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Digging up Barbie

Ok, the story behind this... There's this nutball who digs things out of his back yard and sends the stuff he finds to the Smithsonian Institute, labeling them with scientific names, insisting that they are actual archeological finds.

Anyway... here's a letter from the Smithsonian Institute from when he sent them a Barbie doll head.

Paleoanthropology Division
Smithsonian Institute
207 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20078

Dear Sir:

Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labeled "211-D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post. Hominid skull." We have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination, and regret to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents "conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man in Charleston County two million years ago." Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie doll, of the variety one of our staff, who has small children, believes to be the "Malibu Barbie".

It is evident that you have given a great deal of thought to the analysis of this specimen, and you may be quite certain that those of us who are familiar with your prior work in the field were loathe to come to contradiction with your findings. However, we do feel that there are a number of physical attributes of the specimen which might have tipped you off to it's modern origin:

  1. The material is molded plastic. Ancient hominid remains are typically fossilized bone.
  2. The cranial capacity of the specimen is approximately 9 cubic centimeters, well below the threshold of even the earliest identified proto-hominids.
  3. The dentition pattern evident on the "skull" is more consistent with the common domesticated dog than it is with the "ravenous man-eating Pliocene clams" you speculate roamed the wetlands during that time. This latter finding is certainly one of the most intriguing hypotheses you have submitted in your history with this institution, but the evidence seems to weigh rather heavily against it. Without going into too much detail, let us say that:
    1. The specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll that a dog has chewed on.
    2. Clams don't have teeth.
It is with feelings tinged with melancholy that we must deny your request to have the specimen carbon dated. This is partially due to the heavy load our lab must bear in its normal operation, and partly due to carbon dating's notorious inaccuracy in fossils of recent geologic record. To the best of our knowledge, no Barbie dolls were produced prior to 1956 AD, and carbon dating is likely to produce wildly inaccurate results.

Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the National Science Foundation's Phylogeny Department with the concept of assigning your specimen the scientific name "Australopithecus spiff-arino." I fought tenaciously for the acceptance of your proposed taxonomy, but was ultimately voted down because the species name you selected was hyphenated, and didn't really sound like it might be Latin.

However, we gladly accept your generous donation of this fascinating specimen to the museum. While it is undoubtedly not a hominid fossil, it is, nonetheless, yet another riveting example of the great body of work you seem to accumulate here so effortlessly. You should know that our Director has reserved a special shelf in his own office for the display of the specimens you have previously submitted to the Institution, and the entire staff speculates daily on what you will happen upon next in your digs at the site you have discovered in your back yard. We eagerly anticipate your trip to our nation's capital that you proposed in your last letter, and several of us are pressing the Director to pay for it. We are particularly interested in hearing you expand on your theories surrounding the "trans-positating fillifitation of ferrous ions in a structural matrix" that makes the excellent juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex femur you recently discovered take on the deceptive appearance of a rusty 9-mm Sears Craftsman automotive crescent wrench.

Yours in Science,

Harvey Rowe
Curator, Antiquities


The Haircut

A man walked in to Joe's Barber Shop for his regular haircut. As he snips away, Joe asks "What's up?"

The man proceeds to explain he's taking a vacation to Rome.

"ROME?!" Joe says, "Why would you want to go there? It's a crowded dirty city full of Italians! You'd be crazy to go to Rome! So how ya getting there?"

"We're taking TWA," the man replies.

"TWA?!" yells Joe. "They're a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly and they're always late! So where you staying in Rome?"

The man says "We'll be at the downtown International Marriot."

"That DUMP?!" says Joe. "That's the worst hotel in the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly and slow and they're overpriced! So whatcha doing when you get there?"

The man says "We're going to go see the Vatican and hope to see the Pope."

"HA! That's rich!" laughs Joe. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on THIS trip. You're going to need it!"

A month later, the man comes in for his regular haircut. Joe says, "Well, how did that trip to Rome turn out? Betcha TWA gave you the worst flight of your life!"

"No, quite the opposite" explained the man. "Not only were we on time in one of their brand new planes, but it was full and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a beautiful 28 year old flight attendant who waited on me hand and foot!"

"Hmmm," Joe says, "Well, I bet the hotel was just like I described."

"No, quite the opposite! They'd just finished a $25 million remodelling. It's the finest hotel in Rome, now. They were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the Presidential suite for no extra charge!"

"Well," Joe mumbles, "I KNOW you didn't get to see the Pope!"

"Actually, we were quite lucky. As we toured the Vatican, a Swiss guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained the Pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into this private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, after 5 minutes the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand. I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me."

Impressed, Joe asks, "Tell me, please! What'd he say?"

"Oh, not much really. Just 'Where'd you get that bad haircut?'"


Just Desserts

There's these two French Legionnaires in the desert, and they've been separated from their unit and are lost. The've been wandering for several days without food and water, and are nearly resigned to the fact that they will soon die from dehydration, when as they reach the top of a sand dune, they see a big, bustling market laid out before them.

Naturally, they can't believe their eyes and think it's a mirage, but as they draw closer, they can hear the stallholders' cries, and they eventually reach the market and realise that it's really there.

So the legionnaires rush up to the first stall they can and cry to the stallholder, "Stallholder, we have been travelling in the desert for many days, and have had no food or water. We shall surely die soon unless you have some you can sell us - tell us, do you have any sustenance for us?"

The stallholder shook his head and replied "I'm sorry, French Legionnaire type people, but all I have to sell is a load of bowls full of jelly,topped with custard and cream, and lovingly sprinkled with hundreds and thousands."

The legionnaires look at each other, mildly surprised, and move on to the next stall, where they ask the stallholder, "Mr purveyor of fine foodstuffs and the like, we have been travelling through the desert for days, deprived of the necessary beverages and foodstuffs which are required for survival. We shall surely die soon, unless you can sell us some skins of water."

The stallholder looked at them embarressed, and confessed "Gentlemen, tragic as I admit it is, I have none of the ingredients necessary to life for which you ask me...all I have to sell is this large bowl of jelly topped with custard and cream and sprinkled with hundreds and thousands, with a little cocktail cherry in the middle at the top - there," he said, pointing out the glace cherry. "I cannot help you.."

The legionnaires look at each other in desparation, and run on to the next stall, where they demand of the stallholder, "Look mate," (cos they'd stopped talking funny all of a sudden) "we need water or we'll die. We've been travelling without water for days and need some now. Do you have any you can sell us?"

The stallholder looked at his curl-ended shoes in shame as he confessed, "Sorry, fellas, all I have to sell you is a bowl of jelly, with custard, cream and hundreds and thousands. I can't help you. I'll have to condemn you to a long and lingering death through dehydration."

The legionnaires were really worried by this point, and they went through the market, stall by stall, asking each stallholder whether they had any water they could sell them, and thus save their lives, but each stallholder gave the same reply, all they had to sell was a bowl of jelly with cream, custard and hundreds and thousands.

Dejected and resigned to their grim fate, the legionnaires left the desert market and walked off into the setting sun. As they did so, one turned to the other and said, "That was really odd - a big market in the middle of nowhere, and all they sold was bowls of jelly with custard, cream and hundreds and thousands." The other turned to face his companion and replied, "Yes, it was a trifle bazaar"


Nerd Hunting

A truck driver hauling a tractor-trailer load of computers stops for a beer. As he approaches the bar he sees a big sign on the door saying "NERDS NOT ALLOWED -- ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!" He goes in and sits down.

The bartender comes over to him, sniffs, says he smells kind of nerdy, asks him what he does for a living. The truck driver says he drives a truck, and the smell is just from the computers he is hauling. The bartender says OK, truck drivers are not nerds, and serves him a beer.

As he is sipping his beer, a skinny guy walks in with tape around his glasses, a pocket protector with twelve kinds of pens and pencils, and a belt at least a foot too long. The bartender, without saying a word, pulls out a shotgun and blows the guy away. The truck driver asks him why he did that. The bartender said not to worry, the nerds are overpopulating the Silicon Valley, and are in season now. You don't even need a license, he said.

So the truck driver finishes his beer, gets back in his truck, and heads back onto the freeway. Suddenly he veers to avoid an accident, and the load shifts. The back door breaks open and computers spill out all over the freeway. He jumps out and sees a crowd already forming, grabbing up the computers. They are all engineers, accountants and programmers wearing the nerdiest clothes he has ever seen. He can't let them steal his whole load. So remembering what happened in the bar, he pulls out his gun and starts blasting away, felling several of them instantly.

A highway patrol officer comes zooming up and jumps out of the car screaming at him to stop. The truck driver said, "What's wrong? I thought nerds were in season." "Well, sure," said the patrolman, "But you can't bait 'em."


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