TSA Jack: Celebratin’ Your Preferences

“Hi, J …”

Stop!

Dammit, Jack, you just no fun no more. If it no for the dividend checks …”

“So what part a ‘no jokes on duty’ don’t ya get, Juan? Y’want the checks ta keep comin’, follow tha rules.”

Si, si, Jack, I do what it takes to keep ‘em comin’. Nice checks. You got somethin’ nuevo?”

“Jeez. Is everybody on this crew a Pinocchio?”

“Pinocchio?”

“‘Cause ya all got big noses.”

“Yeah? Well, we no puppets, gringo.”

“Ya sure about that? Awright, awright. Just remember I got ears, hombre.”

“I remember, Jack.”

“So we’ve got the terminals pretty much locked down. We’re expandin’ onta the planes. Ya know the vid screens they’re buildin’ inta the backs a all the seats now?”

“Yeah. You buy TV, you buy movies. But not everybody buy.”

“Right. So we run ads on ‘em. Captive audience. Sweet income source.”

“Like the ads in the tray liners that you put your laptops an’ sneakers on in the line, si? But don’t everybody just turn the screens off?”

“Ya’d be surprised how many don’t, Juan. An’ who says we gotta let anybody turn ‘em off?”

¡Ai! We can do that?”

“We’re doin’ trial runs now. Runnin’ ads after the safety vid, the one that tells ya ta buckle your seat belt an’ stuff. Ya see an’ hear ‘em or else. If that flies …”

¡Pesos!

Ka-CHING is right, hombre.”

“Yeah … but …”

“But what?

“How long we keep this goin’, huh? How many terrorists we catch? Billions of dollars an’ no fish in the net.”

“Juan. Don’t be a bigger dope than ya can help. We ain’t caught nobody, an’ we ain’t gonna. Yer a terrorist, ya don’t storm a guarded gate. Ya look for one that no one’s watchin’.”

“So how we gonna win? Throw mucho bucks at every chink in the wall?”

“Not our problem, Juan. We only gotta pay attention ta this one. An’ make everythin’ we can outa doin’ so, while we can.”

“OK …”

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Tax Day

Dude and Dude

“So, dude, this dude walks up to me an’ asks ‘Have you filed yet?’”

“An’ you said …?”

“I said, like, ‘What, dude? Have I broken a fingernail or somethin’?'”

“Du-uuude!

“Funny, he said somethin’ like that. ‘Yeah, yeah, swish swish.’”

“Uh huh.”

“Then he goes, ‘So what part of income tax don’t you understand?’”

“That’s easy. Income!”

“Word. What I don’t get is, if you ain’t got income, how come ya gotta do all the paperwork anyway?

“Same answer, dude.”

“Yeah?”

Somebody’s gotta read all them forms. And they ain’t gonna work fer free. Especially they ain’t gonna work for the gummint fer free.”

“Dude?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so smart …”

TSA Jack

“Hi, Ja … Jeez! Leggo!

“No jokes on duty, dammit, Mario. Capisce?

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”

“I speak knuckle sandwich too. Shall I demonstrate?”

“Ah, no, I’ll take your word for it. Especially today. I hate this day worse than all the others. It’s no wonder you’re edgy.”

“Me? Nah. We got procedures. We follow ‘em. No reason to be concerned.”

“Yeah? But they got Al Capone on tax evasion, when they couldn’t get him on his rackets. What about our …”

“Capone was a rookie. We know better. Relax.”

“OK, Jack …”

But no jokes on duty!

Screwtape The Third

“Have you got a report on our Mr. Capone, Wormsap?”

“Troublesome as usual, sir. He keeps trying to boss his unit, which is one of the largest in the Estates. He doesn’t like our rules and regulations, and he doesn’t get that, around here, just about everybody is a stoolie.”

“His punishment?”

“Assignment to our internal revenue office, where he has to process forms. With, of course, all of our corporate rules of conduct in full force. That does tend to keep him contained for awhile. He hates the work, and he hates the memories associated with the work.”

“I trust you’re continuing to funnel demons into those same offices topside.”

“Of course. Taxes, all aspects of ‘em including setting, prosecuting, and, naturally, evading, are our biggest source of contracts.”

“Attaboy, Wormsap.”

Reg and Syd

“So, Reg, this fellow walks up to me and asks, ‘Have you filed yet?’”

“Was he carrying a picket sign?”

“As if I would have spoken with him if he were. I said ‘Filed?’ And he said ‘Yes, filed. It’s tax day. What part of income tax don’t you understand?’”

“That’s easy. Income!”

Taxable income, anyway.”

“Some people just don’t get it, do they, Syd? Shall we go down to the bar?”

Posted in Dude and Dude, humor, Reg and Syd, Screwtape III, TSA Jack | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Screwtape The Third: Computing R Us

“Wormsap, you’re looking positively diabolical. What’s up?”

“Well, sir, it is that most devilish time of year.”

“Yes, yes. All those devout, sanctimonious Christians raging on about how eggs are really Lucifer’s testicles [snort!], and they can’t even figure out that the name they’ve picked for their highest holy day is that of a pagan god!

“Don’t forget all those contracts we get from people screaming at each other while they try to put together Easter shows. ‘Services’. They sure as H.E.L.L. serve us!

“Old news, Wormsap. You’ve gotten your snout into something new. Spill. Or were you thinking about your latest plot with that Printphubar demon you like so much?”

“Nono, sir, nothing like that I assure you! I went to investigate a disturbance in the Technology Terraces. Our Mr. Jobs is having a hard time settling into the routine, and the Peace Goblins were paying him another, ah, visit.”

“We are a Microsoft shop. Mr. Jobs will use Microsoft and like it, and learn to abide by our rules and regulations. His outbursts may have gotten him deified topside. They will not be tolerated here. Is that all?”

“Hardly, sir. The commotion attracted the attention of the residents in the Philosophy Pavilion, and the shade of Karl Marx came over to investigate.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“Slowly. You see, when I saw Marx coming, I changed H.E.L.L.’s common language to Old Norse. The closest word that Marx could find for ‘opium’ was ‘mead’, which stirred the honey pot nicely. I have no idea how Jobs expressed the concept of a central processing unit.”

“I take it they managed eventually?”

“Oh, did they ever! When Marx figured out what Jobs had done topside, which was to dump boatloads of fancy toys on the market that distracted people from the overall collapse of their standard of living, while he made untold billions of dollars, Marx yelled out ‘So, now, computers are the opiates of the masses!’ and went for Jobs’s neck. The Peace Goblins had to separate them. They both got citations, of course.”

“I should hope so. Just as I hope that you’ve made suitable arrangements for Mr. Gates, when he gets here.”

“Indeed, sir. In the cell adjacent to Mr. Jobs. With Mr. Brin on the opposite side. With only paper screens separating them – and strict instructions forbidding any physical damage to the screen, or any bright lights (computer projections, for instance) or loud noises passing through them. And all of them will be paraded daily to the Philosophy Pavilion for panel discussions chaired by Mr. Marx.”

Evil, Wormsap. Evil.

“Thank you, sir. Care to join me for, ah, testicle rolling?”

“I have to write up your report for the Board. Have pain.”

Posted in computers, satire, Screwtape III | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment