Sandra Tsing Loh's Commencement Speech to the Caltech Class of 2005

"PS: The Last Caltech Lesson"

Congratulations Caltech, class of 2005! Welcome friends and family and no, you didn't hear wrong. . . I am indeed your commencement speaker.

Yes, we are at Caltech, the top science school in the country -- No matter what MIT may pathetically try to claim-- Speaking of which, I thought we were promised a prank by MIT. A commencement prank. What's the matter. . . Too scared, Girlymen? I'm sorry-- What with our Governor, "Girlymen" is what we say in California-- It's a kind of Austrio-Hollywood term of endearment-a love tap, if you will.

Anyway-- As you know, historically gracing this podium are such eminences grises as Nobel Prize laureates, Fortune 500 CEO's, network anchormen, Time magazine Men of the Year. . . Even in 1991, an actual sitting president, George Bush, Sr.

Instead, here I am. . . One of those public radio commentators who does short personal bits five minutes before the hour, right after all the important news. . .
Some would describe the "I am not worthy" feeling to be terror--
Some would say, "Oh well--it's just another dreamlike, out of body moment. . . at Caltech--"

Because I am a Caltech graduate and--for those of us in this hardy group-performance anxiety is nothing new. We're people who laugh at fear--! samurai who've already proved ourselves by surviving. . . a "Caltech education." Which can seem like. . . secret Clubhouse code between "Techers"-- How hard this school is-- And for those visiting for the first time, relatives from out of town, to give you just a quick-snapshot-example of what your Caltech grad has triumphed over. . . Consider that beloved academic tradition-- The take-home. . . open-book. . . infinite time exam-

"That's right! Take all the time you want! Won't really help you because, PS, Problem Number Two? It's actually impossible. That's right! It's a famous impossible conundrum! Even Descartes couldn't solve it, after working on it. . . for 37 years. Then he went insane. Had a fight with Foucault, bar in Lyons, few drinks, argument, duel. . . Funny story, we thought it would be amusing to give this unsolvable drove-Descartes-mad paradox to you freshman. . . in Math 1. . . your very first week at Caltech!" ["And then to really mess with your perfect SAT /high school valedictorian heads, we gave you, woo. . . infinite time."
But rest assured that Caltech students do learn to fight back, in this intellectual hazing process. Even the mediocre ones. I know, because I was not just one of them, I believe I'm on the short list of candidates for patron saint of those lost at Caltech. Junior year, I was assigned as physics lab partner classmate Sekhar Chivukula, widely regarded a genius, he's still in physics today. Of our pairing it was said: "Sekhar will do the calculations, Sandra will handle the radioactive samples." Thanks for the respect. Never mind-- By senior year, I'd developed my own law of quantum mechanics that had nothing to do with Wigner-Eckhart's Theorem or Clebsch-Gordon Coefficients-

No, Sandra's Theory was: "On any Phys 106 exam involving the spin of an atom, the answer is at least 63 percent likely to be. . . 1/2." I don't know why but. . . You'd be amazed how often it worked: To skip the calculations and just boldly put down 1/2 and then write next to it an illegible honeycomb snarl of curlicues that vaguely resembled any of the Greek symbols--lambda, iota, zeta, tau, ampersand-- With any luck a tired Pakistani TA might just look at it, get a headache and throw you a point--!

So by the time I graduated, I had a Caltech diploma entirely made of. . . partial credit, yes-- My degree was glued together, faintly pulsing with. . . radioactivity, graded less on a curve than on a kind of wild hyperbola asymptotically approaching. . . some imaginary. . . actual answer. . .

But good news, once Caltech gives you a diploma, apparently. . . they can't take it away. Rock on! So what do I have to be afraid of? As far as I'm concerned, this is all just some dreamlike follow-up oral. . . for show--!

But back to you. Graduates--! As you sit on Beckman Lawn, ruminating over your last four years here. . . Or five, or eight-- In my day, there was one Darb in astrophysics on the 12 year plan, who lived on nothing but Mountain Dew and Cheese Puffs. . . Anyway, Graduates--! You might be asking yourself: "What does my Caltech past mean? What of my present? Most importantly, what philosophical advice do I need to carry me, shiplike, into my future?"

You may not actually being thinking this--we certainly weren't at our graduation--but this is a commencement speech so let's get to it. The advice.

And historically, the one thing we know about advice is: So much is given, so little is remembered, and the little that's remembered is short. Think of Elizabeth Taylor. When asked what advice she had for tomorrow's actors, she said just two words: "Take Fountain." Fountain is a lesser known boulevard in Hollywood, a great short cut across town. Unusual: Advice that's pithy, useful, and still relevant today.

I was initially tempted to go even shorter, offering Caltech grads just four letters: I-K-E-A. Because in your twenties, couches and shelves are astonishing big deals--

But obviously I wanted to go deeper. . . And fortunately, I had an eager collaborator in my father, Eugene Loh, 85 years old now, Shanghai-born, Caltech Class of '54. . . The day he learned I was to be Caltech commencement speaker was both the most thrilling day in his life and then suddenly the most terrifying when he realized how much. . . could go wrong. So for the past few months my dad has been calling me every other morning--at 7:15 a.m.!--with the quickest routes into Pasadena, how to set a second alarm. . . I'm 43 years old, and my Chinese father was still having nightsweats about his daughter somehow, Caltech-style, sleeping through this. . .

My dad was also worried about my blowing the speech, so with retired scientist precision he drafted it for me on a napkin. First I was to list our family's Caltech credits: him, me, my brother Eugene. . . My father met my mother at the Caltech swimming pool but he didn't think that was important, more important was that she worked in Renee Delbecco's lab! My sister Tatjana went to UCLA but was born in the old St. Luke's which is now part of. . . Caltech! Rock on! Quote Goethe, praise David Baltimore, end with something vaguely uplifting like "Dare to dream". . . and above all, my dad said: "It's commencement. Don't 'try' to be 'funny.'"

And at that moment, the light bulb went on. I remembered the one thing that freed me, post-Caltech-- And I believe can free you. . . . The advice being not "Dare to dream"-- Every young person dares to dream-frankly, it's all they do all day! But many bright young people, under their A student masks, also harbor a secret passion. . . And the key to releasing that last exotic bird to flight is not "Dare to Dream," but, listen carefully, "Dare. . . to disappoint. . . your father."

That's right, Caltech graduates. . . Freedom begins now! Diploma in hand, start today veering wildly off course! have the fabulous graduation lunch, at the Ath. . . or Burger Continental. . . Let your parents get a few bites in, and then boldly unveil. . . your hideous summer plans! Skiing, snorkeling, belly-dancing, sleeping-- Maybe try out for American Idol, why not?

And you Asian students? That goes double for you. You know who you are?don't make me come and get you. Don't be shy. Look at me--I went into the liberal arts which, for a Chinese father, is like pole-dancing.

I'm not saying mothers can't be disappointed at graduation-- Mine said she disappointed mostly by what I wore-

But I think fathers--or father-shaped objects or male mentors--resonate most here, as Caltech is a campus predominantly built. . . by fathers. Certainly women continue to gain presence-- For instance, I'm thrilled that my classmate Julia Kornfield is full professor here in Chemical Engineering. . .leading a graduating class of all women in chem. e.

We've come a long way, baby, from where we first met in 1979, on Caltech's first women's volleyball team. . . Woo! Which was great fun-- But unfortunately as females were still a new phenomenon on campus our athletic mascot remained "the Caltech. . .. beaver." So when we ran out onto the court at games, our fans would bravely yell, "Goooooo Beavers!" Never mind.

So yes, more women will continue to enter its history books, but for me Caltech, look around you, has always felt like a land of kings-- Its heroes the fathers of modern chemistry, biology, physics, neuroscience. . . Who give name to the stately buildings-- Kerchkoff, Church, Von Karman-- busts of male elders surprise one at every garden turn, and oil paintings, including, most famously, in the Atheneum dining room, Caltech's Holy Trinity. . . Not Father, Son and Holy Ghost, but Noyes, Hale, and the virtual George Washington of Caltech, in full academic regalia, Robert Millikan.

As a female I must say I'm happy to be standing in front the most double-X chromosome-suggesting building on campus, the giant Beckman wedding cake.

But while Caltech is beautiful, at some point I think the weight of all these glowering Caltech fathers looking down on you can be daunting for a young person. Think of Amadeus, of Mozart cringing under his father's portrait-- Father-worship being important, but. . . it doesn't tell the whole story, does it?

Consider, in the Dabney House courtyard, the bas-relief of a kind of Last Supper. . .. Except the apostles are named Archimedes, Euclid, Copernicus, Newton, Pasteur, da Vinci, Darwin, Franklin, who are all paying homage to a Christ-like. . . Richard Feynman. The pomp, the saintliness. . . Lovely to look at, but is this really how one should remember Feynman?

Dramatic pause. And here we go--a Caltech commencement tradition--finishing with the obligatory Feynman story-- That. . .. brings it all together.

Here's mine. Flashback to 1979-- We are freshmen in Page House, in a glaze from our first "infinite time" exam. . . Which has triggered our first "all-nighter"--known as: "Borrowing from tomorrow to pay for yesterday, today." (It's hard to figure out, I know). And in walks our first after-dinner guest--author of those great red bibles: The Feynman Lectures on Physics. Feynman. It's Feyman! Nobel Prize laureate in physics. We freshmen sit stunned, our mouths hanging open as he talks. And Feynman, a brilliant anecdotalist who's used to going into a room and just killing-

Well he sees we're in a glaze, and so, to perk things up, in describing electromagnetic induction, where a magnetic coil pulls a needle in, out, in, out. . . He suddenly stops, in amazement, and erupts comedically, in his thick Bronx accent: "Look at that! It's little like?.

And then--to our shock--he utters a non-FCC approved word for which, on public radio last year, I got fired-

So I won't say it again but you may figure it out if you consider that Feynman's own commencement speech right here. . . in '74 began with Feynman's famous riff on pseudoscience which features. . . a naked woman getting a massage at Esalen. And he doesn't mean Madame Curie.

So under the bas-relief of Feynman as God, I suggest. . . Maybe a little electromagnetic coil. . . Flanked by a bottle of champagne, two wine glasses and. . . maybe some bongos.

Because his examples were truth, though, Feynman didn't consider them particularly shameful. But obscuring the truth. . . that, to him, was embarrassing. For instance, in 1909, Millikan. Robert Millikan, the father of Caltech, measured the charge of the electron via falling drops of oil. Over ensuing years, when scientists repeated the experiment, the results kept creeping upward, by tiny increments, until the value eventually became fixed at a number. . . significantly higher.

Feynman's commencement question to his graduates was: why didn't they get the right answer sooner? Because when the researchers got their results. . .. Well, I picture them having lunch at the Ath, saying: "Our data is so far off! Could Millikan be--?" And then they look up from their salad, see Caltech's Father, Son and Holy Ghost looking down from that oil painting and they think: "No. It is I who must. . . be wrong."

Because Caltech's motto is: "The truth shall make you free," I think the last great Caltech gedankenexperiment is just that, graduates, to imagine your literal--or metaphorical--dad being wrong. [Look at Stephen Hawking, 30 years later--"All that stuff I said about the universe? Sorry!] Course, he didn't go to Caltech.

And of course, as more female alumna start sending daughters to Caltech-- My eldest Madeline is four, so even with early admissions we've got a few months to go.

Hopefully, eventually I will be proved wrong, by a commencement speaker who says: "Disappoint your mothers."

Either way, I believe, failing one's elders is serious business, and not currently in fashion. These are times of great anxiety, and great conventionality. With ever-escalating academic pressure, there is a danger of creating perfect performers, trained monkeys unable to break through to a new paradigm. Not that this implies any Caltech students. . .

But as, for 111 years, there have never been any humiliated parents at Caltech graduations-- I see very few black armbands here today-- We can deduce that the only thing graduates didn't learn is how to fail you, parents. So let them-- graduation is the beginning of the hero's journey-- Which is a little bit Oedipal--just a little, I'm not saying kill your father! But the hero's journey does begin by leaving. . . the safety of the village. . . (And, yes, I think women can be heroes. If a beaver can be a woman, a female can be a hero!)

And in the beginning of this journey, boldness is all-- boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Dig me, I got in some Goethe.

And so what if June is traditionally a treacherous time for irreverence. . . A time when elder authority reigns, with heavy hand. .. . What with Father's Day, Graduation, and so many commencement speakers roaming the land--the CEO's, network anchormen, even presidents and vice-presidents. . . The only ruler not currently touring, I think, is the Pope!

If there's a Medieval image I'd suggest for Caltech genius, it's less great circle of old grizzled kings than card zero of the Tarot deck: the one Fool. . . stepping off a cliff. You. Who proves them all wrong.

In other words, new motto: If you happen to be a Buddha in the road and you see a Caltech grad coming. . . Be a little nervous.

Thank you all, sorry about the disappointing speech, dad, and Class of 2005. . .

Congratulations! Go get 'em!

Tugboat

1. Tugboat floats into bridge.
2. Tugboat tips and takes on water.
3. Tugboat slips under bridge.
4. Tugboat rights itself on the other side and continues downstream, apparently unaffected.

Don't believe me? Here are the pictures to prove it.

Read the text description after you look at the pictures...

Pro Golfer

A pro golfer was involved in a terrible car crash and was rushed to hospital. Just before he was put under, the surgeon popped in to see him.
"I have some good news and some bad news." says the surgeon. "The bad news is that I have to remove your right arm!"
"Oh god no!" cries the man. "My career is over! Please Doc, what's the good news?"
"The good news is, I have another one to replace it with, but it's a woman's arm! I'll need your permission before I go ahead with the transplant"
"Go for it doc" says the man. "As long as I can play golf again."

The operation went well and 6 months later the man was out on the golf course when he bumped into the surgeon.
"Hi, how's the new arm?" asks the surgeon.
"Just great" says the business man. "I'm playing the best golf of my life. My new arm has a much finer touch and my putting has really improved."
"That's great." said the surgeon.
"Not only that," continued the golfer, "my handwriting has improved, I've learned how to sew my own clothes and I've even taken up painting landscapes in watercolors"
"Unbelievable!" said the surgeon, "I'm so glad to hear the transplant was such a success."
"Well there is one problem," said the golfer, "every time I try to jerk off I get a headache!"

Stretching a Dime

A Ukrainian and a Jew were discussing how far each could make a dime reach, and agreed to try it and meet a few days later to see who'd get the most out of a dime.

The Jew bought a cigar, and smoked one-third the first day and saved the ashes. He smoked one-third the second day and saved the ashes. He smoked one-third the third day and again saved the ashes, and on the fourth day he gave the ashes to his wife to use as fertilizer on her roses.

He told the Ukrainian, "I know you can't beat that for stretching a dime."

The Ukrainian said, "I got you beat. I bought a Polish sausage for a dime, and the first day I ate one-half, and on the second day I ate the other one-half. The third day I used the skin for a condom, and the fourth day I took a shit in the skin and sewed it back up. The fifth day I took it back to the butcher and told him it smelled like shit. He agreed with me and gave me my dime back!"

If you want to be paid more:

I am the director of a non-profit agency that frequently has individuals running various errands for us. We have a budget line for reimbursing those people who use their own vehicle for the trips. I once had a very sweet lady who made a run to a nearby town to deliver some items to a regular drop point. She returned and came in to me with her mileage form. The recorded mileage read about 6 or 8 miles less than what the round trip distance actually was. I asked her if she had actually recorded the mileage and it turned out that she had. I suggested to her that perhaps she should have her odometer checked because it was not recording correctly. She was very sure that her odometer must be correct because her car was new! And besides she had just had it checked! (How often do you have your odometer checked? She didn't have a clue how it worked even.) The ultimate reason has remained a joke among staff and volunteers to this day--especially when it is close to pay day and the old wallet is getting thin! The lady told me, "Well, I'll bet it was because I drive so much slower than you do. You know the way and I have to be careful and go slow so I don't miss the turns. That way my mileage is lower than yours. People still volunteer to make the trip "reeeeal sloooow" when they need extra cash. (No fear. I made her take the amount that I knew was correct for the mileage.)
 

10/10/2002

How to Categorize Tech Support Callers

Remember, not all customers call, and many (most?) callers fall into multiple categories. 100% of the 10% of customers who have Macs. There is no bigger pain in the butt than a Mac owner, except, perhaps for a New Mac owner. Computers for the rest of us? More like computers for brain-dead among us. Arrogant, pretentious, pedantic, insolent, presumptuous, egotistical, conceited, pompous, pseudo-intellectual, pseudo-professional, morons. Invariably, if you say "Now, Mr. Smith..." and are immediately corrected "That's Dr. Smith..." you are talking with a Mac owner. Isn't it amazing that every Mac owner has a PhD in Middle English?

The 100% of callers who want to know what the weather is like out- side Tech Central. Five minutes of inane charter is five wasted minutes, five minutes before the tech can get to you and your question, and five minutes before the tech can get to the next caller. "Right now in L.A. it's 12 below and balmy. The snow is 16 feet deep." Now, let's get on with it shall we?

The 90% of callers who work in Marketing or Marketing related fields (Oh God, please not the Intern to the Assistant to the Associate VP of Inter-Departmental Marketing Services). "I'll be in a meeting from 10:00 to 10:15, while I'm gone can you install the Web in my word processor? Thanks." 'Nuff said.

The 80% of callers who "already tried that."

The 75% of callers who refuse to read the manuals, and call for "a quick walk through."

The 60% of callers who answer every question with yes or no (or variations there-on). "OK, how much free space do you have on your hard disk drive?" "Yes." "OK, and how much RAM do you have?" "None."

The 50% of callers who don't believe a word the Technician says, fight each and every suggestion and are suddenly amazed when the program starts working, and then ask the Tech to repeat the entire solution so "I can write it down."

The 40% of callers who get "all sorts of error" messages, but didn't write any of them down, and can't seem to remember what any of them said, and can't seem to duplicate them while the tech is on the phone.

The 30% of callers who place the technician on hold "just for a second" while they answer another call, consult with the person who usually uses the computer, looks for the manual, etc.

The 25% of callers who purchase a program for a specific project with an time frame that precludes them from reading the manual or working through any of the program tutorials. "They're just fluff anyway."

The 20% of callers who try to use the speaker phone "because the computer is on the other side of the room, and I don't have a phone over there." (Typically, these people are calling for help with their modems.)

The 20% of callers who can't tell the technician which program they purchased. Of these, there is a remarkable subset who insist that the company name is the program name. "Yes, I'm trying to install Microsoft, but it doesn't work..."

The 15% of callers who aren't sure if the are using Windows, DOS, OS/2, MAC, or (God forbid) Unix.

The 10% of callers who are professional computer consultants. Proving once again that knowledge and experience have no place in any consulting field.

The 9% of callers who are convinced they are calling Microsoft, IBM or Apple and refuse to be dissuaded. "If you don't adjust your attitude, I'll write a letter to Bill Gates!"

The 8% of callers who call up to complain that they only have a quick question and wanted to contact Tech Support via e-mail (or FAX or via the web or however). BTW, that address is printed in the manual, and in the read-me file, and in the help-file and on the box. Yep, that e-mail address is one of the most closely guarded national security secrets of all time.

The 7% of callers who insist on using the PC version of the program on a Mac, and won't believe that there is a difference. Of this group, 2% will have "Soft Windows" and will not believe that there could possibly be a compatibility issue. (See "everything else works"...)

That leaves the 5% of callers who really do have a problem that isn't addressed anywhere in the manual, who really do need to talk with a tech, and have had to hold for 45 minutes behind all those yahoos who were listed above. And, yeah, I know, it doesn't add up to 100%, but most callers fit multiple categories.

BUSH IMPEACHMENT IMMINENT

Jerry Miles: Correspondent; Patriot, Spokesman for Truth, Justice and the American Way 

10/4/2002, JMNI Washington: As if the economy, possible conflict with Iraq and the upcoming elections were not trouble enough for the Bush administration, a troubling revelation in his ancestry was released last week by Colin P. Dotard, a prominent genealogist. Mr., Dotard released information definitely linking the Bush family with the Daggett clan.  “This is the worst information that could have of hit us at a time like this,” a Bush spokesperson was quoted.  “Most of the Daggett’s are fine people but one individual in Acton, Mr. Peter A. Daggett, is a true liability.”

  A joint session of Congress was convened to discuss how best to handle this embarrassing disclosure.  Party lines blurred as all in attendance declared this was the worst disaster to ever impinge on the viability of a president.  Senator Daschel was heard to say, “I see impeachment as the only alternative.  We can forgive almost any atrocious act or development as we proved during the last presidential term…. But this is just impossible to ignore.”  Of special concern to the Democrats is the information that the individual in Acton also claims to be a liberal Democrat.  “We can’t in any way show we have any association with this character,” said Sen. John Kerry of Massachusetts.  “Decisive action, including impeachment is being seriously debated at this very moment.”

The discussion of impeachment proceedings may be academic, as the Bush White House  announced late this evening that the President and his advisors are considering the President's resignation from office as the most practical option.  In a written statement released to the press the president said; “Although there is no way I can be held personally responsible for any of this, after all, we are dealing with a chance encounter in the gene pool, the taint that it brings to my credibility as a leader is not possible to dismiss. I will consider all alternatives but fear resignation and banishment is my only recourse.”

(Coincidentally, Mr. Daggett said very close to the same thing, only he seemed exceedingly pleased) 

Essential Facts Every American Should Know About  It’s Most Dangerous Enemy

 A report compiled by the Department of National Preparedness

        NAME:

Republic of Iraq

        KEY FACTS:

437,072 sq km of barren desert wasteland.  Sworn enemy of the United States and white people everywhere.  Inhabited exclusively by Arabiac terrorists and unsaved Islamoids, who shamelessly conspire to withhold the vast reserves of American oil held hostage deep beneath their worthless nation.

        POPULATION:

23,331,985 (July 2001 est.)

        RACE:

Arabiac/Brown

        RELIGION:

Our Lord and Savior His Holiness Jesus Christ is not welcome in Iraq.  Worship of the moon god Allah is compulsory.  Bibles are used routinely by the populace as fireplace logs and toilet paper.

        HYGIENE:

Like cats, Iraquians bathe primarily in dust, and groom each other's hair with their tongues.

        SPORT:

There is no football, baseball, basketball or hockey in Iraq.  As with most inferior nations, "soccer" is popular, though notably less so than "martyr ball," in which opposing teams of fifteen players compete on their hands and knees to nudge a semi-decayed billy goat testicle across a scorpion-infested minefield.

        GOVERNMENT:

Republic.  Prime Minister SADDAM Hussein (since 29 May 1994); Deputy Prime Ministers Tariq Mikhail AZIZ (since NA 1979), Hikmat Mizban Ibrahim al-AZZAWI (since 30 July 1999), Ahmad Husayn al-KHUDAYIR (since NA July 2001), and Abd al-Tawab Mullah al-HUWAYSH (since NA July 2001)

        GEOGRAPHY:

Iraq consists of little more than tens of thousands of square miles of sun-baked dirt mountains, in which reside countless muslamic savages, who engage in ferociously indiscriminate breeding to fill the ranks of Iraq's vast armies of pre-teen terrorists.

        FOOD:

The dietary staples of Iraq include camel meat, lentils, and yogurt.  In addition, 53% of Iraquians are practicing cannibals.  Female infants are routinely barbecued whole and served with turshi, a popular mixture of pickled vegetables.

        HISTORY:

Present-day Iraq occupies the greater part of the ancient land of Mesopotamia.  History tells us that the Mesopotamiacs were ACLU'er practitioners of bestiality, who – millennia before the discovery of the United States by the gentle and pluralistic Christopher Columbus - labored intensively to weave American flags from human hair and tumble weed fibers, and BURN THEM!

        ARCHITECTURE:

Inspired primarily by the design of Donald Trump's "Taj Mahal" casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey, most Iraquian structures are built of kiln-dried bricks of human excrement, and adorned with the desert-bleached bones of Christian children.

        LANGUAGES:

English (though they pretend not to understand it), Arabiac

        ARTS:

Though roughly 75% of Iraquian men are artistically-inclined homosexual types, the country produces no original art of its own.  Reproductions of foreign art are popular though - best sellers including Andres Serrano's "Piss Christ" and Chris Ofili's elephant dung-smeared "The Holy Virgin Mary."

        HOLIDAYS:

Public: New Year's Day, Mustard Gas Day (6 January), Al Gore Day (31 March) Religious: Ascension of the Moon God, Feast of the 10W-40 Geyser, Pontius Pilate Appreciation Day

        ECONOMY:

Iraq's economy is dominated by the oil sector, and while a decade-long United Nations embargo has done much to weaken the Iraquian economy, a $73 million deal with the Texas-based Halliburton Corporation has successfully buoyed the country's ambitious doomsday weapons programs.

The Fountain Head

A sanitary drinking fountain in the form of an upturned sculptured face, from the lips of which the water bubbles as from a bubbling cup, is the idea of a young Chicago sculptor.   The head rises from a carved-stone or marble chalice, and from the lips each thirsty passer-by may obtain what the young sculptor describes as a "water kiss."  The model can be reproduced in plaster, cut in stone or cast in metal, to suit local requirements.

Selected  from 
Popular Mechanics
January 1912

Reading this  has caused me to wonder what other configurations of this fountain might have been created and rejected by this sculptor, the mind boggles.  

This is for the internet addict you love...

I have been collecting Webpages with humorous undertones and overtones since I have been on the net... these are some of my favorites... if anyone knows of any similar sites please let me know. I have had to delete two of my favorite sites because they went belly up, I need replacements... where do you go for your Humor Fix on the Net?

 THE ONION... 

Annals of Improbable Research (AIR).

NINE PLANETS MAG DOT COM
"All Content... No Business Plan."

Car Talk

Cartoons

(The real) Darwin Awards

The Flummery Digest

Dennis Miller

German Chocolate Cake

Preface; This is a real letter not a joke so it doesn't really belong here, but I can't think where else to put it. It was sent to me by my friend Sally in Maine, it was written by a cousin of her husband Keith. I wish I had someone who would write to me like this... what a fun read.

Myrna,

Thanks for the recipe for the cake.  Now if I could only follow directions.  I went to the store and bought the right chocolate, pecans, coconut, evaporated milk, round cake pans (because mine are in storage), a birthday card about making a cake for Charles' birthday “because I couldn't put a candle in beer” and a #5 and #3 candle to set in the middle of his cake because Allen said that Charles was born in 1948. 

Now, I only had from about 11:30 am  to 3:00 pm  to make the apartment presentable and have this German chocolate cake to come out perfectly and get myself ready to go out because Allen's cousin, Bill and his wife were also coming to our apartment for cake after going out for dinner.

So...I ripped the German chocolate open and what do I see?  Right in plain sight is a recipe for German chocolate cake and frosting besides, but it called for 3 cake pans and not just 2 that I had just bought.  Now, I had to make sure that this thing was going to come out just right so I had to drive back to the store and wade by the Salvation Army guy ringing his bell and pitch another buck in the tin can and buy the other cake pan.  These are the times when I had wished I could have just sent Allen to the store to get something for me but he is off playing golf for the day with his boss while I'm trying to pull this off for tonight. 

  I got back to the house and started getting a bit more nervous about having enough time to make this fabulous cake.  I melted the chocolate in the microwave with the water like it called for in the recipe inside the package of chocolate and started cooling it like your recipe said.  When it came to the eggs I remembered that I didn't have a mixer to beat those damn egg whites because it is in storage too, but I had a little one that I could manually crank so I cranked on that thing till my arm felt weak as a rag and I'd worked up a good sweat.  

 Things were a bit nerve racking there but I knew I could do it.  I got my pans ready and popped the cake in the oven.  Great!  I only had the frosting to go and it looked like the frosting had to cool for a while so I could get it all done in time.  I put everything together like the recipe called for and cooked it over medium heat for 12 minutes and removed it from the heat.   

When I put the coconut in the mixture, it was so stiff that I could barely turn my spoon around in it.  I looked at the recipe again and realized that I'd left out the whole can of milk.  I had used all my butter up in the recipe and I didn't have time to go back to the store for more. I saw some butter flavored Crisco in the cupboard so I decided to try the damn thing again and use that.  I couldn't make myself throw the other frosting away so I just put it in another pan and started another batch.   

This time I really had to hurry because I didn't have very much time left and I still had to clean up the house.  I started again with the Crisco and just started throwing stuff in the dipper but had forgotten that the burner was on part way and I my egg yolks were starting to cook in that batch like dropped eggs.  Oh my God!  I took that off the stove and dipped the hard egg yolks out of the mixture with a slotted spoon, tripping over Boggs (my 80 pound husky) who was lapping up everything I dropped on the floor. I separated more egg yolks and put some of the mixture in it a little at a time and tried to save the frosting batch again.  

 It started to thicken up but I didn't have enough coconut left. I did have that big gob of hard stuff in the other pan that had coconut in it so I grabbed some of that and flung it in to get it to thicken up more and it looked pretty good so I put the rest of the pecans in the frosting and thought that I was home free after all that mess but just had to cool the cakes and frosting.  I really thought I'd pulled it off.  But no.....all of the sudden I looked at the second batch that I'd combined some from the first batch and saw oil separating from the entire thing.   

Well, I just couldn't throw it away and didn't have time to do anything else so I squeezed the oil out of it as much as I could and set it aside again but it still started coming apart.  I drained the oil from it again and it didn't even plug the sink up so I thought to myself....things could be a lot worse here now.  I finally flopped the cakes over (some of it broke apart but I figured that the frosting could hide some of the gaps) and mashed the frosting mess between them and found that it didn't cover all the cake.  I ran out of time and had to clean the mess up before everybody got to the house.   

Allen came home and asked what I'd been doing all day and I was still trying to clean the mess up.  Judy and Charles came in and I wished him a happy birthday and told him that I'd gotten him the 5 and 3 candles.  He said that he'd just turned 52.  Allen had told me that he was born in 1948!  What next?   

At this point I am rushing around the house and Allen is telling me to hurry up and get ready because we are supposed to meet Bill and his wife for supper and then come back to the house for Charles' birthday cake.  Now, I decide that I don't give diddly about the cake but I really did.  I cleaned the house up fast and leaped into the shower.  Charles continued to joke about the ugly cake.  Supper went fine and Allen's cousin Bill looks just like his father.   

When everybody came back to the apartment for cake, the thing was tipped a bit to the right and the nuts had fallen to the side and it looked like it was covered in fudge.  I had to serve it and I did.  They all said that it was really rich and the frosting was different from any German chocolate cake they'd ever tasted.  Bill's wife thought it tasted like pralines and wanted the recipe from me.  I let her know that I couldn't duplicate it because I'd used two different recipes.  She thought I'd put brown sugar in it and didn't even know (or was too polite to comment) that everything had crystallized and separated.  Charles said that he'd probably never make it to 53 after eating the cake because his arteries had clogged shut but he said it tasted good. Allen wouldn't touch the stuff because he hates coconut.  I ate a bit of it and I could only think of the Crisco oozing from it and I insisted that Charles and Judy take the cake home with them.  Charles picked up the cake and said that he just put his back out from hefting the thing.   

Myrna, it will be a cold day in hell before I ever do that again!    

Love forever, 

Cindy

The Charade Player

The world's greatest charade player brags that he can guess any charade. A TV producer decides to use the charade player in a TV special. He issues a challenge offering the charade player a million dollars to guess a very hard charade on television. The charade player agrees.

Comes the big night, all the world is watching. The charade player is sitting on stage in front of a curtain. Music blares and the curtain opens to reveal seven nude young women.

The second and fourth ladies are holding their breasts, while the other five have their backs to him and are baring their behinds.

The charade player barely glances over them and says, "The William Tell Overture by Rossini."

The flabbergasted producer says in awe, "You've done it! That's the correct answer. You are indeed the greatest charade player!" and he hands him a check for a million bucks.

Walking out, a reporter stops the charade player and ask him how he did it.

"It's really simple," says the charade player. "One look at the positions of the seven women, and I realized it as the William Tell Overture."

"Rump... titty... rump... titty... rump... rump... rump."