Quick! Name some flowers a debutant would wear with mauve taffeta.
Four-minute reads
For Tim Cook’s eyes only [TOP SECRET]
From: Sunnyvale labs
To: Tim Cook
Re: Upcoming products
iBelt. Sleek silicone belt with discreet white electronic buckle. User programs belt by answering 400-point questionnaire on ideal love mate. Buckle senses other iBelts within vicinity, relays data wirelessly, and assesses compatibility match in real time. Buckle vibrates if percentage is above threshold level set by user and displays readout in small top-mounted heart-shaped LED. Vibrates more intensely as user approaches prospective love match.
Second generation: Choice of belt colors and smaller buckle. “The iBelt that doesn't make you look fat.”
Third generation: Improved guidance system means users can now locate target 62 percent faster. No more endless wandering about as vibrations grow “hot or cold.”
iShoe. Attractive white shoe with brushed metallic trim ring and modern electronic closure. (No more cumbersome laces or dreary Velcro.) Circuitry in sole senses audible music and delivers coordinated electrical stimuli to foot, triggering beat-appropriate “dancing.” Built-in jack for direct connection to iPod. “Now you can dance like a star even if you're a pasty-faced suburbanite.” More . . .
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Louie the Doc will see you now
Louie the Gat had a pain down there (no lower), so his doctor sent him to get a CAT Scan. It turns out the trouble was an old bullet in his thigh that was shifting toward Paramus. The doctor said it was probably OK, but that they should “keep an eye on it.”
Louis said he was shocked by how much the clinic had tried to clip him for that short ride under the probing beam.
“Ain’t yuz got no health insurance?” asked his associate Philly Z.
“Hell no,” Louie replied. “I got all the health insurance I need strapped right here under my armpit.”
Louie was widely known among the higher echelons for his accuracy with point-blank snuff shots to the back of the noodle.
“Did you pay the ticket?” inquired Fat Sammy.
“I gave ’em a choice,” answered Louie, displaying two gold canines and one large gap when he smiled. “They chose life.”
Louie decided this medical imaging racket had potential. His application went up the ladder, people were consulted, and Louie got the nod. Some muscle was applied to various parties, resulting in blueprints and schematics being coughed up. These got sent to Philly Z’s cousin, who ran a chop shop near Hoboken. More . . .
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President Mitt Stands Firm
“Uh, Mr. President, we just received news that the financial markets are in turmoil.”
“And what has that to do with me? I’m in government these days, not business.”
“Rightly so, sir, but we thought you might wish to be kept informed.”
“Oh, what a bother. What seems to be the trouble?”
“Apparently, quite a few credit derivatives have gone sour.”
“Credit default swaps? I thought they got dealt with.”
“Well, they did-sort of. But the financial institutions found the regulations burdensome and socialist.”
“And rightly so, I’m sure.”
“So some of those wiz kids on Wall Street cooked up a new form of derivative: the credit default plaster.”
“Plaster, huh?”
“Yeah, as in the humble mustard plaster. It removes risk like a swap and is just as profitable. The banks have been peddling them by the trillions.”
“Sounds great so far. That’s what free enterprise is all about.”
“Right, Mr. President. Only it turns out that some of the assets underlying the plasters were not were not as sound as their Triple-A ratings would imply. Banks are toppling like ten pins and all the credit markets are freezing up.”
“Any Cayman Island banks affected?” More . . .
From: Sunnyvale labs
To: Tim Cook
Re: Upcoming products
iBelt. Sleek silicone belt with discreet white electronic buckle. User programs belt by answering 400-point questionnaire on ideal love mate. Buckle senses other iBelts within vicinity, relays data wirelessly, and assesses compatibility match in real time. Buckle vibrates if percentage is above threshold level set by user and displays readout in small top-mounted heart-shaped LED. Vibrates more intensely as user approaches prospective love match.
Second generation: Choice of belt colors and smaller buckle. “The iBelt that doesn't make you look fat.”
Third generation: Improved guidance system means users can now locate target 62 percent faster. No more endless wandering about as vibrations grow “hot or cold.”
iShoe. Attractive white shoe with brushed metallic trim ring and modern electronic closure. (No more cumbersome laces or dreary Velcro.) Circuitry in sole senses audible music and delivers coordinated electrical stimuli to foot, triggering beat-appropriate “dancing.” Built-in jack for direct connection to iPod. “Now you can dance like a star even if you're a pasty-faced suburbanite.” More . . .
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Louie the Doc will see you now
Louie the Gat had a pain down there (no lower), so his doctor sent him to get a CAT Scan. It turns out the trouble was an old bullet in his thigh that was shifting toward Paramus. The doctor said it was probably OK, but that they should “keep an eye on it.”
Louis said he was shocked by how much the clinic had tried to clip him for that short ride under the probing beam.
“Ain’t yuz got no health insurance?” asked his associate Philly Z.
“Hell no,” Louie replied. “I got all the health insurance I need strapped right here under my armpit.”
Louie was widely known among the higher echelons for his accuracy with point-blank snuff shots to the back of the noodle.
“Did you pay the ticket?” inquired Fat Sammy.
“I gave ’em a choice,” answered Louie, displaying two gold canines and one large gap when he smiled. “They chose life.”
Louie decided this medical imaging racket had potential. His application went up the ladder, people were consulted, and Louie got the nod. Some muscle was applied to various parties, resulting in blueprints and schematics being coughed up. These got sent to Philly Z’s cousin, who ran a chop shop near Hoboken. More . . .
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
President Mitt Stands Firm
“Uh, Mr. President, we just received news that the financial markets are in turmoil.”
“And what has that to do with me? I’m in government these days, not business.”
“Rightly so, sir, but we thought you might wish to be kept informed.”
“Oh, what a bother. What seems to be the trouble?”
“Apparently, quite a few credit derivatives have gone sour.”
“Credit default swaps? I thought they got dealt with.”
“Well, they did-sort of. But the financial institutions found the regulations burdensome and socialist.”
“And rightly so, I’m sure.”
“So some of those wiz kids on Wall Street cooked up a new form of derivative: the credit default plaster.”
“Plaster, huh?”
“Yeah, as in the humble mustard plaster. It removes risk like a swap and is just as profitable. The banks have been peddling them by the trillions.”
“Sounds great so far. That’s what free enterprise is all about.”
“Right, Mr. President. Only it turns out that some of the assets underlying the plasters were not were not as sound as their Triple-A ratings would imply. Banks are toppling like ten pins and all the credit markets are freezing up.”
“Any Cayman Island banks affected?” More . . .