Monday, May 12, 2008

This Just In...

THIRD WORLD BUS PLUNGES KILL DOZENS

In recent weeks, a number of buses have plunged into ravines, canyons, crevasses, and random excavations in Third World countries, killing dozens of people, as well as a fair amount of livestock. Property losses are estimated in the tens of dollars.

Traffic safety organizations around the globe have responded to this recent rash of accidents by issuing a record number of press releases. News anchors and media “talking heads” have engaged in an extreme spate of hand-waving and interviewing Ralph Nader whenever he could be found. News outlets in the U.S. have largely ignored the phenomena, or reported on it in separate, page 47, stories, secure, even smug, in the knowledge that American bus plunges are limited largely to Hollywood movies and occur in numbers fewer than the commas in the first half of this unwieldy sentence.

Attorneys have descended in record numbers on the sites of the crashes. Roland A. Long, Esq., of Long, Long, Traill and Winding, estimates that the Gross Legal Product of each of the countries which has hosted a plunge will be increased by a factor of at least 3.



MARKETS ROILED BY POLITICAL TURMOIL

Political turmoil in several countries in Africa and Asia have roiled those countries stock markets, and even caused mini- or micro-roils in markets in nearby lands.

The New York Stock Exchange, which is roiled whenever Ben Bernanke clears his throat, has largely remained unroiled by the events roiling the other markets, and roiling has been minimal in Japan, Great Britain, and Tunisia.

In one case, the near-apprehension of a high official with bags of recreational drugs caused a brief but strong spike in that country’s bourse’s roil factor. The roiling was minimal though pervasive throughout the rest of the continent. Sir Arthur Falls-Downing, Information Minister of the Foundation for Roil Analysis, commented, “As roils go, this was a relatively minor one.”

In another instance, the formation of a third political party in a country which had heretofore only had one party caused severe roiling of the market as investors sold off their holdings until they could determine whether there was, had ever been, or could be a second party. Government economic analysts pronounced themselves semi-plussed at best by the mathematics involved.

Reports on stock market roilings are being collected by several governmental and independent organizations around the globe. Civilians are invited to inform these organizations of suspected roiling by communicating with the website http://roilingroiling.org/roilreports/roil/roil.html.

Friday, May 9, 2008

A SHORT HISTORY OF COUNTING

FROM BINARY TO BINARY

FADE UP ON BARREN LANDSCAPE WITH SUN RISING IN BACKGROUND.
CAVEMAN IN FUR CLOTHING IS SEEN IN MIDDLE DISTANCE.

ANNCR

In the beginning, we didn't need
computers. What we needed was
a square meal, some shoes and
rock music.

SLOW ZOOM IN TO MS OF CAVEMAN. HE HOLDS A LARGE BONE IN ONE
HAND, NOTHING IN THE OTHER.

In those days, we had only
two numbers:...

CUT TO ECU OF HAND WITH BONE

..."some..."

CUT TO ECU OF EMPTY HAND

...or "none."

CUT TO MS SHOWING BOTH HANDS

Either we had something, or
we didn't.

CAVEMAN THROWS AWAY BONE. PAN WITH HIM AS HE WALKS
AWAY.

And we never had enough of
anything to have to count it.

CAVEMAN COMES TO A CLUB LEANING AGAINST A ROCK (TREE? FIRE
HYDRANT?), PICKS IT UP AND PUTS IT ON SHOULDER.

Your average caveman could only
carry one club around at a time.
Maybe not even that after the invention
of rock music...

ANOTHER CAVEMAN CROSSES IN FRONT OF FIRST CAVEMAN, HOLDING MEDIUM
SIZED ROCK ON SHOULDER (LIKE LARGE RADIO) AND MOVING BODY AS IF
HE HEARS MUSIC.

So you either had one...

MS CAVEMAN, CLUB ON SHOULDER, LOOKING PROUDLY INTO CAMERA

or you didn't...

QUICK PAN TO SECOND CAVEMAN, LOOKING ENVIOUSLY AT CLUB


And if you turned your back on
anything for very long...

CAVEMAN TAKES CLUB OFF SHOULDER, BENDS DOWN AND LEANS IT AGAINST
TREE

somebody else had it...


PAN TO GROUND BEHIND CAVEMAN. CLUB IS THERE, LEANING AGAINST
TREE. HAND COMES INTO FRAME AND GRABS OBJECT.

...and you had none.

PAN & TILT TO CAVEMAN AS HE TURNS, REGISTERS SURPRISE AND DISMAY,
THEN TURNS TO FACE CAMERA RESIGNEDLY.



CROSSFADE TO SCENE OF GRASSLAND. SAME CAVEMAN, WITH SHEPHERD'S
STAFF, AMID FLOCK OF SHEEP.


But one day, one of us had
to learn to count.



CUT TO NIGHT SCENE. SHEPHERD SLEEPING UNDER TREE, STILL
SURROUNDED BY SHEEP.


If you don't know how many
sheep you have, you're
never sure that someone hasn't
stolen a few overnight.

FADE TO SHEPHERD WAKING AT SUNRISE, WITH THREE SHEEP AROUND.

So, we invented counting...
using our fingers.

ECU CAVEMAN'S FINGERS AS HE COUNTS TO THREE, POINTING WITH INDEX
FINGER OF OTHER HAND.

But as soon as we made a fist...

ECU FIST

...we forgot how many sheep we had.


PULL BACK TO MS OF CAVEMAN WITH FIST, SCRATCHING HEAD WITH OTHER
HAND.

Besides, if we had more than ten
sheep, we still couldn't count them.

MS OF CAVEMAN, ON BACK AMID FLOCK OF SHEEP, COUNTING TOES.

All right, maybe we could count
twenty sheep.

CROSSFADE TO CAVEMAN, AMONG SHEEP, COUNTING PEBBLES INTO PIECE OF
LEATHER AND PICKING UP THIS POUCH.

So the first counting device
probably was a bag of
pebbles, one for each sheep.
This led to the first practical
joke...

CROSSFADE TO SHEPHERD ASLEEP ON HILLSIDE, SURROUNDED BY SHEEP.
HAND ENTERS FRAME, TAKES BAG OF PEBBLES, ADDS A FEW, AND RETURNS
BAG TO CAVEMAN.


CROSSFADE TO CAVEMAN AWAKENING AT SUNRISE. HE LOOKS AT BAG OF
PEBBLES, THEN LOOKS AT FLOCK OF SHEEP AND LOOKS ALARMED.

FADE OUT ON LS OF CAVEMAN RUNNING OFF INTO DISTANCE, LOOKING FOR
"MISSING" SHEEP.


FADE UP ON CAVEMAN IN TOGA WRITING "MCDLXXVI" ON SLATE.

Eventually, we invented writing,
and we could keep track of our
numbers without the bag of pebbles.

ROMAN WRITES "TIMES MCMLXXV" ON SLATE AND LOOKS PUZZLED.

But then came arithmetic...


CROSSFADE TO CAVEMEN IN ARAB BURNOOSE POINTING TO A BLACKBOARD
WITH "632" ON IT, AND "ONES" UNDER THE "2," "TENS" UNDER THE "3,"
AND "HUNDREDS" UNDER THE SIX.

And some new numbers.

ARAB BRINGS A "0" TO BOARD, MOVES THE "6" LEFTWARDS, SO IT IS
OVER AN ENTRY "THOUSANDS," AND PUTS THE "0" OVER THE "HUNDREDS"
LABEL.

After we invented counting,
writing and mathematics,
we could start inventing the
computer.

CUT TO MS OF CAVEMAN IN CHINESE COSTUME, HOLDING ABACUS

The Chinese invented the abacus,
probably the first machine for
doing mathematics.


RAPID CUTS TO NAPIER'S BONES, PASCAL'S CALCULATOR, BABBAGE'S
DIFFERENCE ENGINE AND THEN ANALYTICAL ENGINE, THE SLIDE RULE,
HOLLERITH CARDS, JACQUARD LOOM, HARVARD MARK I COMPUTER, ENIAC,
AN EARLY IBM, THE CRAY-1.

The pace of invention picked
up considerably and is still
accelerating today. Computers
are not only getting faster
and more powerful, they're
also getting smaller.

RAPID CUTS FROM EARLY IBM TO DEC MINICOMPUTER, TRS-80 DESKTOP
SYSTEM, APPLE II, OSBORNE OR KAYPRO, RADIO SHACK MODEL 100 OR
EQUIVALENT, AND SMALL POCKET COMPUTER.

Computers can't get much smaller,
because we still have to...

CAVEMAN'S HAND APPROACHES POCKET COMPUTER KEYBOARD

work them with our fingers.

PULL BACK TO MS OF CAVEMAN HOLDING POCKET COMPUTER IN ONE HAND
AND PRESSING KEYS WITH OTHER.

And...not only are we back to counting
on our fingers...but did you know
that computers actually count with
only our original two numbers..."some"
...and "none"?

CROSSFADE TO REPEAT OF MS OF CAVEMAN WITH BONE IN ONE HAND AND
OTHER HAND EMPTY.

But that's another story.

FADE OUT ON CAVEMAN THROWING AWAY BONE AND WALKING AWAY.

Monday, April 21, 2008

JACK AND THE BIENSTOCK BUILDING

by Charles Durang

In a country not far from here once lived an old woman and her son, Jack. They were very poor and, one day, the old woman called her son to her side.

"Jack," she said, "we have nothing left now but our cow, and she has gone dry. I'm afraid you must take her to the city and sell her."

So Jack set out for the Big City, leading the tired cow behind him. Soon he was back, carrying two pieces of paper.

"Jack," said his mother, "what are those pieces of paper? And where is the money for selling the cow?"

"Mother, I have wonderful news!" cried Jack. "We will soon be rich, for I have made two Big Deals in the city." Jack's mother, knowing that her son was a good boy but not all that bright, waited apprehensively for him to explain. "I have here a deed to a very busy bridge, for which I traded the cow. Within a few days, all the tolls which are collected at this bridge will begin to arrive in our mailbox!"

"Oh, Jack," cried the old woman, "you are a fool and an oaf, for you have fallen for the oldest shuck in the book." And she began to cry.

"Not only that, Mother," Jack went on relentlessly, "but I have traded our little home for an interest in a big building which will be built right here, on this very spot, starting tomorrow!"

"Oh, curses and twaddle, you wretched rube! Where shall we live?"

"Do not cry, Mother," Jack said. "I was told that we may stay in the paint shed while the building is going up, and shall have a room in the basement right beside the boiler for as long as we wish." The old woman subsided and began to pack her few possessions in an old cavalry footlocker.

The next day, sure enough, many men and machines arrived at the farm and began to work noisily. Within a week, a vast building was growing toward the sky. Jack watched in amazement from a nearby hill.

Soon the building had grown one hundred stories tall, and Jack and his mother moved into their new apartment, which they shared with the boiler, the fuse box, four hundred garbage cans and three shovels.

"Jack, I shall never forgive you for this," his mother said, "that I must spend the rest of my days in this miserable room."

"Oompah," said the boiler.

One day, after weeks and months went by, and no money had ever arrived for Jack's share of the building, he decided he must do something about it, for his mother's sake. He left the little room and began to climb the stairs.

Up, up, up he climbed, to the twentieth story, where he stopped for lunch. Up and up, to the fiftieth floor, where he made camp for the night. And still higher, until late on the second day he reached the top floor.

There was only one door there. It said, "A.B. Bienstock, Chairman of the Board." Jack knocked politely enough. When no one answered, he opened the door. A little old man sat, with his back to Jack, hunched over a machine that went "click, click" and spat out a long strip of thin tape. Each time the machine went "click, click," the man picked up his telephone and said,

"Sell Consolidated Amalgamated."

"Buy Associated Conglomerated."

"Buy Western Eastern."

"Sell Brazil."

Jack said, "Ahem, sir..."

The man spun around in his chair. He said, "Fee, fie, fo, fum!" for his teeth had fallen out as he spun.

He bent over to pick them up. Then he said, "How did you get in here?" And into the telephone he said, "Sell Limited Incorporated."


"I am Jack," said Jack, "from the Boiler Room. I am supposed to be receiving money for selling you my house so you could put up this building."

"Preposterous and fiddle faddle," said the Chairman of the Board. "I don't make arrangements like that."

"If you please, sir, it says so here on this piece of paper," said Jack, showing him the contract. And sure enough, among all the whereases, howevers, and party of the first parts, it said so.

"Son, I am A.B. Bienstock, and this is my building. I will give you a quarter to go away." And he did. Then he turned back to his machine, which went "click, click."

"Is that a machine for making money?" asked Jack.

Without turning around, Mr. Bienstock said, "Yes. I make lots of money with it. Which is why I haven't time to talk to you. Go away."

With that, Jack ran around the big desk, snatched up the money-making machine, and ran out into the hall.

"Fee, fie, fo, fum," roared the Chairman again. Then he picked up his teeth and ran after Jack.
Jack ran down the hall to the end, but there was no doorway out, and the window didn't open. He was trapped!

As A.B. Bienstock came running toward him, Jack dropped to the floor, and the man tripped over him and crashed right through the window.

"Feeee!" he shouted as he began falling.

"Fiiiee!" he yelled at the ninety-second floor, and all the workers came to look out the windows.

"Foooe!" he said at the seventy-ninth floor, picking up speed.

"Have my chauffeur waiting at the door," he ordered as he passed the forty-fifth floor.

"Good day," he said pleasantly to the workers at the thirtieth, eighteenth, and third floors.

His car pulled up to the front door just as he arrived and crashed through the top of it. He told the chauffeur, "To the hospital," and they drove off.

Some days later, Jack and his mother were sitting in their apartment watching the money-making machine. It went "click, click," and the tape came out and said CONAM 21 1/4...EXPIM 6 7/8...GRSOU 12 1/2...

Jack said to his mother, "If we knew what that meant, we could say 'buy this' or 'sell that' on the telephone, if we had a telephone." Just then, there was a knock++on the door. Jack opened it.

It was A.B. Bienstock! He had on a lot of bandages, and one arm was in a sling. He said, "Jack, you are a rave and smart boy. Therefore, I am making you a full partner in my building. From today, half is mine and half is yours. May I have my machine back now?"

"Sure," said Jack, handing it over. "When do I start getting my half of the rent?"

Mr. Bienstock gave the machine to his chauffeur and said, "Not for a while. We haven't been able to rent any of the building since I fell out of it, and all the tenants we had have left. But here's your half of the tax bill. Good day."

Jack looked at the bill. It was for $438,651.26.

His mother began to cry and pack her footlocker.

Moral: leaving well enough alone is better than half a loaf.

Other places to hang out...