Humour Feb 2007

I want to buy a software program that, when run, causes my computer to suffer grievously, though not permanently.

When my screen freezes or turns blue, I want a special button I can push to make the CPU start squealing like a pig.

I want a device that stores an electrical charge in my telephone. For every minute I spend on hold waiting for technical support to answer, the charge would increase in intensity. When the guy from tech support finally answers, the electrical bolt of energy would be discharged into him. This should not affect my ability to hear what’s going on at the other end of the line, of course.

And a special function would allow the volts to double every time a tape-recorded message urges me to continue holding. “Your call is important to us,” the caressing voice always claims.

I want my phone to be outfitted with a translation program which will reconstitute this irritating reminder into the truth: “Actually, we already have your money, so we couldn’t care less.”

Our technical support department consists of two college kids, both of whom are busy playing Doom. Eventually, one of them will come on the line, but it will be the one who doesn’t speak English.”

I want my modem to sense when my PC has committed an “illegal function” and issue a warrant to arrest Bill Gates.

When my system crashes and I lose a file that has taken me more than an hour to create, I want someone from the computer company to come out and retype it for me.

I don’t understand why new, “upgraded” software creates files that cannot be read by old, reliable software with the same name. Is there no one in the computer industry who has noticed that word processor files all look alike once they are open? Why can’t 6.0 recognise a 7.0 file? It’s all just words, isn’t it?

There should be a rule that when software engineers buy a new car, their old cars should cease to function. If they don’t understand why this is happening, they should call me and I will explain it to them.

I want to know why my printer always jams on the last piece of paper or the last sheet of checks. When this happens, it makes me want to put sandpaper into the manual feed and print the Emancipation Proclamation.

I am really tired of hearing about all the things that happened with Y2K. Why didn’t anybody ever ask these computer programmers how in the world they didn’t know the year 2000 would follow the year 1999? Software engineers are supposed to be pretty bright people - what did they need -a memo or something?

I bought a program that was supposed to tell me if my computer files are Y2K-compliant. The program wouldn’t work because - get this – my CD-ROM player is too old (I bought it 34 months ago). The manufacturer doesn’t sell an “updated driver.”

Thus, to find out if my computer is Y2K-compliant, I need to buy another computer.

Now I’ve learned that my PC no longer “recognises” my floppy drive! How could they not recognise each other? They live together in the same little box!

Two shepherds were leaning on their crooks at the end of a long, hard day of shepherding. The first asked the second, “So, how’s it going?”

The second one sighed and shook his head. “Not good, I can’t pay my bills, my health isn’t good, my kids don’t respect me, and my wife is leaving me.”

The first shepherd replies, “Well, don’t lose any sheep over it.”

On some air bases the Air Force uses one side of the field, civilian aircraft uses the other, and the control tower is in the middle. One day the tower received a call from an aircraft asking, “What time is it?”

The tower responded, “Who is calling?”

The aircraft replied, “What difference does it make?”

The tower replied “It makes a lot of difference. If it is an American Airlines flight, it is 3 o’clock. If it is an Air Force plane, it is 1500 hours. If it is a Navy aircraft, it is 6 bells. If it is an Army aircraft, the big hand is on the 12 and the little hand is on the 3. If it is a Marine Corps aircraft, it’s Thursday afternoon.”

Having just moved into his new office, a pompous new colonel was sitting at his desk when an aviator knocked on the door.

Conscious of his new position, the colonel quickly picked up the phone, told the aviator to enter, and then said into the phone, “Yes, General, I’ll be seeing him this afternoon and I’ll pass along your message. In the meantime, thank you for your good wishes, sir.” Feeling as though he had now sufficiently impressed the young enlisted man, he asked, “What do you want?”

“Nothing important, sir,” the aviator replied. “I’m here to hook up your telephone.”