Surprise Party

Surprise Party

Fall Polidori 2 Nov 2002

 

Mary had many, many friends.

 

One day, Mary’s friend Delia went around talking to everyone who’s life she touched to gather supporters for a surprise birthday party in her honor.

 

Many of Mary’s closest friends lived in a giant house with her. They had all come there under various circumstances and in bad situations, and Mary had helped them all without thinking twice about it.

 

Delia reminded many of them of Mary’s generosity:

 

Remember when she fed you and your children? After your husband died?

 

Remember that time she killed a spider for you?

 

And who taught you English?

 

Remember how she provided for you after you lost your leg in the accident? Put a roof over your head and kept you warm?

 

It’s time we showed her how much we appreciate everything she’s done. Today is her birthday.

 

Tell everyone you know who’s life she has touched. Be here tonight, before she comes home from work. We’re throwing her a surprise birthday party.

 

Act Two: The Party Assembles

The turnout was incredible. You might call Mary’s friends simple, but there were so many in attendance that no one could count high enough to know how many there were.

 

Finally, they heard her car pull up outside. They all gathered in the darkness, waiting for her to walk in through the back door, hoping she would be pleased and recognize their gratitude for everything she had done.

 

Act Three: Surprise!

 

Mary walked into her home the same way she did every night after work. She entered the back door, and flipped on the light.

 

Mary screamed! The walls and floor of her home were filled with excited, chittering insects of all varieties. Hundreds of cockroaches swarmed and chattered about her feet. A thousand flies lept from the walls, and an unbroken line of beetles spiraled about the ceiling.

 

And as Mary lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, fading into unconsciousness from the shock and horror of it all. She would later swear that she could hear tiny voices singing happy birthday to her. The End.

Online Education as a Business Model

1. Online Education as a Business Model
   (by spawn_of_beachgoat, 10/31/06)

   1. The Turing Test

      1. Graduate Comp Sci student has big idea

      2. The perfect turing test

The ‘professor’ program can become unavailable & stop answering questions

The student can’t ask odd questions, for fear of the professor grading them badly.

Answers must adhere to policy, so they can be simple:

example: Student asks a question about the chat session.

The times will also change to help encourage wider participation For people in different time zones all over the world, literally

Also, Chats are optional, but still quite helpful

Dates and times appear on the home page in the right column

Hope to see you at the next one

(could be conditional base on whether student attended last session)

We try to keep sessions at the same time each week But that is not always possible.

example: Student asks if a certain approach to an assignment would be acceptable.

That would be acceptable

(notice inconsistent punction. some sentences have periods, others, not. occasional human mistakes make it more real seeming)

example: Student asks a question with keywords mentioned in chat session or assignment.

Please review the chat session. This has already been explained.

example: Student grows frustrated (begins using exclaimation marks, capitalizes words, accusatory language, perhaps even profainity etc.)

It is obvious you are upset. We should continue this conversation when you have calmed down. Repeated incidents of this kind of behavior will result in disciplinary action per the school policy in your student handbook.

example: Student asks about a topic the instructor does not recognize.

Let’s please keep this on topic. (or)

My office hours are ending. Be sure to attend the next live chat. Goodbye (or)

(make student defensive) Please read the (chat session, chapters, whatever) or do the (homework, discussion board, whatever) before asking that question.

 

A Sordid Polygon

by Spawn of Beachgoat, 4/3/2004

It was a hundred-degree-plus summer afternoon in Fresno when she walked into my office. As usual, the landlord refused to allow the air conditioner to kick in and relieve the weather. Upon entry, she looked hot.

“Are you Mr. Guyra Wells?” she impolitely blurted out in a non-dairy queen blizzard of sweat and inquisition.

“The one and only,” I told her. It was my specific hope that this one could pay the bills I’d generate.

“I’ve got a problem. With my husband, I think,” she hurriedly blubbered next.

“Tell me his name,” I proposed. “Within two weeks I can tell you whether or not you’ve really got a problem.”

“I sure hope you can, Mr. Wells. I’ll pay you whatever it takes.”

“Sold!” I exclaimed. As far as I was concerned, at that hourly rate, her problema es mi problema, right?

She agreed to come back the next day with her checkbook. I agreed to wake up earlier than usual and be there to meet her.

—————————

The next day, several things were apparent. For one thing, she was a nice-looking redhead. Another thing was that she spelled trouble. Without technical accuracy.

“Mr.Wells. I had been hoping that you could help me find out why my happy and content marriage has failed to include me lately.”

“I’m afraid that will require my daily rate plus expenses plus phantom fees plus taxes,” I told her.

“Sounds fair enough,” she said.

As of that moment, I was on the case.

—————————

Over the next two weeks, the task of following her husband through the hot streets of Fresno during the summer was both un-fun and un-productive. After watching his behavior for a few days, I was nearly convinced the guy could end up canonized.

That was, until the Tuesday of the second week of surveillance.

The carnal acts I captured on film that day were certainly wrong. I felt a hole burning in the swatch of film as the photo snapped, and I felt a corresponding singe in my soul for having witnessed those acts. Even if she hadn’t been an oversensitive woman, I would have felt terrible for my client.

—————————

The day after the best surveillance, I felt there was plenty of evidence to go ahead and call her into my office to show the photos.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am; it seems that your suspicions about your husband and the sordid love triangle were correct after all.”

It was just then that I noticed the hand gun she carried. Blam blam ouch.