Nutworks magazine

Electronic Humor Magazine.
Issue015, (Volume IV, Number 1). January, 1987.

NutWorks is published semi-monthly-ish by

Brent C.J. Britton, < Brent@Maine.BITNET>

"Kinky" is when you use a feather;

"perverted" is when you use the whole chicken.


NewsWorks ...................... Points of Interest
Nuts & Bolts ................... Commentary
The King of Beers .............. Joke
Compaq ......................... Advertisement
How to Know When
You're Growing Older ........... Advice
Nature's Kitchen ............... Announcement
Mr. Smith ...................... Shaggy Dog


Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea, partic-
ularly a certain speedboat off the coast of Florida: DON'T LAND AT KEY

(We apologize for the previous news announcement. We return you now
to our regularly scheduled news program.)

A hardy "Hi folks!" to the latest subscribers to this journal. We
hope you enjoy it! If you do, tell two friends about it, and they'll
tell two friends, and so on, and so on, and we'll just have to have a
massive party to celebrate! OK? Great! BYOx (where "x" is a member of
a finite set of intoxicating and/or obscene elements.)

Just a reminder that back issues of NutWorks are available almost
anywhere. When in doubt, however, you can retrieve back issues from
TCSSERVE@TCSVM.BITNET by sending it the following message:


At any given time, the six most recent back issues of NutWorks can also
be retrieved from CSNEWS@MAINE.BITNET by sending it this message:


If you can't send messages, or are just plain lazy or something, you can
request back issues of NutWorks by sending a MAIL file to the NutWorks
editor and, if he is having a reasonably stress-free day, he will ship
the back issues out to you as fast as his little fingers can carry him.

The NutWorks staff would like to remind readers that the deadline
for submitting your song parodies (for the Special Song Parody Issue) is
February 1, 1987. Here's an small example of a song parody:

Social Quarantine

Sung to the tune of: Yellow Submarine

In the town
where I was born,
Lived a man
who had V.D.
And he gave
it to the girls,
And the girls
gave it to me...
We all live in a social quarantine, quarantine, quarantine.

As always, we are eager to receive *any* original, humorous articles on
any topic. All contributions may be sent to the editor.
The NutWorks Staff

_#_ <---------- Recent photograph of the
NutWorks staff on vacation

in the key of G.

Nuts & Bolts

by Brent C.J. Britton

Vacations from school are nice because they allow people to escape
the day-to-day drudgery of having to fabricate excuses for not going to
class. I always look forward to school vacations because they give me
time to do things which I have been meaning to do all semester, but
didn't, because I was spending too much time Not Going to Class. During
this past vacation, for example, I confirmed my sneaking suspicion that I
do, in fact, own a television set.
I found it right where I recall leaving it last summer: just across
the living room from the sofa and the remote control. The remote control
is a wholly remarkable device which, if used regularly, can cause the
average fit, active human being to turn into a lazy, smelly lump of
immovable jelly. The advantage of having a remote control is that you
can use it to quickly change the station when an advertisement comes on.
Before the remote control was invented, the only way people could avoid
watching advertisements was to get up and go to the bathroom. This was
especially inconvenient before indoor plumbing was developed because then
people had to get up and go to the outhouse. Sometimes I try to see how
many things in my living room I can point my remote control at and still
make the television work. I've found that mirrors do this nicely. My
face doesn't. I hope that pointing the remote control at my face and
pressing the buttons doesn't give me cancer.

I am finally convinced that television news people think that the
American public has Hellman's Real Mayonnaise for brains. During my stay
in front of the television set last week, the one big news item I kept
hearing about, over and over again, was the simply fascinating story of
Ronald Reagan's enlarged prostate gland. (It seems that, whereas former
President Carter would retreat to Camp David when he felt like getting
away from the White House, Reagan prefers to go to the hospital to have
some part of his body removed.) I'm sure it's newsworthy when Ronald
Reagan undergoes some sort of surgery -- I mean, he IS the President of
United States and all -- but I, for one, and damn sick of being made to
view diagrams of the inside of his body. Some of the news programs I saw
even had small teams of urologists standing by to explain what sort of
punishment they give to someone who has an enlarged prostate and what
sort of pointy objects get inserted into his body. Don't believe what
anyone tells you about doctors; they are all sadistic maniacs who like
to hurt sick people by poking them with pointy objects.
The news people also mentioned that, seeing how the President was
in the neighborhood, he was going to visit the Presidential Proctologist
to have his colon checked for something called polyps. (I don't know
just what a polyp is, but it seems that the President doesn't want any on
his colon.) The news people were pleased as punch about this because
they got to display more disgusting diagrams of the interior of the
Presidential Posterior. And the team of medical people were right there
to tell us in great detail what the Presidential Proctologist would be
doing inside the Oval Orifice. To him, I suppose a colon by any other
name smells the same, but talk about having your finger on the pulse of
the nation!!
It seems that while Reagan was being admitted to the hospital to have
all these horrible things done to his person, he allegedly made several
urological jokes. No one on the news actually said what a "urological
joke" is mind you, but I can just hear the President saying "Well, Doc,
when I bend over, how about humming a few bars of 'Hail to the Cheeks'?"

Oh Well, it's about time to start Not Going to Class again. I leave
you with this ancient salutation, in the !Tung dialect:

"Wikky wikky ratyak, sapdew fizwot, HOY salrot, klakkacheez."

Translation: "May you never get polyps on your colon from pointing the
remote control at your face and pressing the buttons."


The King of Beers

The Budweiser marketing executives held their annual planning session
with their advertising agency. The ad agency gave them a new and

Irving Schlock, the ad agency account executive, suggested that
Budweiser offer the Pope $1 Million per year if he will send out an
edict changing the Lord's Prayer line from "Give us this day our daily
bread" to "Give us this day our daily Bud."

The Bud executives thought this was fantastic and shipped off a staff
representative to Rome to make the offer. The representative only got
to see a bishop, who ordered him thrown out amid cries of "Sacrilege!!"

He returned to the President of Budweiser, who told him to up the offer
to $1 million per month.

This time the Budweiser man got in to see a Cardinal, told him about
the proposed change from "Give us this day our daily bread" to "Give us
this day our daily Bud." The Cardinal, enraged, also had him thrown out,
saying, "The Lord's Prayer is NOT for sale, commercialistic swine!"

Back to the Budweiser President he went.

This time the president said that he had certain connections and would
make some calls in advance, guaranteeing the rep would see the Pope
himself, not just some flunkies. Also, said the president, "Offer the
Pope $1 million a week. "This is so big we can't miss it. It'll blow
Miller out of the water!"

Back in the Vatican, the Budweiser Rep enters a room filled with the
church hierarchy, begins to give his presentation -- cries of "out"
begin, when the Pope comes in. He asks that the Rep be heard in a
respectful manner, but first wants to leave for a moment. The Pope goes
down the hallway to his business manager's office. Entering, he says
"Guido, get out the Lord's Prayer file."

"Sure, your Holiness, what do you need to know?"

"How long before our deal expires with Pepperidge Farm?"

(Taken from an actual Compaq ad in a British magazine.)

Compaq Wishes To Apologize For This Advertisement.

In particular, we wish to apologize for the headline. We suggest you
skip it and go straight to the rest of the ad, after which you should
simply FILL IN AND POST THE COUPON. If you haven't got time to read
COUPON you may pass a COMPAQ dealer in which case simply GO IN AND BUY
A COMPAQ. This will save you the price of a stamp.

name one COMPAQ and the other IBM. Feed COMPAQ on lean steak and IBM on
old socks stuffed with rabbit droppings. After a month, enter both in
the 3.30 at Hackney and you will notice that Compaq runs at least 30%
faster than IBM. Of course, this test is totally unfair and one-sided,
but gives the same result as racing the computers in your office.

or legs is shown at left.) This is what happens to computer operators
who lose all the data on an important disk. Protect yourself with a
built-in tape back-up safety system. Too bad if you own an IBM or some
other make, only COMPAQ computers have them.

Sorry. Wrong. Terribly sorry. Sorry to disappoint those of you who
were hoping for something titillating, but this whole section is in fact
the result of a silly spelling mistake. Instead of softwear, please read
software. Then reach for any IBM catalogue, in which you will find
listed thousands of programs you can run on COMPAQ computers. So sorry.

coincidence, this is the same percentage of waiters in Indian restaurants
who hail from the small Bangladeshi town of Sylhet. Nearly 100%. For
further details and first-class lamb dhansak, ring 01-836 9787.

BYTES OF RAM. The compaq deskpro 286 offers 8.2 megabytes of RAM. IBM's
PC AT can only manage a 3 megabyte nibble. Cheez, even our carry-away
Portable does 2.6 megabytes.

THE COMPAQ DUAL_MODE MONITOR. At last, a monitor lizard that can display
both high resolution text and high resolution graphics on one screen.
IBM's (and all their spawn) need separate iguanas for text and graphics.
More details from our sales reptiles. Contact them on 01-940 8860.

SIMPLE ANT MATHS: LESSON 1. Let one ant equal one byte of information.
COMPAQ's built-in mass storage can hold 70,000,000 of the little
blighters, (30,000,000 more than IBM can). Now calculate how many ants
are needed to fill the great pyramid of Giza.


TO: COMPAQ Computer Ltd., Freepost, Richmond, Surrey, TW91BR.
I understand that COMPAQ computers run IBM software 30% faster, are
more powerful with more storage, a unique tape backup system and dual
mode monitor, but frankly I can't believe COMPAQ's are this good,
otherwise why isn't everyone using them except come to think of it
COMPAQ is already No. 2 in the States but then the Yanks are a funny
bunch I mean they eat raw steak for breakfast and they've all got
absurd names like Chuck and Waldo of course everyone's always
knocking America but where would we be without the Harvey Wallbanger
so rush me more details of your marvelous computers.

Name ________
Inside Leg___ Favourite Singer___

FREE when you give us 3,694.99 pounds.

( ) tick here for FREE death watch beetle.

How to Know When You're Growing Older

- Everything hurts and what doesn't hurt, doesn't work.
- The gleam in your eyes is from the sun hitting your bifocals.
- You feel like the night before, and you haven't been anywhere.
- Your little black book only contains names ending in M.D.
- You get winded playing chess.
- Your children begin to look middle-aged.
- You begin to outlive enthusiasm.
- Your mind makes contracts your body can't meet.
- A dripping faucet causes an uncontrollable bladder urge.
- You know all the answers but nobody asks you the questions.
- You look forward to a dull evening.
- You walk with your head held high trying to get used to your
- Your favourite part of the newspaper is "25 Years Ago Today".
- You turn out the light for economic reasons rather than for romantic.
- You sit in a rocking chair and can't get it going.
- Your knees buckle and your belt won't.
- You regret all those mistakes resisting temptation.
- After painting the town red, you have to take a long rest before
applying a second coat.
- Dialing long distance wears you out.
- You're no longer startled to be addressed as "ol' timer".
- The best part of the day is over when the alarm clock goes off.
- You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there.
- The little gray haired lady you help across the street is your wife.
- You burn the midnight oil after 9 P.M.
- Your back goes out more than you do.
- You get too much room in the house and not enough in the medicine
- You get your exercise acting as a pall bearer for your friends who

Frans J. Ward

Nature's Kitchen Presents:

From the people who brought you blood, sweat and earwax, AND the
people who have produced such delectable delights as "Cream of Spinach"

we proudly present...

Campbell's Primordial Soup!

That's right, Campbell's Soup inc. has merged with Mother Nature ltd.
to bring you this primal mixture of complex organic compounds (including
stringey strands of RNA), which is sure to please even the most highly
evolved palettes. This tasty dish can be eaten alone, or can easily act
as the basic building block for more complex culinary creations, such as

Protazoan Pottage,
Fishy Bisque,
Baked Amoeba,
Self-replicating Succotash.

Campbell's Primordial Soup, (the first in our nutritious new line
of Mankindhandlers) is ALL NATURAL with no additives or preservatives,
and each can contains a full day's supply of vitamins and amino acids.
An evolutionary soup for an evolving species.

Also try Campbell's CHUNKY Primordial Soup! So chunky, you'll be
tempted to use your hands, but use a fork, before it gets up and walks

Ken Vincent & bcjb

Yellow sign spotted in the rear window of a hearse:

/ \
/ Dead \
. guy on .
\ board /
\ /

Shaggy Dog Story

One Thursday evening Mr. Smith was sitting in his favourite armchair,
drinking a beer, and watching football, when he had this sudden urge
to pass wind. This he duly did...


'Weird' thought Mr. Smith, but thought nothing of it, until 5 minutes
later, when...


At this he got worried. He rushed to the local hospital, and managed
to get an appointment with an intestinal specialist.

"What seems to be the problem Mr. Smith?" asked the doctor.

"Well, whenever I pass wind, it seems to make a noise like a motorbike"
replied Mr Smith.

"Could you possibly show me?' asked the doctor. Mr Smith duly obliged


"Bend over please Mr Smith, I'd like to examine you... (muffled) ah
yes, I see your problem," said the doctor "you have an abcess on your
backside. That would explain the strange noise."

Mr. Smith was lost for words. "How," he asked "could an abcess on my
ass make a noise like that!?"

"Simple," replied the doctor...
"abcess makes the fart go HONDA!"

Submitted by Matt Brunton (MATT @ UKACRL)

Issue015, (Volume IV, Number 1). January, 1987