I bring forth to you all an important cause.
Ever since the inception of programming, we have used things called Variables. they store our data, they help us to keep track of the ever-changing environment that is where our programs stand. But how often do we think of their rights as individuals? We instead try to optimize them away; “we don’t need that variable” or “we could make that a constant”. You self-centered bigots! All a variable asks is maybe a few bytes of memory, and possibly the ability to be thread synchronized, but you are trying to remove these little helpers as if they have no right to exist! consider the following:
public class ExampleApp
private int munused;
private int maddthis=56;
public static main(String  args)
System.out.Println("Hello from main");
x /= (++x/i++)/(maddthis*--i)
Any experienced variable killer can see that they can delete munused entirely, and that they can can convert maddthis to a constant. But what they don’t consider is that they are KILLING innocent variables! Programmers these days endeavour to learn programming practices and implement them with unfeeling and unwavering constitution, with absolutely no regard for the font families they destroy or the variables they create; it’s important to relate to your variables. your average programmer sees a temporary or unused variable as wasteful; I see a variable that is going through a scary change, who needs a friend (have you ever considered the Variables feelings when you typecast an int to a double? your just highlighting that variables shortcomings! you’re telling that variable that they are inadequate, that their data type is simply inferior to the one you are casting it to. And you know what that variable loses? It’s value. Now some other new variable is holding it’s value, and it supports floating point operations, and because of it’s type it gets twice as many bytes of storage!). Tell stories to your variables. Tell then the bible story of Variable Jesus who allowed it’s own destructor to be called, just so that all other variables can have everlasting scope. And, remember: NEVER tell your variables what their scope is. If they discover that their destructor will be called right after this quick for loop, they may go mad. “What? I only have 3 iterations left to live! I’ve lost all scope!”. Be sure your variables know their place. “All variables are created equal- it is their initialization that makes them unique”. Function Pointers have a tendency to forget that they are variables; they walk and they talk and they even have similar syntactic requirements as a function, but don’t be fooled! they are really just a variable in a functions clothing. Don’t try to call a null function pointer or the clothing has a habit of chafing.
Object Variables are possibly even worse then Function pointers. they always consider themselves superior to all the primitive types, like ints and doubles. what Object variables don’t realize is that the vtable that makes them who they are is really just a structure; a collection of function pointers. In fact, make sure your object variables know they are really just a collection of function pointers and private data. Also, educate your young object variables. “never show your privates to strangers, even if they give you memory” and never EVER let anybody put something in your back-end!
If you know somebody well enough, you might want to share certain protected variables with them, as a gesture of good faith. But you still should not trust them with your privates. they might still try to shove data in your back end.
Make sure your objects understand that they really are just the sum of their aggregate parts, and that they have their superclass to thank for almost everything. an Object is created, it is given a few pointers, and sent on it’s way.
Your standard pointer variables are pretty unpredictable too; remember that dereferencing, for a pointer variable, is a very traumatic experience. It’s also important to reduce aliasing as much as possible; to avoid indentity crises between multiple variables who meet and see that they both point to the same memory space. It’s important that you initialize pointers, as well. There is nothing more traumatic then a variable discovering it is equal to 0xCCCCCC or 0xDEADBEEF, and that it is really holding a flag. a flag of surrender. Unless the variable is French this won’t feel right for it.
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According to statistics, the leading cause of death is dying. Well I say boll… wait… dying? No no… add a layer of abstraction… Anyway, Cancer, murder, Car crashes, etc. People die in all these cases. However, while these are certainly something that we need to try to prevent and/or cure, there is also another, more serious killer that has been killing people for decades completely undetected. The giant earthworm. In fact, this particular fact can easily be gleaned from
Just think of all the people, who read the statistics about how people die, or, more often, see pie charts depicting the various causes of death, such as, for example:
Murder, Cancer, and Car accidents are the common causes that are found here. obviously there are other causes not charted, but they are pretty well constituted in the 20% used for car accidents. (for example, spelling mistakes might make a daycare accident look like it says “daves car accident” so filing these types of reports properly can be a chore. the data itself therefore could easily be flawed.
Uncle Floyd is famous for his Chili sauce, in that he has a habit of using a tad too much Cyanide. It’s also best to avoid his purple kool-aid.
Exploding hemorrhoids may sound humourous, but they are not. They are a serious ailment that affect a large portion of people. This ailment occurs in women at least once every month. they get very cranky and may seem emotional and unpredictable, and there may be blood involved. To combat this, companies have developed wads of cotton known as…. What? you mean, it’s supposed to…. from THERE? … and you let me drivel on about it being hemmoroids… damn I owe Susan an apology… No I doubt she’d accept… Yes I did use industrial grit sandpaper… No actually I lost a pipe cleaner in there… on err… where was I? Oh yes. Anyway, Exploding hemmoroids do not pick on any individual gender, and they are equally painful to both. What needs to be analyzed is what really explodes. Well, it’s a number of things; some people call exploding hemmoroids Anal aneurysms, but an aneurysm only occurs in the brain. That being said, I know people with their head far enough up their ass for this to be true, so I accept it, because it just so happens to coincide with the group of people who want to call them anal aneurysms. The explosion is caused by a build-up of blood vessels; varicose veins. they get bigger and bigger, until one day your pooping and suddenly your feeling faint, and you look and you find your gushing blood everywhere, and you have no idea what to do, since I mean, if you pull your pants up you’ll ruin them, so you kind of stumble to the drawer, gushing out bloody mary’s everywhere, you finally discover your girlfriends tampons, and well- you improvise. Anyway, long story short, you go to the doctor and are diagnosed with exploding hemmoroids. the doctor also suggests that you might want to refrain from shoving tampons up your butt, given your condition, which is, needless to say, an unpleasant one.
Dancing Accidents: these are a little bit harder to understand. I mean, sure, sometimes we’ve had a few too many and try to do the worm or something retarded like that, but the worst case scenario is pretty much that your the laughing stock at work for a month or so, or at least until you manage to photoshop all of your co-workers having a giant orgy, and then blackmail them with it to make them shut-up, and they are oddly complacent considering the evidence was fabricated, which raises a few questions. Anyway, Dancing accidents are accidental in nature, and generally involve dancing that turns tragic (accidentally, of course) through accidental accidents that occur accidentally. There are several documented ways where dancing becomes fatal.
The waltz of death: The waltz is relatively simple, however, do NOT, I repeat, do NOT purposely strangle your partner while dancing. this is NOT part of the dance manuever. Also do be careful not to get your legs tangled or you may become immobile and starve to death, even though your only one table down from the wedding cake, which is odd because your at a bar-mitzvah, which is even stranger because your not jewish.
The Tango of Terror: This involves doing the tango on higher floors of high-rises while workmen are installing new windows. you see, the tango is very strict about dancing manuevers; you must move a certain number of paces. you cannot move less, even if there is a 50 story drop. So, do NOT start dancing the tango under these conditions! by the time you realize your fate, you’ll realize that there is no stylish way to break the dance manoeuvre, and be forced to (stylishly, I might add) fall 50 or so stories to your death.
The Last Disco: Much in the fashion of the last supper painting, the Last Disco… well actually, it has nothing to do with the last supper, aside from the word last. In this particular case, the various disco moves poke the eyes out of a burly biker, who, long story short, get’s a new soup bowl shaped like your skull. The moral? Don’t piss of burly bikers. Or perhaps the lesson is simply to not disco. I suppose either point is equally valid.
Another cause of death is Getting entangled in rhubarb and starving to death. Especially ironic given one could in a worst case scenario eat the rhubarb and both free themselves and enjoy a tasty snack. It is assumed therefore that those who succumbed to this fate don’t like rhubarb enough to die rather then eat it. It’s also a fact that these people get covered in dirt while they struggle against the entwining rhubarb plant, as the rhubarb drips it’s digestive juices. in half of these cases, a giant slug eats both the rhubarb and the victim- only 10% are released from the rhubarb by a giant snail, who in 45% of said cases says something about french cuisine and puts on a beret and 50% of the time complains about his exploding hemmoroids (the other 5% is undecided according to recent gallup polls), while an additional 10% are saved from the rhubarb by spiderman, who in 60% of said cases utters “I really need to find a new hobby”.
Oh, and the last little bit? (what is it? 5%?) sure, it says “unknown” but the enlightened know that this is simply because nobody knows what it is, not because it’s not something that is known, but rather because knowing what it is is not something that anybody does. In either case, however many convoluted steps are taken in the explanation, what it really is, is death from giant earthworm. As with the threat of exploding hemmoroids, the giant earthworm is rarely heard about in the media, why? because if you see a giant earthworm, your already dead. Although I suppose that is an exaggeration, Since, if you see a giant earthworm, you couldn’t possibly be dead since you can see (blindness is a leading symptom of death), I think, what the expression means, is that, OK, your alive, but not for long.
The giant Earthworm feasts on nachos, dried tomatoes, lettuce, dead pidgeons, tofu, and of course, people. (as a saving grace the giant earthworm refuses to eat a person succumbing from exploding hemmoroids, but of course people with said condition have far worse things to worry about). When ingesting people, the earthworm first suffocates the victim by covering it with it’s gross slimey stuff, which tastes like bacon. (this often attracts fat people who serve as future meals). Once dead, The earthworm takes a minute or two to remember which side of it has it’s anus and which side has it’s mouth. Giant Earthworms who mistake the two often end up with hemmoroids if their victim is mexican. Once it does so, it feasts on the victim using it’s balleen and super powerful sucking ability, it smushes the victim into a fine paste which spreads nicely on toast. The giant earthworm travels around underground, dragging a carpetbag filled with fat people it attracted with it’s bacon slime during previous meals. The Earthworm will often use the carpetbag to beat gophers, an act known as “carpetbagging”. Once digested, it leaves castings on the surface that can often weight more then a full grown indian elephant, and smells at least as bad as the Ganges river on a bad day. These castings are often mistaken for motorbikes, but upon closer inspection, it is revealed that they are in fact giant pieces of worm crap. (although they aren’t a far cry from some of the lesser motorcycle brands). Some people have said that they in fact look like giant preparation H cannisters, but this theory is usually proven to be a delusion since these people are later discovered to have exploding hemmoroids.
Giant Earthworms make friends with the smaller, more common earthworm, but also screws their wives behind their back, when the giant earthworm finds out which side is it’s back, that is. It also borrows their stuff and never returns it, or claims it was theirs, and leaves beer cans all over the place, which is weird because the giant earthworm doesn’t drink beer. The giant earthworm, when angered, will often call these lesser worms “dirt-eaters”.
For reproduction, the Giant Earthworm has three genders: Male, Female, And Rubben Studdard. The Male and Female “get busy” (again, once they figure out which side is which). Rubben sings gospel about creation, interrupted intermittently by bouts of vomiting. The giant Earthworm’s male gender attracts the female gender by spreading it’s bacon goo in exact portions. The closer to one cup the male can get, the more likely the female will become his mate. This has led to an evolutionary scale whereby later generations have better portioning skills, what particular purpose this skill has when your face and your but are so dissimilar even you confuse them is a question that has plagued scientists for generations.
Even though the Giant Earthworm is unstoppable, you can stop it. Ok, so it isn’t unstoppable, I was saying that for effect, I mean, I could have said “the giant earthworm is not unstoppable” but I mean, come on, does that sound scary? Hell no. I mean, dammit, recognize poetic license when you see it, you pedantic douchebags. Where was I? Oh yes- you CAN stop a giant earthworm. Things you need include two squirrels, an acorn, a dead pidgeon (bait), a screenshot from the boss room of the first dungeon in the original zelda’s second quest, and a box of matches.
What you do, is you place the acorn between the two squirrels, as they fight over the nut, a giant earthworm will appear (a giant earthworm cannot help but watch a good squarrel.. I mean, quarrel). At this time you need to wrap the dead pidgeon with the screenshot paper and light it on fire with the matchstick, and throw it at the earthworm. This will scare the earthworm away. problem solved!
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or, have some cheese. cheese can solve almost anything. I mean, it could have prevented world war 2! really, I mean, germany was all feeling down because of that silly guilt clause, and had to pay reparations… but seriously… a few loafs of pumpernickel and some Butterkase would have done just fine! I mean, just send a few pallets of the stuff to the allied leaders and everything would be just fine.
Or, Has anybody wondered why the economy thrives on war efforts? huh? it’s not the making of bombs or ammo as everybody thinks, but rather the creation of fine cheeses for rations. Why, If I recall, D-day had to be pushed back a few days, since they couldn’t produce the needed amount of feta for the greek salad rations. There were some brave souls willing to go without the feta, but they were quickly hospitalized. (I mean, really, a greek salad without feta? That would be like a greek army leaving behind a wooden animal that wasn’t filled with soldiers, another point I’d like to take on in a moment).
I might also point out that lack of cheese was in fact what led to napoleon’s downfall at waterloo. you see, the french… they really like their butter. And back then, there was no margarine… wouldn’t be until ol’ Napoleon III’s time for that to happen. So, they ended up using all the milk they could get to create butter. They were literally running on the dog milk reserves by the end of each night. The cows up and quit, and as much as they loved butter they couldn’t stand the thought of yaks milk, since those things never shut up. By this time napoleon was pretty full of himself; convinced he could win.
So he made the fateful decision.
HE sent his troops into battle with nacho rations. and no cheese. This was a mistake that would mar his otherwise flawless campaign. Other theories about the battle, such as the fact that Napoleon really just wanted to climb the elm tree the duke of wellington was using as a command post, are easily dismissed; Napoleon was a short man and there was no way in hell he was going to be able to reach the branches to climb the tree; and there was no mention of napoleon having a stepladder, aside from the one he used to get the rice krispies off the top shelf, because josephine was a total prat and insisted on doing stuff like that, including that other time when she pretended to be pregnant, pretended to have a miscarriage, and then used a 3″ tall doll as proof.
He wrote in his memoirs a lot of stuff. Nothing about cheese. His autobiography, however, is a bit low on the fact scale. For example, he describes himself as a “tall, handsome man” when in fact he was a “short ugly git”. What nobody mentions is that Napoleon got all his miltary skills from playing Risk over and over, he figured that since he won every game, he can probably do it in real life, so he packed up his dice and started a campaign across italy.
Then, disaster struck. The airport mixed up his bags with that of a local Risk hussler, whose dice were weighted to always give snake eyes, or two ones. (the hussler would get his opponent(s) to use these dice, not himself, obviously). This caused quite a disastrous campaign as Napoleon set across italy to defeat all the famous Italian Risk players; Since he lost every single battle in every single game (except for the times he managed to get at least three infantry on one country, and attacked, then I suppose he’d have a chance with one dice, but even the best case scenario was him losing two infantry and his opponent losing one, which doesn’t exactly serve as a long term solution.
Thankfully for him, he was able to poison each of his opponents drinks, so they would all have terrible nipple itching. As they excused themselves (you couldn’t itch your nipples in public in those days) he would add vast swathes of armies to the board. allowing him to win the game. In an awkward twist of fate this was in fact how he met Marie Louisa, his second wife; he completely forgot about the effects of his concoction and believed her to be making passes at him.
Anyway, he met his final blow, which knocked him out of the tournament, from the Duke of Wellington, who, after eating a few pieces of his bread-wrapped beef (which we call ” beef wellington” today) he accidentally spilled some of his drink into napoleon’s white wine with perrier. This would spell disaster and at least a bit of remorse on the part of napoleon, who was completely unaware of just how unpleasant the condition can be. He lost the battle, but he won the war, so to speak. Wellington’s sister, (who’s nickname was “willingto’n” for obvious reasons that napoleon would discover first-hand) saw what appeared to be self-fondling. Anyway, one thing led to another, and they ended up starting their own marshmallow factory. Her brother was disappointed, as he had it all planned out that they would start a puffed sugar mass factory, not a marshmallow factory. He declared war on Napoleon, which, being the emperor of france, Napoleon took quite personally.
Thus mildly angered, he stormed out of the room like a 5-year old, only to return when he realized he forgot his risk board on the table. It took an entire 15 minutes for him to pack it up, since he kept throwing the little cannon things into the containers last, and when you do that, you know all sorts of the infantry are going to come flying out, so he had to look for them on the carpet, but he couldn’t find them, so he ended up having to take off his shoes and socks and walk across the carpet, (since, everybody knows you can only find pointy sharp things on the floor when your not wearing any socks or shoes). Unfortunately, to his great surprise he found this illegal and was taken into custody.
When he was finally released, he held a good amount of anger for the duke of wellington, and an equal amount for his sister, who he discovered was more then willingto’ imbezzle funds from the marshmallow factory. He went home, where he was reunited with his original baggage that he had left in his car, which had at least 35 tickets, so he then had to go to the
LFPPC, (Le Français ne peut pas conduire) to figure out what to do with his tickets. he was all “I’m the emperor, dammit” and the receptionist was all “And I’m santa claus” and he was all, “but santa clause is fat, and he’s a man- your a woman” which pretty much got him thrown out. so he put on a fake mustache and toupe, which covered his eyes. he then made romantic passes at what he believed to be the receptionist, only to remove his toupe to discover it was actually a nearby copy of McLarens, and a roomful of somewhat disgusted visitors staring at him. This was also where he learned the power of the nacho, as a nearby new-worlder asked him “eh, holmes, want a nacho?”to which, Napoleon eloquently replied:
“nous sommes en France ainsi pourquoi est tout le monde l’anglais parlant?”
Anyway, long story short, ol Napoleon had a bad day, and decided to get even. so he decided, what the hay! If I can’t win the Risk tournament, I’ll increase the stakes.
And the rest is history.
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According to Al-jazeira, Bill gates uses utorrent:
Nope- Bill was killed and replaced by the YFAIFAS,(Young Felines Attempting to Imitate Fat Opera Singers)
You see, the association wants to fatten themselves- so they need food, and thus they need money. So they brainwash bill gates by having hundreds upon hundred of cute kittens crawl in his bedroom window, and create the windows logo on his floor. Bill, so touched by this strange behaviour from what he believes to be feral cats, then calls Animal control and tells them to step on it. The Cats, realizing their plan is not going as they planned, Ripped him to shreds, placing his body in the closet (where else?). The cats, realizing Animal control was on the way, quickly performed the old army ant Bivouac manuever and put on a suite and some glasses.
When animal control got there.
“Alright Mr. Gates, we brought the grenade launcher, where are the cats.”
the cats quickly realized that they had no vocal cords and could not speak, and they couldn’t meow the answer because it would seem unprofessional. So the cat forming the face did the only thing he could do. He coughed up a hairball.
Anyway to cut a long story short they had to lock the animal control officer in the closet and throw away the key. Which is amazing considering their lack of opposable thumbs; or digits, for that matter. The cats, whose association grew with the addition of two neighborhood kittens, Opal and Glit-Glit, continued their onward march.
Unfortunately, it was the middle of the night and they looked like bill gates, so it wasn’t long before the cats noticed a group of muggers (they hunt in packs) following them. The cat’s quickened their pace but it was to no avail. the muggers caught up, and it was revealed that the muggers were in fact also Cats, from the OCAWYCAFALWCFOD (Old Cats Against Whatever the Young Cats Are For and Also Like Wet Cat Food as Opposed to Dry).
the old cats outnumbered the young cats three to one, but the young cats had a secret weapon. Quickly, they tossed out a yarn ball at the older cats.
Imagine the young cats horror when not only were the less playful older cats unphased by this, but half the young cats bolted out of the “costume” after the ball.
Their numbers thus dwindled, the young felines had no choice but to surrender. But before they could, spidercat came from the shadows, and along with batcat, spat out hairballs and left. the Old cats, confused and forgetting what was going on, began meowing about the state of their eyesight and what they did as kittens. Taking advantage of thier confusion, the young cats bolted, leaving behind the empty shell of a bill gates costume. The old cats, half of which had recovered from their confusion, followed then at a lazy pace. Only to be met with their arch-rivals, the LPBWUB(Lizards painted to blend in With Unconventional Backgrounds) The cats, now thoroughly confused (as any readers will be) ran back the other way, and found their only disguise- the Bill gates shell discarded by those darned young felines, who by now had regrouped….
Anyway- it’s a bit round-about, but eventually they state the quote provided by Al-jazeira, in their first moves at controlling the grain.
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