Came across the following fortune cookies in a box of Italian chocolates over the weekend.
The night is silent, and in its silence dreams are hidden
Love me because without you I can do nothing, I am nothing
You shine in my heart like the moon in the night sky
Let us enjoy our love as long as we may
A magical night of bliss begins and ends with a kiss
This must be the most brilliant t-shirt I think I’ve ever come across!
From New Scientist, 3 March 2007 …
Viral notices
At the end of last year, we voiced the fear that we are being exploited by viral notices for the purposes of propagating themselves (16 December 2006). Lindsay Brash observes that the notice we mentioned then — “Please do not remove this notice until 23rd July” — “demonstrates the rapid evolution of viruses and the sophisticated tricks they can employ on their hosts. By stating a date, the notice fools humans into thinking it must be legitimate, and they let it be.”
In fact, Brash goes on, it’s even cleverer than that: people “are so gullible that they are not likely to remove it until some time after the stated date. But by then they will forget when they first saw it and, to be safe, leave it until the next 23 July. Fantastic!”
And in James Penketh’s school there is a notice with an even more subtle survival strategy: inducing complete cognitive breakdown. It reads “Take no notice of this notice. By Order.” If he took no notice of this notice, he asks, “would I know to take no notice of it?”
Justin Needham, meanwhile, has found an example of the suicide notice: “Please leave these facilities as you would wish to find them”. Every time he spots one, he writes, “I am tempted (and sometimes succumb) to tear it down. That’s better, just how I wish to find the facilities — with no patronising notices.”
Reported to me by an acquaintance a guy on a radio programme yesterday saying that his boss had asked him to:
come down and throw a few things in the ideas wok and stir-fry up some solutions.
I’m just speechless.
Marketing Explained
Marketing the buzz word in today’s business world is MARKETING. However, people often ask for a simple explanation of “Marketing.” Well, here it is:
1. You’re a woman and you see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and say, “I’m fantastic in bed.”
That’s Direct Marketing.
2. You’re at a party with a bunch of friends and see a handsome guy. One of your friends goes up to him and, pointing at you, says, “She’s fantastic in bed.”
That’s Advertising.
3. You see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and get his telephone number. The next day you call and say, “Hi, I’m fantastic in bed.”
That’s Telemarketing.
4. You see a guy at a party; you straighten your dress. You walk up to him and pour him a drink. You say, “May I?” and reach up to straighten his tie, brushing your breast lightly against his arm, and then say, “By the way, I’m fantastic in bed.”
That’s Public Relations.
5. You’re at a party and see a handsome guy. He walks up to you and says, “I hear you’re fantastic in bed.”
That’s Brand Recognition.
6. You’re at a party and see a handsome guy. He fancies you, but you talk him into going home with your friend.
That’s a Sales Rep.
7. Your friend can’t satisfy him so he calls you.
That’s Tech Support.
8. You’re on your way to a party when you realise that there could be handsome men in all these houses you’re passing, so you climb onto the roof of one situated towards the centre and shout at the top of your lungs, “I’m fantastic in bed!”
That’s Junk Mail!
1. What do you try to stay away from?
Germs, crowds, the London Underground, buses (yeuch!)
2. Are you clumsy or graceful?
Clumsy.
3. What is it too late for?
Getting somewhere in life. Making a real difference. A decent pension.
4. What/who was your first love?
Sandra Shorer. I think we were eight; maybe as old as ten. She wasn’t interested. OMG that’s a lifetime ago; nearly 50 years!
5. Friday fill in:I believe that the sun will turn green in 38 days time.
[Brought to you courtesy of Friday Fiver]
According to BBC Focus magazine the 10 most loathed inventions of all time are (in reverse order):
10. Religion
9. Speed cameras
8. Fast food
7. Television
6. Cigarettes
5. The car
4. Sinclair C5
3. Nuclear power
2. Mobile phones
1. Weapons
Do not ask how they arrive at this conclusion. I can see why most of these things get on the list, even if I personally wouldn’t have nominated them. However I wouldn’t even have thought to mention the Sinclair C5, it was so pathetically a no-hoper, let alone put it in the top ten most loathed. I’d far rather see things like politics, the aeroplane, the iPod, non-essential plastic surgery and fireworks on the list. But what do I know: I’m an educated thinker!? 🙁
From last week’s New Scientist:
Patent protection for jokes
“YOU cannot be serious,” tennis ace John McEnroe famously shouted when the umpire ruled one of his shots as “out”. Reader John Mulligan suspects that the patent officer felt the same way about Timothy Wace Roberts’s patent application for a “Business method protecting jokes”.
The abstract of his US patent office application 200602593306 opens: “The specification describes a method of protecting jokes by filing patent applications therefor, and gives examples of novel jokes to be thus protected. Specific jokes to be protected by the process of the invention include stories about animals playing ball games, in which alliteration is used in the punchline; a scheme for raising money for charity by providing dogs for carriage by Underground passengers; and the joke that consists in filing a patent application to protect jokes.”
We don’t know what the first jokes referred to are, but suspect the second relates to notices beside London Underground escalators saying “Dogs must be carried”. As for the third – does this mean Wace Roberts’ patent application is evidence of “prior art”, making itself invalid – or is it valid and in breach of itself?
I just love weird instructions for appliances so here’s another piece from Feedback in this week’s New Scientist, which I have slightly shortened:
… [X] does not tell us how he came to be in possession of a Fibre Optic Musical Animated Fairy “of unknown provenance”, but he does tell us that, despite being a retired professor of modern languages, he is baffled by the instructions that came with it for changing its bulb. …
“Operating Synopsis. If the bulb not brightness, make use of the reserve bulb elucidate as follows: 1. Turn off electrical source. 2. Fetch out the lampholder. 3. Troll the broken bulb, fetch out of it. 4. Setting in reserve bulb, troll the bulb without a reel or stagger. 5. Revert the lampholder.”
This week New Scientist printed some of the runner-up entries in their New Year Competition. The challenge was to compose a text message of no more than 160 characters, sent home by an alien who has just arrived on our planet. Of this batch I especially liked:
Too late. Another one overrun by Starbucks.
Humans are not conscious beings but remote-controlled by little boxes pressed to the head or wires plugged into their ears.
This planet, mostly harmless, is chiefly remarkable for providing the best evidence so far that the limit of 160 characters on SMS messages is a universal const
Natives wonderful. Send ketchup.
Full article here. Enjoy!
