HuMoR - TIADA LogOn TANPA SENYUM ™

There can be only one

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the"loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.

Civic Luncheon

Some time ago, after an elaborate service at St. Paul's Cathedral in London, where servants of the empire were invested into the Knights of the Grand Cross of the Order of the British Empire, the Air Chief Marshal attended a civic luncheon given by the Lord Mayor of London. He found himself seated next to the Lady Mayoress, a very amply proportioned woman who was wearing her Mayoral chain and a red rose in her bosom.

The Air Chief Marshal, still wearing his robes and the gold chain of the Order, looked at the Mayoress' rose thoughtfully and, as he sat down next to her, said with a smile, "Lady Mayoress, if I were to pluck your rose, would you blush?"

"Marshal," replied the lady without hesitation, "and if I were to pull your chain, would you flush?"

Semester Burnout

SYMPTOMS OF SEMESTER BURNOUT!

When your parents inquire about your grades and you sing the cookie monster song (C is for cookie, that's good enough for me...)
You have spent more time figuring out that you only need a 54% on the final to pass than you have actually spent studying.
When you are swamped with homework and spend your time making up a list like this.
When you start showering after class rather than before.
The test papers are no longer worthy of the fridge door.
When the campus drunk tells you that you should study more.
When your favourite paperweight says "Bud Light".
Visions of the upcoming weekend help you to make it through Monday.
When your absence exceeds your attendance.
When your study schedule is based on the rationale that you "might" actually die before the test!

Making Music

Recently, the Minnesota Orchestra was doing Beethoven's Ninth under the baton of Milton Katims.....

Now at this point, you must understand two things:

There's a quite long segment in this symphony where the bass violins don't have a thing to do. Not a single note for page after page.
There is a night club right across the street from the Minnesota's Orchestra Hall, rather favored by local musicians.

It had been decided that during this performance, once the bass players had played their parts in the opening of the Ninth, they were to quietly lay down their instruments and leave the stage, rather than sit on their stools looking and feeling dumb for twenty minutes. Well, once they got backstage, someone suggested that they trot across the street and drink a few brews.

After they had downed the first couple rounds, one said, "Shouldn't we be getting back? It'd be awfully embarrassing if we were late."

Another, presumably the one who suggested this excursion in the first place, replied, "Oh, I anticipated we could use a little more time, so I tied a string around the last pages of the conductor's score. When he gets down to there, Milton's going to have to slow the tempo way down while he waves the baton with one hand and fumbles with the string with the other."

So they had another round, and finally returned to the Opera house, a little tipsy by now. However, as they came back on stage, one look at their conductor's face told them they were in serious trouble. Katims was furious! And why not? After all...

It was the bottom of the Ninth,
the basses were loaded,
and the score was tied.