what the Spartan women told their men as they left for war.
March 10th, 2007
I lift up the rug.
Breadcrumbs and a piece of cheese.
Superbowl party.
February 25th, 2007
One the endearing traits about Google employees that went to Google straight out of school is that they have a distorted idea of what the rest of the world is like.
Recently a friend of mine told the following tale:
Because of the solar panels in the main parking lot, a couple of days ago I had to park far away and took the shuttle to get to my building. While I was in the shuttle I overheard the following conversation:
Google Employee 1: Back when SGI had these buildings there was a lot more parking space so you didn’t have to park so far out.
Google Employee 2: Wow, the valets must have been really bored.
Good Lord, what will these people do when they leave this bubble?
February 3rd, 2007
Recently a bunch of computer scientists were arguing over the correct name for an entity that non techies would use. They proposed something foograph. This was quickly discarded, but it once again demonstrated the chasm between the computer scientist and the rest of the world.
Rest of humanity:
A graph is a plot of data
Computer Scientists:
A graph G(V(G), E(G)) consists of a set vertices, denoted by V(G) and a set of Edges denoted by E(G) such that each edge contains two distinct vertices in V(G).
For proof look at this screen shot:
December 26th, 2006
When I came back from my 3 week vacation, I discovered that Vision had disappeared. He was no where to be found. All that was left was Roadmap and Strategy. I asked what happened. My co-workers explained that Vision just disappeared one day. The consultant explained that Roadmap and Strategy consumed Vision. That this was a common phenomenon. That I should not be distressed.
My management team said I should be happy that Roadmap and Strategy were still in place.
My wife said we could always get a new Vision.
Oh well. I suppose I’ll have to go to the fish store to get a replacement for the Skirt Tetra that died…
September 24th, 2006
Several years ago, my dad had his Mercedes stolen.
On the day it was stolen, as part of the process for getting his money from the insurance company he was required to place an advertisement in the Greek Newspaper of his choice announcing the loss and asking people if they found it. This is a pro-forma task, that is usually followed by a modest insurance payout.
Surprisingly, the thief called and said on the phone:
Prof. Roussos, I am a serious business man, a respected man of society. Stealing your car is an inconvenience to us both. I have to take it to Albania to get it cut into little pieces to resell the parts, you have to buy a new car. How about we arrive at an understanding? You pay a modest fee and I’ll return the car.
My dad agreed on condition that he see the car first.
So my dad was taken along with a bodyguard to see the car. Upon inspecting the car he discovered that the car had some scratches and was dirty.
When the thief called later, my dad complained about the defects. The thief replied:
Damn! I’ve told my employees not to damage the customers merchandise. I’ll make sure it’s fixed before you get the car.
Several days later the exchange was done. There was an aura of cloak & dagger about it. The money was placed near a phone booth in Athens, and then in another part of Athens the Merc was returned.
But the story does not end here.
Several months later, my dad got a phone call:
Journalist: Are you Professor Roussos?
Dad: Yes.
Journalist: I am a journalist for a ****.
Dad: Careful. What do you want?
Journalist: Did you have your car stolen and then returned for a ransom fee?
Dad: Why?
Journalist: Apparently the same crook stole all of my belongings and my car. He offered to return everything for a modest fee. When I started to doubt his honour, he suggested I call you up. That you would act as a reference for him. That he is an honourable man who will return my stuff.
So my dad told him that he was an honourable thief. And who ever said there is no honour among thives.
July 3rd, 2006
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