Your computer is so old!

  • Your computer is so old, it has a rotary modem.
  • The ISP is Pony Express.
  • The hard drive doesn’t work without Viagra.
  • I wanted to install more memory, but I didn’t have another papyrus scroll.
  • The virus scanner just found the black plague.
  • It burned a DVD at the stake.
  • If you want to reboot, you have to take it to a cobbler.
  • The monitor is a granite slab with the word “AOL” engraved on it.
  • The webcam is Vincent van Gogh.
  • The email app is a guy who can yell really loud.

Kid Happy Vs. Adult Happy

My coworker brought her little boy into the office, and he was playing with a big, rubber ball with Sponge Bob on it. He was throwing it and chasing it and laughing his little head off.  That ball probably cost three bucks. I have a two thousand dollar computer at home that has never made me that happy.

But maybe that’s because my computer isn’t just for games. I also have to use it to pay bills and taxes. Maybe the kid wouldn’t think his ball was so fun if it occasionally knocked him down and stole his lunch money.

Countermeasures

I

t was around my fourth or fifth win that I noticed casino security watching me. A gigantic man in a black turtleneck was casually chatting with other players, but every time I put down a bet, his shaved, bullet-shaped head turned my way. I could feel him probing the area with his mind, the energy sparking across the table like static electricity. My winning streak was about to end.

The fact that the guard could focus his mind was nothing short of astounding. From the nonstop flashing, dinging, and buzzing of the slot machines to the quarter-scale roller coaster, The Big Queen, running continuously a hundred feet over the players’ heads to the showgirls strolling the floor in costumes with hardly enough cloth to cover a Barbie doll, everything in The Royal Giant Casino added up to one big distraction. It was a wonder that anyone could concentrate long enough to place a bet.

I was doing my best to blend in with the other players. I was dressed as your typical Vegas tourist in my Giants cap, a gaudy Hawaiian shirt, and some oversized sunglasses that, I had hoped, would keep anyone from recognizing me. But apparently it hadn’t worked. You win a little too often, at too many places, and people start to get suspicious.

It was time to make one last bet before I cleared out. Better make it a big one. I placed eight thousand dollars on twenty-three, half my night’s winnings. The dealer called “no more bets” and spun the wheel. He carefully placed the little, ivory ball, spinning it in the other direction. The ball gradually lost momentum, bouncing across the numbered slots, its dance finally coming to an end in twenty-three.

The dealer called “Black thirty-five!” I was about to protest, but sure enough, the ball was now sitting in the next slot over. Somehow, it had moved.

“Looks like a TK,” I thought. I scanned the other player’s bets. A few people had won low-paying outside bets, black beating red,or odd beating even, but no one had bet on thirty-five. “It must be the guard. He’s not just psychic security – he’s a counter-psy.” Read more…

Holding Back The Dark

Three little girls, each smiling so sweetly,
All brushed their teeth and combed their hair neatly
They crawled into their beds and said goodnight
And then their dear mother turned out the light

It was Mommy and Daddy’s monthly date
Dinner and dancing would keep them out late
So they called a school girl with bright red hair
To watch the kids while they wouldn’t be there

The sitter said “Goodbye, go have a ball!”
And went to the kitchen to make a call
She ordered pizza, two extra larges
And headed off to check on her charges

But in the girls’ bedroom, something was wrong
The smell of sulfur, a strange, whispered song,
The girls snapped upright and threw back the sheets
Now was the time to stop being so sweet

They leaped out of bed and grabbed the sitter
Pulled out her hair and hit her and hit her
They tied her with ropes and dragged her upstairs
And chained her to an old, broken chair

The three little girls played a wicked game
Calling things from afar that have no name
Standing in the attic, they drew a star,
A nine-horned goat, and a woman with scars

They summoned a creature with their dark curse
That holds back the edge of the universe
A wall between us and our unknown fears
Keeping out the ones that ache to be here

The attic walls vanished, darkness crawled in
A thing with knives living under its skin
A sound like wind, and vast wings being spread
The girls gave a name to this nameless dread

“It’s not time for bed, and not time for tea,
It’s time to join Mother Eternity
Mother dwells in between her world and ours
And holds back the things from beyond the stars

“Don’t act so frightened, you little coward
Now it’s time for you to be devoured
I’m glad it will be you instead of me
Dying for our Mother Eternity”

The girls grabbed her throat and long knives slit her
And silenced the screams of their poor sitter
And the creature dragged her to a new place
Outside of time, and beyond all of space

It tore her flesh with teeth without number
And retired for another year’s slumber
Until the girls would stop acting so nice
And bring it a new sitter sacrifice

Roscoe and the Anti-Television

O

ne night, in the middle of an October thunderstorm, a raindrop ripped a hole in the sky. This raindrop was different, as big as a freight train and made of silver. It dropped through the hole and fell without a sound. At one thousand feet, it froze, hanging in the air. Far below it stood a ramshackle farm house, broken shingles and cracked windows barely keeping out the rain.

From its pointed tip came a beam of blue light. The light pierced one bedroom window, then the other. The raindrop turned and sent another beam of light to the far side of the farm. The light vanished and the hole in the sky sealed shut. The raindrop hid behind a cloud, waiting. Read more…

My friend thinks he’s psychic…

My friend thinks he’s psychic because, whenever the phone rings, he knows who’s calling, even before he answers it. That’s not psychic; that’s caller ID. What would be really impressive is if he saw his mom was calling, and immediately knew why she was disappointed.

Severed Head

A woman gets a call from the police. “We found a body, and we think it may be your husband. Does your husband have a mohawk, a glass eye, and two gold teeth?”

She says “Yes.” So, the police call her in to take a look at the body.

When she gets to the police station, the “body” is just a severed head. But, the head has a mohawk, a glass eye, and two gold teeth.

The woman looks at the body and says “That’s not my husband.”

The police officer says, “What do you mean that’s not your husband? You said your husband had a mohawk, a glass eye, and two gold teeth, and so does this guy. How can that not be your husband?”

And the woman says, “He’s too short.”

Johnny Cahooter, Computer Rebooter

The Big Boss sat down at his computing machine
And he pressed the go-goer, a button of green.
But the go never went, and the screen stayed dark black,
And Big Boss nearly suffered his third heart attack.

“Oh what should I do now?” Big Boss cried with dismay.
“Computing’s confusing, though I do it each day!
Perhaps I should learn how, after all of these years;
Or just crawl under my desk and cry these sad tears.”

The Time Clock struck nine, and in trudged the commuters,
And the Corporate Board, those old three-piece-suiters,
And sycophants, suck-ups, and Big Boss saluters,
And the I.T. technician, Johnny Cahooter.

“Soon I’ll be in such trouble!” lamented Big Boss.
“If I don’t finish payroll, the staff will be cross!
I’ll have the IT guy scoot in on his scooter,
That computer wizard, that Johnny Cahooter!”

Johnny had to wrestle antique printers that jammed,
And comfort an intern evil spammers had spammed,
And retrieve vital files the receptionist tossed,
But he had to come now, or his job would be lost!

So sighing and yawning, that Johnny Cahooter
Zipped into the room on his small, silver scooter.
“Well, what do you need now?” Johnny said to the boss,
“Shall I wipe off your nose, maybe help you to floss?”

“My computing machine,” the boss said with a hiss,
“It won’t bleep and won’t bloop! There is something amiss!”
“It’s simple,” said Johnny, as he scratched at his chin,
“You’ve forgotten to plug the bleep – blooping thing in!”

The More Things Change

“And then, to get at your grandmother’s brain, I would saw off the top of her skull.” Paul smiled at the sea of horrified faces. His students found twentieth century medicine utterly barbaric. Just hearing about historical surgery was disturbing, but he had also provided three dimensional illustrations. Poking a finger into the projection, he pulled the image out of the way and the next one slid up into view. “Today, it’s much simpler. The latest magnetometers can detect the magnetic field emitted by your brain from clear across the room. Direct electrical stimulation of the hippocampus can cause you to rapidly relive your memories as your life literally flashes before your eyes. We record the electrical activity of these memories, and…”

Christine was in the front row again. This week, her hair was pink. Her skirt was black and silver, a starry sky wrapped around her legs. Apparently she had just come from art class. Her neck and arms were sprinkled with blue specks, the results of her frantic, almost violent painting style. It looked as if the air conditioning were on too high again. She had goosebumps down her arms, and her nipples were… Read more…

House of 1,000 Doors

House of a Thousand Doors

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. The ring had become a chain around his neck. She was supposed to be this grand gift from the universe, this reward to make up for a lifetime of pain, and she almost was. But now, he was being dragged somewhere he’d never intended to go.

Veronica was kind and sweet and never criticized. She was the first woman Kurt had ever dated who didn’t accuse him of having Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder because he liked to keep his life running smoothly. “But she has someone else…” The words echoed in his mind as he snapped the empty ring box open and closed. How could she expect a man to share his fiancée?

Read more…