For many years I have been sending out a daily humor ezine to a plethora of subscribers. In the course of doing so, I have subscribed to various other humor ezines in order to stay current with the happenings of the world of electronic humor. The publisher of one particular humor ezine ends his list with a peculiar disclaimer in every one of his publications. It states, "As usual I am not responsible for the content in this newsletter."

I find the statement to be rather odd. In essence he's saying that if he prints something blatantly vile or offensive that his readers should not hold him accountable for the content. Personally, I think that he may be trying to express the fact that he doesn't write the jokes, he just prints them but his statement certainly doesn't convey that sentiment. If this is what he means, perhaps he should say, "I don't write the jokes, I just print them." If that isn't what he means, perhaps he should say, "I'm not responsible."

To make such a statement in a newsletter that you publish is like giving a friend a cake that you baked using rotten eggs. Your friend might say something like, "You know that cake you gave me?"

You'd reply, "Yes."

"Well, I don't mean to insult you but I couldn't eat it. It had a awfully foul odor that smelled pretty much like rotten eggs."

"That's because I made it with rotten eggs."

"You baked a cake with eggs that you knew were rotten and then gave it to me?"

"Yes."

"I am offended that you would do such a thing."

"Hey, don't be offended by me. I didn't rot the eggs. I just used them to make the cake."

I once received an ezine called Intelligent Humor. The list moderator advertised that the list was for people who are sick of stupid jokes and want humor they have to think about. This sounded good to me when I signed up but, as it turned out, most of the jokes were second hand humor that had already been circulating the Internet for quite some time. It was, however, worth my time to read as it occasionally had something fresh that would generate a chortle. Intelligent Humor was an unmoderated list. This means that any subscriber could post to the list, the result being the before mentioned barrage of mostly old jokes.

The list went through a period where there was only the rare occasional posting. That is until the day I started getting multiple mailings of the newsletter posted by one particular subscriber. Every single joke that he sent was extremely vulgar and offensive. Replies started flying in complaint to this mass emailing of inappropriate humor. I was about to unsubscribe from the newsletter when I noticed several emails with the single word "unsubscribe" in the subject and/or body of the message. Next I started being flooded not only with these emails but also with messages from subscribers demanding that the list owner unsubscribe them immediately.

I was amazed. Subscribers signed up for Intelligent Humor because they were interested in intellectual humor yet they weren't smart enough to click the unsubscribe link that was included at the bottom of each and every posting to the list, including their own requests to unsubscribe. I sent a short tutorial to the list explaining how to use a mouse to put a cursor over a link and click. I made sure to note that I wasn't responsible for the content of my posting and then, carefully following my own instructions, unsubscribed from the list. My hope is that at least a few subscribers were able to figure out how to unsubscribe without losing their heads. If not, I think Marie Antoinette said it best when she was rumored to have said, "Let them eat cake."

I still subscribe to many humor ezines so that I can follow the latest trends in humor. The latest trend in Internet humor seems to be the same jokes from five years ago. Five years ago the trend was the same humor as ten years ago. Just in case things change, I'll keep subscribing and keep taking the humor game seriously. After all, humor is nothing to laugh about.

I was talking in the hallway with a couple of coworkers when a member of the maintenance team walked by. "Thanks for replacing those light bulbs for me," I said. "I can actually see what I'm doing now."

"No problem. I'm glad to do it. If you have any more lights out, just let us know and we'll take care of them." With that, the maintenance guy disappeared down the hall.

One of my coworkers turned to me and said, "How is it that you can get the maintenance guys to do work for you but I can't get them to do anything for me?"

"Well, when I need them to do something, instead of calling them, I go down to the maintenance department and shoot the breeze with the guys for a little while before I tell them what I need. I just kind of tell them about what I need in a way that makes it sound like it's no big deal. Then I continue talking for a few more minutes, making sure that the last thing I say before I leave is, 'You guys just handle my problem whenever you get time,' and they usually take care of it within the hour."

"So what you're saying is..."

"Yes, you just need to become buddies with them."

"I was going to say that you need to kiss their butts."

"Exactly!"

Running a laboratory at a major institution of higher learning, I am unable to single handedly perform all of the operations of the lab without assistance. For this reason, every semester I hire assistants from the student body. At the beginning of the semester, an email is sent to the general student population for the recruitment of part time employees in the laboratories. This usually results in an onslaught of applications.

I will usually hire a student based on their being available during the times I need them to work. I have to cover a forty-hour workweek, so this means that I have to sort through all of the applications and fit the students schedules together like a jigsaw puzzle to insure that I have all my hours covered. During the hiring process, I run across a few very interesting characters.

I once hired a student who evidently thought my office wasn't "homey" enough. "Hey man, I have a couch at my apartment I could bring in for your office."

"You're kidding right?"

"No, seriously, I can bring it in."

"No, seriously. Don't."

A student came to me and said that he only wanted to work on Fridays. I told him that I was looking for someone to work ten to fifteen hours at various times throughout the week and he replied that he could probably work most afternoons. I handed him an application and asked him to fill it out. "On the back of the application," I told him, "be sure to write down the hours that you will be available to work." He returned the application the following day. According to his schedule, he was willing to work two hours each morning but wanted to be off on Fridays.

Another student told me, "I'm not a morning person so I don't know if I can make it in on time all the time."

"I'm not sure I can hire you at this time." I can't wait until he graduates and lays that line on a prospective employer.

One student was interested in working for me because my lab was directly related to her graduate research. "This job will enhance my research. As a matter of fact, I'm planning on using some of the lab equipment to do my research."

"Then this job sounds like it would be right up your alley," I replied.

"I can't wait to tell my father about this."

"I'm sure he will be proud."

"I'd like to bring him in to show him the machines so he can go ahead and make plans for modifying them."

"Excuse me?"

"He will have to modify the machines for my research."

"Is your father a student here?"

"No."

Does your adviser know you are planning to have your father modify my machines for your research?"

"No."

I picked up the phone and told her, "He will in a minute."

Having approved a particular applicant, I told him to report to the lab the following morning at eight o'clock. "I'll be there," he said.

Eight o'clock the next morning, no student. At nine o'clock one of my long time student employees showed up for work. "Have you seen the new guy?" I asked.

"Yes, I just saw him a little while ago. He said to tell you he would be late because he had to buy a planner to keep up with all of his appointments."

"You're kidding me."

"That's what he told me."

"The following day the student showed up with a huge day planner and explained that he took the previous day off to buy it."

"It took you all day to buy a planner?"

"Well, I had to write my work schedule in it."

"What work schedule. The only time I had you scheduled to work was yesterday." I'm guessing that the student never did finish writing down his work schedule as he never returned to the lab after that day.

By far, the most unusual admission from a student was that, if hired, she would have trouble making it in at eight o'clock because, as she put it, "I'm lazy." I'll give her an "A" for honesty but I just didn't think she met the qualifications for the job.

One must understand that these examples are the exceptions to the rule and that they are only a small percentage of the students that I have dealt with. The majority of the students I have been involved with are hard working intelligent young adults with very bright futures, who will probably be working for the people I've just written about.

Some people say miracles don't happen any more. I can tell you for a fact that they happen every single day. I give you the following as an example:

I bought my wife a bunch of carnations and my three-year-old son was absolutely fascinated by them. My wife asked him if he would like to have one of the flowers and my son replied with a resounding, "Yes!" She gave him a carnation and the child was beside himself with joy.

Three-year-old boys are not known for being gentle with delicate things of nature. Within minutes my son had detached the stem from the flower. Having realized that it was not possible for him to reattach the flower to the stem, he became rather distraught and tears welled up in his eyes. "Fix it Daddy! Fix it!" he exclaimed with outstretched arms holding the carnation parts.

I took the flower and told him that I would see what I could do. Using two fingers to hold the flower to the stem, I wrapped the severed area with Scotch tape. It wasn't a pretty sight but I wasn't going for aesthetics. The tape was kind of globbed in the center and really looked rather unsightly. I handed the flower to my son, figuring that he would take a short look before rejecting it. However, as soon as he saw the repaired carnation, his face lit up with joy once again. "Daddy fixed it! How did you do it Daddy?" Before I could attempt to explain the procedure, he took the flower and carefully placed it on his little table. He sat in silence for a moment admiring the carnation before I overheard him giggling with glee, "Daddy fixed it. Daddy fixed it."

To the eyes of anyone who may have seen my repair job of the carnation's stem, it would have appeared that I was rather hasty in accomplishing the task. Most people would probably think that my repair looked rather hideous. Certainly nobody would see anything special about it. But through the eyes of my three-year-old son, it was nothing short of a miracle.