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Ok, Ok!!
This sketch has already been done by Monty Python....
On Sat, 12 Apr 2003 02:22 pm, Bob Jagow wrote:
> What's Fortran, d?
> I programmed a 650 pre Backus [Assembly].
> You ran the code thru its 'optiming assembler' to arrange the drum storage
> such that it would be in sequence when the drum heads made their rounds.
>
> The other intriging feature of the pre-digital [vacuum-tubed] 650 was that
> it used base-10 [BCD] numbers, and stored and displayed them as 0 or 1 in
> 2-digit and 5-digit fields.
>
> OlderBob
> -----Original Message-----
> From: dingo [mailto:dingo@xxxxxxxxxx]
> Sent: Friday, April 11, 2003 5:01 PM
> To: amibroker@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> Subject: RE: [amibroker] Re: Cumulative Profits Column
>
>
> I really don’t understand what’s going on with your csv’s. I suggest you
> box it up and send to support@xxxxxxxxxxxxx and see what “they” have to
> say.
>
>
>
> GOOD GRIEF!! You’re old too! I think you just may be older than me – I
> worked on a Univac 1004 as well as Fortran on a 1620.
>
>
>
> d
Four well-dressed men sitting together at a vacation resort. "Farewell to
Thee" being played in the background on Hawaiian guitar.
Michael: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable.
Graham: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chassilier wine, ay Gessiah?
Terry: You're right there Obediah.
Eric: Who'd a thought thirty years ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking
Chateau de Chassilier wine?
Michael: Aye. In them days, we'd a' been glad to have the price of a cup o'
tea.
Graham: A cup ' COLD tea.
Eric: Without milk or sugar.
Terry: OR tea!
Michael: In a filthy, cracked cup.
Eric: We never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up
newspaper.
Graham: The best WE could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
Terry: But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
Michael: Aye. BECAUSE we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money
doesn't buy you happiness."
Eric: 'E was right. I was happier then and I had NOTHIN'. We used to live in
this tiiiny old house, with greaaaaat big holes in the roof.
Graham: House? You were lucky to have a HOUSE! We used to live in one room,
all hundred and twenty-six of us, no furniture. Half the floor was missing;
we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of FALLING!
Terry: You were lucky to have a ROOM! *We* used to have to live in a corridor!
Michael: Ohhhh we used to DREAM of livin' in a corridor! Woulda' been a palace
to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woken up
every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House!?
Hmph.
Eric: Well when I say "house" it was only a hole in the ground covered by a
piece of tarpolin, but it was a house to US
Graham: We were evicted from *our* hole in the ground; we had to go and live
in a lake!
Terry: You were lucky to have a LAKE! There were a hundred and sixty of us
living in a small shoebox in the middle of the road.
Michael: Cardboard box?
Terry: Aye.
Michael: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a brown paper bag in a
septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, clean
the bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down mill for fourteen hours
a day week in-week out. When we got home, out Dad would thrash us to sleep
with his belt!
Graham: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the
morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at the mill
every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the
head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were LUCKY!
Terry: Well we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at
twelve o'clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had
half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the
mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice
us in two with a bread knife.
Eric: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an
hour before I went to bed, (pause for laughter), eat a lump of cold poison,
work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to
come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on
our graves singing "Hallelujah."
Michael: But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't
believe ya'.
ALL: Nope, nope.
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