Be Politically Correct With Men
How To Be Politically Correct With Men

He does not have a FAT BEER GUT - He has developed a LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY.

He is not a BAD DANCER - He is OVERLY CAUCASIAN.

He does not GET LOST ALL THE TIME - He INVESTIGATES ALTERNATIVE DESTINATIONS.

He is not BALDING - He is in FOLLICLE REGRESSION.

He is not a CRADLE SNATCHER - He prefers GENERATIONALLY DIFFERENTIAL RELATIONSHIPS.

He does not get FALLING-DOWN DRUNK - He becomes ACCIDENTALLY HORIZONTAL.

He is not a MALE CHAUVINIST PIG - He is a SWINE EMPATHIZING BIGOT.

He is not afraid of COMMITMENT - He is MONOGAMOUSLY CHALLENGED.

He does not STINK - He has HYGIENE AVERSION SYNDROME.

He is not OBSESSED WITH TELEVISED SPORTS - He has AN ATHLETIC TELEVISUAL ADDICTION.

He does not IGNORE YOU - He has ATTENTION SPAN DEFICIT DISORDER.

He is not a LAZY, MESSY SLOB - He LACKS HAND-VACUUM COORDINATION.

He does not tell ENDLESS, BORING, UNFUNNY JOKES - He is HUMORLY OVER-CONFIDENT.

An Internet Christmas
T'was the Internet Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hacker's a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.


The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).

When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!!

I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.

When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then Nick glanced toward my screen, my Mac called them by name;

"Now Compaq! Now Acer!", my speaker did reel;
"On Apple! On Gateway!" Santa started to squeal!
"Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip!
Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!"

The screen gave a flicker, he was into my "Ram",
Then into my room rose a full hologram!
He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes,
Which were black (the white socks he really should lose).

He pulled out some discs he had stored in his backpack.
Santa looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack!
His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
This ain't the same Santa that I used to know!

With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, gave my Mac a quick poke,
And accessed my C drive with only a stroke.

He defragged my hard drive, and added a "Dimm",
Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
He distorted some pictures with Kai's Power Goo!

He updated Office, Excel and Quicken,
Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
My eyes widened a bit, my mouth stood agape,
As he added the latest version of Netscape.

The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased.
Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!

He flew back into my screen and through my uplink,
Back into the net with barely a blink.
But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
"Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"