Jenkins

Jenkins!  Get in my office!

Sir?

Jenkins... I'm looking at the report you turned in... And I'm not impressed.

Sorry, Sir.  What seems to be the problem?

This planet you recommended for invasion... Isn't it 70% water?

Yes, Sir.

SEVENTY.  PERCENT.  WATER.

Sir?

And aren't we, as a species, mortally wounded by water?

Ahhhh... Right.  I had completely forgot all about that.

I'm mean... C'mon... We're talking about a full scale PLANETARY INVASION here.  You don't just wing it.  A lot of planning has to go into these things. Pay attention to the chemistry and composition reports next time.

Yes, Sir.  Sorry Sir.

What will the humans think of us if we invade a planet then have to turn around simply because we can't handle what appears to be one of their most abundant resources?

Not very much, Sir.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to make me look bad.

Loan Request

"So I understand you're looking for a loan?"

"Yes."

"For your... Video game company?  Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"OK then... Have you ever run a company before?"

"No."

"Have ever worked in the video game industry?"

"Ah... no."

"Well... How about a related technology field?"

"Also no."

"So... What relevant skills are you bringing to the table here?"

"None, really."

"And what was your previous job?"

"I used to throw a baseball for a living."

"OK.  I'm convinced.  Here's $100 million."

NPR Announces Shift to "All Fund-raising" Format

National Public Radio (NPR) has announced plans to replace all original programming with fund-raising messages.

Instead of international news, culture, human interest stories and left-leaning talk, member stations will now broadcast pleas for money all the time.

"National Public Radio has always depended on listeners for the majority of our budget," said Vivian Schiller, President of NPR. "While we used to limit pledge drives to three or four months out of the year, we have found that our listening audience actually responds to a constant barrage of messages about the importance of their support. Time and time again, they call in when we tell them about tote bags and umbrellas that they can have for a $75 donation. Or a Springsteen CD that they can have for pledging $120 (which is only $10 a month for a year). So we figured, what the hell? Give them what they want. Besides, do you know how much it costs to send someone to Afghanistan?"

"Morning Edition" will be replaced by "Steve Inskeep and Renee Montagne Ask You for Money". The "All Things Considered" slot will be taken by "Holy Crap, We're Asking You For Money Again".

The only interruptions to the constant requests for money will be for the occasional announcement of the underwriters who make it possible to bring you this fine programming.

If They Would Just Make Chocolate Chip NyQuil, I Wouldn't Have This Problem...


"Do you have another card? Or cash? This one is being denied."

"Not on me. Could you try it again?"

"Yup... Still denied."

"It's my medical flexible spending card. It should work. There's plenty of money in the account."

"Umm... Sir? You can only put medically necessary items on an FSA. These aren't all HEALTH RELATED items."

"Sure they are."

"Even these cookies?"

"Yes... They're medically necessary chocolate chip cookies."

"I don't think so."

"OK... I'm going to go back to my doctor and get a prescription for those cookies. And THEN you'll feel silly, won't you?"

"OK. Good luck with that."

Holodeck Tech Support

Umm... Hello? This is Chief O'Brien... calling from The Enterprise, customer number 42799. I believe we've spoken on the subspace channel before. We're... uh... still having problems with our Holodeck, even after putting in the latest service pack like you suggested.

I mean, it's one thing if Lieutenant Barclay gets himself stuck in the damn thing for hours at a time. But last week, one of our crew members got himself shot in the leg. Apparently the safety protocols somehow got turned off for some gangster program. Heck, we've even had Holodeck characters come to life, leave the Holodeck and think they were real people. That doesn't even make any sense. How does that happen? Are any of your other customers having these problems?

We've tried rebooting it. We've applied the latest patches and hot fixes. It's still causing problems. If it's something you can't repair, the Captain says he'll have the whole thing ripped out next time we dock.

So, uh, if you could give as a call back as soon as possible to set up a tech support visit on site, that would be much appreciated.

Once again... O'Brien... Enterprise... Customer number 42799.

It Probably Went Something Like This

England, 1809. Four well dressed gentleman walk the countryside on a hunting expedition.

Gentleman 1: My good fellows, I'm almost finished with my latest batch of dogs. You will be amazed at their loyalty and affection, and their capacity for absolutely disgusting behavior. Put your orders in now, for they will go fast. And if you have any last minute requests for desired traits or characteristics, please let me know.

Gentleman 2: My brother-in-law has a dog that sniffs butts and licks his own balls. Will you be able top that?

Gentleman 1: Absolutely. My new breed will go well beyond mere butt sniffing and ball licking.

Gentleman 3: I need a dog that will clean up after my cat. Can you breed me a dog that will happily eat cat feces?

Gentleman 1: Consider it done.

Gentleman 4: Well, I certainly want one of these dogs. But I'll be redecorating my hunting lodge next season, and we haven't picked out the tapestries yet. Can you make sure that I'll have a choice of colors?

Gentleman 1: How about if I give a choice of THREE colors?

(All 3 other Gentleman): Ooooh!

Gentleman 2: What about hunting? Will I still be able to take this dog hunting? Or will it only lie about and be disgusting?

Gentleman 1: Do you prefer land hunting or water hunting?

Gentleman 2: Hmmm... How about both?

Gentleman 1: No problem. It will be a Grade A hunter, on both land and water. And yet still lovable. And disgusting.

Gentleman 3: What about vomit? Will it clean up its own vomit? I can't stand watching my servants pick up dog vomit.

Gentleman 1: This dog will LOVE its own vomit.

Gentleman 4: And what of temperament? It must be agreeable.

Gentleman 1: Of course.

Gentleman 2: I have a fallen tree in my back yard that I need ground up into small pieces. Would this amazing animal of yours be able to handle that, too?

Gentleman 1: I believe so. Any other requests? No? OK then. So, just to recap, you want a dog that will hunt, swim, eat its own vomit, clean up cat feces, chew up entire trees, and yet still be lovable and agreeable?

Gentleman 4: Don't forget the colors!

Gentleman 1: ...and come in different colors.

(All 3 Gentleman): Yes!

Gentleman 1: Consider it done.

Gentleman 2: Well, I must say I'm impressed. If you can deliver on half of your promises, surely this will be a dog for the ages.

Gentleman 1: It will be. I'm quite confident I can bring all these traits together in one amazingly disgusting, yet lovable beast.


And so today, that is why the world has Labrador Retrievers.

(Gentleman 1 may very well have been the Earl of Malmesbury. For all we know, this is how it actually happened...)

Late one night on Yawkey Way...

Theo: (in between tokes) Guys... How about we put together a $160 million team... with... No closer!

Jed: Dude!

Ben: No way!

Theo: (inhales again, passes to Jed) I'm totally serious. We'll put a great lineup together... With one of the best starting rotations in the league... And just ignore the bullpen entirely.

Jed: Whoa... (takes a big hit). That's fucked up.

Ben: What will we tell people our plan is?

Theo: I don't know... We'll just make it up as we go.

Ben: How 'bout we say "We expect Pineiro or Tavarez to win the closer's job in spring training"?

Theo: Sure. That could work. (cough cough)

Jed: Man, this must be some good shit. I could have sworn I just heard you say Tavarez could be the closer.

Theo: I did.

Jed: You just blew my mind.

Sunday

I wait until there's no one else around. I casually make my way to the meat counter. There's an elderly lady around the corner inspecting cat food, but I'm not too concerned about her.

I've never done this before, but I'm pretty sure this place doesn't just sell lunch meats. The guy behind the counter makes eye contact with me and nods to let me know I'm next.

"So, uh, could I put $100 on your weekly special?"

"You want $100 worth of Black Forest Ham? Really?"

"No, uh... You know... Your, um, SPECIAL of the week?" I say "special" slowly and clearly, thinking maybe he'll catch my meaning this time.

"Well, I don't know know if I even have $100 worth of ham. I'll have to go out back and check. Are you having a party or something this weekend?"

"No, I mean, your special game of the week." I worry I'm blowing it. Either he thinks I'm a cop, or they really don't take bets here.

"What?! This is a deli, son. We've only got meats and potato salad here."

"You sure you don't take bets? I wanted to put a little action on the Sunday night game."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Then how do you guys manage to stay open? There's never anyone here. I thought for sure you must be taking bets."

"Get outta my store."

"Are you selling fireworks or something?"

"Out, NOW!"