Erudite Relics of Loc Huu Ho

Found this Sunday Computer Humour on my INFP mailing list:

The Lord is my Server; I shall not crash. God makes me to reboot
in clear transmissions. God leads me to abundant bytes. God restores
my programs. God leads me in the world wide web towards righteousness.
Yea, though I walk through an internet of malware I will fear no virus,
for You are with me. Your antivirus and Your firewall, they comfort me.
You prepare a place before me in the presence of hackers. You anoint my
uploads with oil; my cup is filled to overflowing with positive downloads.
Surely, windows and macintosh shall allow me good days of life, and I will
dwell in the computer of the Lord forever, Amen.

We must polish the Polish furniture.
He could lead if he would get the lead out.
The farm was used to produce produce.
The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
The soldier decided to desert in the desert.
This was a good time to present the present.
A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
I did not object to the object.
The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
The bandage was wound around the wound.
There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
They were too close to the door to close it.
The buck does funny things when the does are present.
They sent a sewer down to stitch the tear in the sewer line.
To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
After a number of injections my jaw got number.
Upon seeing the tear in my clothes I shed a tear.
I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
I read it once and will read it agenI learned much from this learned treatise.
I was content to note the content of the message.
The Blessed Virgin blessed her. Blessed her richly.
It’s a bit wicked to over-trim a short wicked candle.
If he will absent himself we mark him absent.
I incline toward bypassing the incline.

An egotist is not only selfish; he is usually ridiculous as well, for he sets us to wondering as to any possible ground for his exalted opinion of himself. The real workers do not emphasize their superiority to other people, do not even emphasize the differences, but are grateful that they may share in humanity’s privilege of rendering service.

Two little raindrops were born in a shower,
And one was so pompously proud of his power,
He got in his head an extravagant notion
He’d hustle right off and swallow the ocean.
A blade of grass that grew by the brook
Called for a drink, but no notice he took
Of such trifling things. He must hurry to be
Not a mere raindrop, but the whole sea.
A stranded ship needed water to float,
But he could not bother to help a boat.
He leaped in the sea with a puff and a blare–
And nobody even knew he was there!

But the other drop as along it went
Found the work to do for which it was sent:
It refreshed the lily that drooped its head,
And bathed the grass that was almost dead.
It got under the ships and helped them along,
And all the while sang a cheerful song.
It worked every step of the way it went,
Bringing joy to others, to itself content.
At last it came to its journey’s end,
And welcomed the sea as an old-time friend.
“An ocean,” it said, “there could not be
Except for the millions of drops like me.”

Joseph Morris

As necessity is the mother of invention, strong desire is the mother of attainment.

If you want a thing bad enough
To go out and fight for it,
Work day and night for it,
Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it
If only desire of it
Makes you quite mad enough
Never to tire of it,
Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it
If life seems all empty and useless without it
And all that you scheme and you dream is about it,
If gladly you’ll sweat for it,
Fret for it,
Plan for it,
Lose all your terror of God or man for it,
If you’ll simply go after that thing that you want,
With all your capacity,
Strength and sagacity,
Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity,
If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt,
Nor sickness nor pain
Of body or brain
Can turn you away from the thing that you want,
If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it,
You’ll get it!

Berton Braley.

From “Things As They Are.”

Garibaldi, the Italian patriot, said to his men: “I do not promise you ease; I do not promise you comfort. I promise you hardship, weariness, suffering; but I promise you victory.” Read the rest of this entry »