Okay, let's try a few of these. Here's my contribution.
A gorgeous blonde and her husband in New York City was listening to the radio.
"There is a winter storm alert posted. The city is expected to get six inches of snow. By order of the Mayor, all cars are to be parked only on the left hand side of the street to facilitate snow removal."
The blonde went and parked the car on the left hand side of the street.
The snow came and was in due course plowed. The car was dug out and life continued. Two days later, the blonde was listening to the weather report again.
"There is another winter storm warning posted. Predictions are for eight inches of snow. By order of the Mayor, all cars are to park on the right hand side of the street only, to facilitate plowing out after the storm."
The blonde went and parked the car on the right hand side of the street. Sure enough, New York got eight inches of snow and was plowed out. Her husband dug out the car and life continued.
Three days after the second storm, the blonde and her husband had the radio on at dinner, and the weather report came on.
"A winter storm watch has been posted. The National Weather Service is predicting twelve inches of snow for the tri-state area. By order of the Mayor of New York, all cars are to be parked only on the left hand side of the street, to facilitate snowplowing by the city."
The blonde started to get up, but her husband took her by the hand to stop her.
"Honey, why don't you just leave the car in the garage this time?"
T2K, you just took me back. So help me God, this is a true story.
When I had to come ashore because of the collapse of American shipping, I ended up in office work. (Coming ashore into the middle of a recession is not conducive to landing a position equivalent to what you left.) The IBM PC was just barely starting to trickle out of the accounting department into general office use as a stand-alone machine, replacing a dumb terminal working off a timeshared mainframe. The construction company I was working for had just made the leap from the typewriter and copier based environment to PCs at every desk, with printers varying from impact printers to dot matrix machines, with a few Laserjets (the ones the size of two breadboxes that weighed about 100 pounds) for the executive secretaries. Nothing networked, of course.
The president had decided to buy the "good" CRTs that displayed black letters on white, as causing the least eyestrain even though they cost twice as much as monochrome monitors. Because I had prior experience with PCs (I wrote my first novel on an Apple II and had done a monthly newsletter for a couple of years on a friend's Osbourne I to make the master sheets for copying), I found myself anointed the Office Computer Guru.
There was one elderly lady that had been with the company for more than 30 years. She had started out as a steno and eventually became the secretary to the COO, who had been her boss for about 20 years. I got a call from him one day. Seemed she was having trouble with a letter for him. Could I please come and fix her computer?
I headed over to the executive wing and found her practically in tears. She had typed the letter three times, and each time she printed it, it had the same typos! Something was seriously wrong with her machine, she insisted.
So I asked her the Four Basic Computer Troubleshooting Questions. (I printed this out and kept it on my bulletin board, with the header, "If you can answer all four of these questions 'Yes,' you can talk to me about computer trouble. If not, come back when you can.") 90% of all computer troubles, even today, can be solved with these questions.
Is everything plugged in?
Is everything switched on?
Are all the cable connections solid?
Have you rebooted your machine?
She had no clue. So I checked the power situation (everything had power), made sure everything was switched on (it was), checked the connections (all were fine), and said, "We look okay mechanically. So let's shut her down and do a cold restart."
I switched off the power bar. At that point, I looked at the monitor and discovered the trouble.
She had been trying to fix the typos in her letter the way she habitually had for a decade at least - by using Wite-Out. There were three or four splotches of it on her monitor!
I told her to go and have a cup of coffee while I cleaned her screen with my pocketknife and Windex and got her PC running again. When she came back, I took her bottle of Wite-Out and dramatically dropped it into the trashcan. I explained that she didn't need it any more because she could fix her typos right there on the screen before she told the computer to print the document (this was very much pre-SpellCheck). I told her if she preferred she could print out a draft, use a pencil to make the corrections on paper and then go back over the document and fix the mistakes 'in the machine' before printing out a final copy, and spent an hour showing her how to scroll through a document, create and save files, all the things we do by reflex today but 20 years ago were totally new. But she just couldn't make the mental jump from the typewriter to the computer. She simply couldn't cope with the new technology.
She put in for retirement at the end of the month.
I believe it, Cyrano. I have a mother-in-law and a dad who simply can't cope with modern computers. We handle my dad by haunting yard sales and thrift stores for manual typewriters (he's so heavy-handed that a good one only lasts him a year or so), but it's getting harder and harder to find ribbons for them.
The only time we ever got him to write anything lengthy on a computer, he didn't save it as he went along. Right at the end he apparently pushed some weird key combination, and everything but his title disappeared. That convinced him that government agents were monitoring and editing what he wrote (it was a war memoir), and since then he has refused to use anything with a cord or cable attached to it.
lol Troy thats a good one! Its wierd how the older generation can't get the hang of computers, and then ever since I could remember there has always been a computer in my house.
3 blondes walk into a bar.
You would have thought the third would have worked it out from the first two.
A blonde is standing on one side of a river and is looking for a way over. She sees another blonde on the other side and yells out "How do i get to the other side?". The other blonde replies "You are on the other side!"
__________________
Cheers,
Rob
I'm into gun control -
I always use both hands!!!!!!!
A guy walks into a bar and sits down to have a drink. After he's had a couple, he beckons the bartender over and says, "Hey, do you want to hear a good dumb blonde joke?"
The bartender says, "Before you go any farther, sir, you should take a look around. Look down the bar to your left." The guy looks down the bar to the left and sees a statuesque blonde who looks like a cross between Jayne Mansfield and Arnold Schwartzenegger looking back at him.
"That's The Valkyrie. She's a female wrestler with the WWE Tour. One of her schticks is to tie knots in iron bars.
"Now look to the right." The guy does. There's another blonde, this one built like Muhammad Ali, giving him the evil eye.
"That's Patti 'The Cowpuncher' Johanssen. They call her Cowpuncher because when she was in college, she had a couple of drinks one night, went out with the boys to go cow-tipping and knocked out a cow that woke up and charged them with one punch to the head. Now look behind you."
The guy does. There's a gal with a nice figure about five foot eight with natural blonde hair all the way down her back, sitting at a table holding a martini. She's eying him the way a lumberjack eyes a tree he has to cut down.
"They call her 'the Piranha' around the courthouse. She's a divorce lawyer. Takes only women clients. They say she can strip an ex-husband of his assets faster than piranha can clean a carcass in the Amazon River.
"Now, are you really sure you want to tell me that joke, sir?"
"You're right," said the guy. "I really shouldn't tell that joke. I'd just have to explain it three times."
OK theres a blonde a redhead and a brunete (spelling?) and they find this magic mirror that said if you tell me somthing true You will get your deepest desire but if you lie you blow up!!! so the redhead goes up and says "I Think I have the prettiest hair." boom she is in florida! the brunete says "I think I have the prettiest eyes." boom she is loaded and is living in france." and then the blonde goes up and says "I think...." BOOM!!!! she blows up!
My dear mother (a blonde when a child . . . ) was a secretary when they switched from typewriters to early Word Processors. She made the transition.
Then, they switched to PCs with floppies.
She brought one home one day, to have me do some editing for her on my computer.
It tooks some time to educate her on the format differences between a Hewlet-Packard and my Atari . . .
A couple years back, Dad decided (at age 72) to try this newfangled computer stuff. He bought a fairly decent machine. I set it up for him, and began trying to teach him computerese.
He had the dangdest time trying to understand that E-mail and Windows were different things.
I occasionally had to delete the X-rated websites he was visiting too. Sheesh . . .
He finally gave up on it and gave the PC to my BIL.
Cartridge Group
T2K, I still have trouble with these things!
