Text 4114, 216 rader
Skriven 2006-05-05 08:13:20 av Greg Sears (3:633/104)
     Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: Golf Handicap
=========================
   -=> 02-May-2006 22:16, George Pope wrote in a message to Greg Sears <=-

 GP> A businessman was attending a conference in Africa. He had a free

   FREE..  MEDICAL RESEARCHERS TABULATING written cases in which items
were recovered from the rectums of patients reported 700 items from 200
patients.  The items included: a live, shaved, declawed gerbil: a
bottle of Mrs.  Butterworth's syrup: an Ax handle: a 9-inch zucchini:
a 14-inch vibrator with two D-cell batteries: a plastic spatula, a
9-1/2-inch water bottle: a Coke Bottle: a 3-1/2inch Japanese Float ball:
an 11-inch carrot: an antenna rod: a 150-Watt light bolb: a screwdriver:
four rubber balls: 72 jewelers saws(all from the same patient, 29 at one
time): a paperweight: an apple: an onion: a plastic toothbrush package:
a frozen pig's tail (which got stuck after it thawwd): a 10-inch length
of broomstick: an 18-inch umbrella handle: a banana encased in a condom:
two Vaseline jars: a whisky bottle with a cord attached: a teacup; an
oil can; a 6 by 5-inch tool box (weighing 22 ounces); a 6-inch stone
weighing two-pounds; a baby powder can; a test tube; a ballpoint pen; a
peanut butter jar; a flashlight; a turnip; a pair of eyeglasses; a
hard-boiled egg; several tumblers and glasses; a file; a polyethylene
waste trap from the U-Bend of a sink and a carborundum grindstone
handle.


> OBJoke: for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant

               DEC WARS
         The Adventures of Luke Vaxhacker

  As we enter the scene, an Imperial Multiplexer is trying to kill a
consulate ship.  Many of their signals have gotten thru, and RS232
decides it's time to fork off a new process before this old ship is
destroyed.  His companion, 3CPU is following him only because he appears
to know where he is going...
  "I'm going to regret this!" cried 3CPU, as he followed RS232 into the
buffer.  RS232 closed the pipes, made the sys call, and their process
detached itself from the burning shell of the ship.
  The commander of the Imperial Multiplexer was quite pleased with the
attack.  "Another process just forked, Sir.  Instructions?" asked the
lieutenant "Hold your fire.  That last power failure must have caused a
trap thru zero.  It's not using any cpu time, so don't waste a signal on
it."
  "We can't seem to find the data file anywhere, Lord Vadic." "What
about that forked process?  It could have been holding the channel open,
and just pausing.  If any links exist, I want them removed or made
inaccessible.  Ncheck the entire file system 'til it's found, and nice
it if you have to."
  Meanwhile, in our wandering process...  "Are you sure you can ptrace
this thing without causing a core dump?" queried 3CPU to RS232.  "This
thing's been stripped and I'm in no mood to try and debug it." The lone
process finished execution, only to find our friends dumped on a lonely
file system, with the setuid inode stored safely in RS232.  Not knowing
what else to do, they wandered around until the Jawas grabbed them.
  Enter our hero, Luke Vaxhacker, who was out to get some replacement
parts for his uncle.  The Jawas wanted to sell him 3CPU, but 3CPU didn't
know how to talk directly to an 11/40 with RSTS, so Luke still needed
some sort of interface for 3CPU to connect to.  "How about this little
RS232 unit?" asked 3CPU.  "I've dealt with him many time before, and he
does an excellent job at keeping his bits straight." Luke was pressed
for time, so he took 3CPU's advice and the three left before they could
get swapped out.
  However, RS232 was not the type to stay put once you remove the
retaining screws.  He promptly scurried off into the deserted disk
space.  "Great!" cried Luke, "Now I've got this little tin box with the
only link to that file off floating in the free disk space.  Well, 3CPU,
we better go find him before he gets allocated by someone else." The two
set off, and finally traced RS232 to the home of PDP-1 Kenobe, who was
busily trying to run an icheck on the little RS unit.  "Is this thing
yours?  His indirect addresses are all goofed up, and the size is
gargantious.  Leave things like this on the loose, and you'll wind up
with file dumps everywhere.  However, I think I've got him fixed up.  It
seems that he has a link to a data file on the Are-Em Star.  This could
help the rebel cause." "I don't care about that," said Luke.  "I'm just
trying to optimize my uncle's scheduler."
  Oh, forget about that.  Dec Vadic, who is responsible for your
father's death, has probably already destroyed his farm in search of
this little RS232.  It's time for you to leave this place, join the
rebel cause, and become a UNIX wizard!  I know a guy by the name of Con
Solo, who'll fly us to the rebel base at a price..."
  Luke had grown up on an out of the way terminal cluster whose natives
spoke only BASIC, but even he could recognize an old ASR-33.
  "It needs an EIA conversion at least," sniffed 3CPU, who was (as
usual) trying to do several things at once.  Light flashed in Con Solo's
eyes as he whirled to face the parallel processor.
  "I've added a few jumpers.  The Milliamp Falcon can run current loops
around any Imperial TTY fighter.  She's fast enough for you."
  "Who's your co-pilot?" asked PDP-1 Kenobie.
  "Two Bacco, here, my Bookie."
  "Odds aren't good," said the brownish lump beside him, and then fell
silent, or over.  Luke couldn't tell which way was up underneath all
those leaves.
  Suddenly, RS232 started spacing wildly.  They turned just in time to
see a write cycle coming down the UNIBUS toward them.  "Imperial Bus
Signals!" shouted Con Solo.  "Let's boot this popsicle stand!  Tooie,
set clock fast!"
  "Ok, Con," said Luke, "You said this crate was fast enough.  Get us
out of here!"
  "Shut up kid!  Two Bacco, prepare to make the jump into system
space!  I'll try to keep their buffers full."
  As the bookie began to compute the vectors into low core, spurious
characters appeared around the Milliamp Falcon.  "They're firing!"
shouted Luke "Can't you do something?"
  "Making the jump to system space takes time, kid.  One missed cycle
and you could come down right in the middle of a pack of stack frames!"
  "Three to five we can go now," said the bookie.
  Bright chunks of position independent code flashed by the cockpit as
the Milliamp Falcon jumped through the kernal page tables.  As the crew
breathed a sigh of relief, the bookie started paying off bets.
"Not bad, for an accoustically coupled network," REMarked 3CPU.  "Though
there was a little phase jitter as we changed parity."

  The story thus far: Luke, PDP-1, and their 'droids RS232 and 3CPU
have made good their escape from the Imperial Bus Signals with the aid
of Con Solo and the bookie, Two Bacco.  The Milliamp Falcon hurtles
onward through system space.  Meanwhile, on a distant page in user
space...
  Princess _LPA0: was ushered into the conference room, followed
closely by Dec Vadic.  "Governor Tarchive," she spat, "I should have
expected to find you holding Vadic's lead.  I recognized your unique
pattern when I was first brought aboard." She eyed the 0177545 tatooed
on his header coldly.
  "Charming to the last," Tarchive declared menacingly.  "Vadic, have
you retrieved any information?"
  "Her resistance to the logic probe is considerable," Vadic rasped.
"Perhaps we would get faster results if we increased the supply
voltage..."
  "You've had your chance, Vadic".  Now I would like the princess to
witness the test that will make this workstation fully operational.
Today we enable the -r beam option, and we've chosen the princess'
$HOME of /usr/alderaan as the primary target."
  "No!  You can't!  /usr/alderaan is a public account, with no
restricted permissions.  We have no backup tapes!  You can't..."
  "Then name the rebel inode!" Tarchive snapped.
  A voice announced over a hidden speaker that they had arrived in
/usr.
  "1248," she whispered, "They're on /dev/rm3.  Inode 1248." She turned
away.
  Tarchive sighed with satisfaction.  "There, you see Lord Vadic?  She
can be reasonable.  Proceed with the operation."
  It took several clock cycles for the words to penetrate.  "What!"
_LPA0: gasped.
  "/dev/rm3 is not a mounted filesystem." Tarchive explained.  "We
require a more visible subject to demonstrate the power of the RM STAR
workstation.  We will mount an attack on /mnt/dantooine as soon as
possible."
  As the princess watched, Tarchive reached over and typed "ls" on a
nearby terminal.  There was a brief pause, there being only one
processor on board, and the viewscreen showed, ".: not found."
  The princess suddenly double-spaced and went off-line.

  The Milliamp Falcon hurtles on thru system space...  Con Solo
finished checking the various control and status registers, finally
convinced himself that they had lost the Bus Signals as they passed the
terminator.  As he returned from the I/O page, he smelled smoke.  Solo
wasn't concerned--the Bookie always got a little hot under the collar
when he was losing at chess.  In fact, RS232 had just executed a
particularly clever MOV that had blocked the Bookie's data paths.  The
Bookie, who had been setting the odds on the game, was caught holding
all the cards.  A little strange for a chess game...
  Across the room, Luke was too busy practicing bit-slice technique to
notice the commotion.
  "On a word boundary, Luke," said PDP-1.  "Don't just hack at it.
Remember, the Bytesaber is the weapon of the Red-eye Night.  It is used
to trim offensive lines of code.  Excess handwaving won't get you
anywhere.
Listen for the Carrier."
  Luke turned back to the drone, which was humming quietly in the air
next to him.  This time Luke's actions complemented the drone's attacks
perfectly.
  Con Solo, being an unimaginative hacker, was not impressed.  "Forget
this bit-slicing stuff.  Give me a good PROM blaster any day."
  "~~j~~hhji~~," Said Kenobie, with no clear inflection.  He fell
silent for a moment, and reasserted his control.
  "What happened?" asked Luke
  "Strange," said PDP-1.  "I felt a momentary glitch in the carrier.
It's equalized now."
  "We're coming up on user space," called Solo from the CSR.  As they
cruised safely thru stack frames, they emerged in the new context only
to be bombarded by freeblocks."
  "What the..." gasped Solo.  The screen showed clearly: /usr/alderaan:
not found "It's the right inode, but it's been cleared!  Twoie, where's
the nearest file?"
  "3 to 5 there's one..." The Bookie started to say, but was
interrupted by a bright flash off to the left.
  "Imperial TTY fighters!" Shouted Solo.  "A whole DZ of them!  Where
are they coming from?"
  "Can't be far from the host system," said Kenobie.  "They all have
direct EIA connections."
  As Solo began to give chase, the ship lurched suddenly.  Luke noticed
the link count was at 3 and climbing rapidly.
  "This is no regular file," murmured Kenobie.  "Look at the ODS
directory structure ahead!  They seem to have us in a tractor beam."
  "There's no way we'll unlink in time," Said Solo.  "We're going
in..."

You can take it from here...


> OBJoke: for Mr. <+]::-{(} ("Cyberpope")

  You can never surprise a woman...  You can only do something before
she expects you to!



         ._ _.
 Cheers /(. .)\    )
  from    (*)____/Ý
  I       /       Ý
  C      /   Ý--\ Ý
  E-man (_)(_)  (_)  AWGTHTGTTSA

... ÜßÜßÜÜßÜßÜÜßÜßÜ ‹ DRi¥K tì màkˆ éÂhÉ© pˆ•plä ¡Nt‰R‰StiïG. ßÜßÜßßÜßÜßßÜßÜ

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 * Origin: Afraid of the competition? We ARE the Competition! (3:633/104)