If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port, and the bus is interrupted at a very last resort, and the access of the memory makes your floppy disk abort, then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.
If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash, and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash, and your data is corrupted cause the index doesn’t hash, then your situation’s hopeless and your system’s gonna crash!
If the label on the cable on the table at your house, says the network is connected to the button on your mouse, but your packets want to tunnel to another protocol, that’s repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall,
And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss, so your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse; then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang, ‘cuz sure as I’m a poet, the sucker’s gonna hang.
When the copy on your floppy’s getting sloppy in the disk, and the macro code instructions cause unwanted risk, then you’ll have to flash the BIOS and you’ll want to RAM your ROM, just quickly turn the darn thing off and run to tell your Mom!
A woman went down to the Welfare Office to get aid. The office worker asked her, “How many children do you have?”
“Ten,” she replied.
“What are their names?” he asked.
“LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, LeRoy, and LeRoy,” she answered.
“They’re all named LeRoy?” he asked “What if you want them to come in from playing outside?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “I just call ‘LeRoy,’ and they all come running in.”
“And, if you want them to come to the table for dinner?”
“I just say, ‘LeRoy, come eat your dinner’,” she answered.
“But what if you just want ONE of them to do something?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “I just use their last name!”
There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer.
When asked to define “great” he said, “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!”
He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.
Little Lucy was playing in the garden when she spotted two spiders mating.
“Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?”
“They’re mating, Lucy” he replied.
“What do you call the spider on top, Daddy?” Lucy asked.
“Oh, that’s a Daddy Longlegs.”
Lucy asked, “Oh, so one’s a Daddy Longlegs and the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?”
Daddy replied, “No, both of them are Daddy Longlegs.”
Lucy thought for a moment, then took her foot and stamped them flat. “Well, we’re not having THAT sort of thing in our garden!”
A man was brought to Mercy Hospital, and taken quickly in for coronary surgery. The operation went well and, as the groggy man regained consciousness, he was reassured by a Sister of Mercy, who was waiting by his bed.
“Mr. Smith, you’re going to be just fine,” said the nun, gently patting his hand. “We do need to know, however, how you intend to pay for your stay here. Are you covered by insurance?”
“No, I’m not,” the man whispered hoarsely.
“Can you pay in cash?” persisted the nun.
“I’m afraid I cannot, Sister.”
“Well, do you have any close relatives?” the nun essayed.
“Just my sister in New Mexico,” he volunteered. “But she’s a humble spinster nun.”
“Oh, I must correct you, Mr. Smith. Nuns are not ‘spinsters;’ they are married to God.”
“Wonderful,” said Smith. “In that case, please send the bill to my brother-in-law.
A woman gets home, screeches her car into the driveway, runs into the house, slams the door and shouts at the top of her lungs: “Honey, pack your bags! I won the lottery!”
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