beth@sphinx.UChicago.UUCP (Beth Christy) (10/07/85)
[There is a joke in this posting. Hang in, you'll find it.] From: lauren@vortex.UUCP (Lauren Weinstein), Message-ID: <827@vortex.UUCP>: >I'll bet that Beth is the sort of person who would try watch >"Plan 9 From Outer Space" and turn it off after 10 minutes >saying, "Gee, that's a dumb movie... why do people think it's >so funny?" "Plan 9 From Outer Space" - is that perchance Reagan's last ditch Star Wars scenario? Oh, PlanET 9? Oh. Well, actually, now that you mention it, I DO have to be in a peculiar mood (like maybe stoned) to enjoy such movies. But there is a difference. "Plan(et) 9 From Outer Space" is not entitled "Stupid Space Movie". I find that people who explicitly stand up and shout "Hey, look over here, I'm being stupid" are usually right. I like a Little more subtlety, thank you. But hey, for folks who enjoy being bludgeoned over the head with inanity, Lauren's right: Science Made Stupid is the book for you. (BTW, what I referred to in my last posting as the "home geiger counter" was actually a home earthquake detector/Richter scale, and I Did think that was fairly amusing. Oh well.) Humorous books that I prefer include Roz Chast's _Unscientific Americans (Collect 'Em All)_ and _Parallel Universes_, and most of Gary Larson's _The Far Side_ books. The Sylvia series by Nicole Hollander is pretty terrific too. PLUS, as an Extra Added Attraction for you folks in net.jokes, here's A Joke: So it's yet another Saturday night, and Mike has nothing to do. He's just kind of aimlessly driving along when he passes a billboard that says, in big red letters: "THREE MILES TO GRANDMA'S WHOREHOUSE". Somewhat taken aback, Mike continues down the highway. Coupla miles later, sure enough, there's another billboard that says, in big red letters: "ONE MILE TO GRANDMA'S WHOREHOUSE", and there's a big red arrow pointing to the right along a narrow dirt road. Well, Mike figures what the hell, he's got nothing better to do, so he turns onto the dirt road. 'Bout a mile later, sure enough, there's a house off to the right with a sign in the front yard that says, in big red letters: "THIS IS IT! YOU ARE HERE! GRANDMA'S WHOREHOUSE". Somewhat bemused, Mike pulls over in front of the house, walks up to the front door and rings the bell. A small old women peers out the window for a moment, then opens the door. "Kin I help you, sonny?" "Uh, is this Grandma's Whorehouse?" "Yes, it is." "Uh, good, well, um, how much do I owe you?" "That'd be twenty-five dollars, sonny." "Oh, ok, here." "Thank you, sonny." "Um, well, uh, where do I go?" "Oh, oh yes. You go up these stairs, through the door on your right, down the long hallway, second door on the left is where you want to go." "Oh, great, thanx." Smiling expectantly, rubbing his hands together, Mike goes up the stairs, through the door on his right, down the long hallway, opens the second door on the left, turns around to close the door, turns around and ... he's outside. Confused, he turns around to go back in. But the door's locked and, sure enough, there's a sign on the door that says, in big red letters: "YOU'VE JUST BEEN SCREWED BY GRANDMA". -- --JB (Beth Christy, U. of Chicago, ..!ihnp4!gargoyle!sphinx!beth) "What if the after-effect of the terrible bomb is unusual beyond belief? Wouldn't you rather the whole population had listened to somebody like the old Indian chief?" (The Roches)