From: Henry Cate Date: 12 Nov 86 17:32:58 PST (Wednesday) Subject: Life 1.G ******************************************************************************* BEAR MARKET MEANS BARGAIN FOR DINERS By Paul Lewis (reprinted without permission from the New York Times News Service) PARIS - The two hungry diners sat down, turned expectantly to a flickering computer screen on a nearby stand and began studying the latest quotations. The news seemed ominous. Making money would not be easy in today's luncheon market. The scene was La Connivence, a small new bistro-style restaurant at 6 Rue Feydeau, a stone's throw from the Paris Bourse, or stock exchange. As with stocks on the exchange, the laws of supply and demand determine the price diners at La Connivence pay for a meal. (The name, La Connivence, means complicity, with the slightly shady overtones appropriate for a gambling den of sorts.) As patrons place their orders in the austere ground-floor dining room, one of the owners, Jean-Claude Trastour, enters them into a computer which promptly adjusts the menu prices to reflect demand. Popular dishes, like popular stocks, go up in price while less popular ones decline. Timorous diners may choose to pay the quoted price for a dish at the moment they order it. That is called eating on the march comptant, or cash market. If the price rises while these diners are tucking in, they have done very well for themselves. If the price falls, they get indigestion. It is the safe way to eat - safe and dull. More adventurous folks play the futures market, the march a terme, agreeing to pay the price quoted when they call for the check at the end of their meal. Naturally, they hope the price will have fallen by that fateful moment. But hopes may be dashed by a flurry of buying, and the price may easily shoot up. Worse indigestion. The newly seated diners began preparing their gambling strategy by reading the trends. They saw that the prices of several dishes had already fallen by close to 6 francs--the limit for price changes up or down in any one eating-trading session. (A dollar is worth about 7 francs.) That left little room for further decline. There would be no point in ordering any of those dishes, no matter how delectable--unless, of course, the diner was more interested in eating than in successful speculation. The computer screen flashed chute du filet mignon, indicating that the price of that choice steak had already fallen 5 francs, to 50 francs a serving. A veal casserole with herbs had slipped 4 francs, to 48 francs. A rack of lamb chops for two, down 10 francs, was priced to sell for 110 francs a serving. As for the haddock, the computer reported a "sharp fall" of 5 francs a portion, to 57 francs. Other dishes were doing better. The screen showed that a "stampede" of orders for lotte had pushed the price of that pleasant Mediterranean fish up 4 francs to 62 francs a portion, making it an interesting speculation. If diners played the forward market, the price might be substantially lower when the time came to pay; of course, it could still rise another 2 francs before reaching the 6 francs ceiling. Occasionally, a diner's greed is outweighed by the thought of what he would have to eat to turn a profit. An example: "Victorious advance of the stuffed pigs' trotter," the computer flashed, marking it up 5 francs, to 43 francs. Surely it could only fall. But a lunch of pigs' feet? In the end, the diners chose a conservative strategy, ordering the special of the day, saddle of lamb, on the marche a terme. The lamb was trading at 39 francs a portion; up a modest 2 francs for the day thus far. The check arrived for the conservative diners: 228 francs for two, which is pretty good by Paris standards since it included a bottle of Beaujolais, a cheese-filled ravioli from the French Alps for a starter, homemade apple tart, and coffee. But the roast saddle of lamb stood at 38 francs, only a meager 1 franc cheaper than when it was ordered. Down the street, the Bourse was having one of its best days ever. [Inside tip: Sell-SHORT-Ribs, Buy-LONGustine. Bon appetit! Pierre] ******************************************************************************* Subject: The software that worked too well This story is nth hand, thus to be classified as rumor. But it is relevant to RISKS, so I pass it on, if only as a parable. SeaTac is the main Seattle-area airport. Ordinarily aircraft landings are from the north, and this end of the runway is equipped with all the sensing equipment necessary to do ALS (Automatic Landing System) approaches. The early 747 ALS worked beautifully, and the first of these multi-centaton aircraft set down exactly at the spot in the center of the runway that the ALS was heading for. The second 747 set down there. The third 747 landed on this part of the runway. ... As did all the others. After a while, SeaTac personnel noticed that the concrete at this point at the north end of the ALS runway was breaking up under the repeated impact of 747 landings. So the sofware was modified so that 3 miles out on the approach, a random number generator is consulted to choose a landing spot -- a little long, a little short, a little to the left or a little to the right. THE MORAL: Don't assume you understand the universe without actually experimenting. ******************************************************************************* "There are two things you are better off not seeing in the making -- sausages and econometric estimates." . . . a quote from Edward Leamer, economist at UCLA, stolen without permission from last week's Science. The article continues in this vein: " . . . people want answers to impossible questions and are overly impressed by answers that come out of a computer. [Kenneth] Arrow [of Stanford] makes an analogy with the theory of evolution. Asking an economist to accurately forecast next year's energy demand is like asking an evolutionary biologist what species will evolve next." ************************************************************************** DWARF-THROWING DEFENDED (Reuters) Brisbane,Australia - Organizers of a dwarf-throwing contest between Britain and Australia yesterday dismissed a public outcry against the event, saying the little people are "professional projectiles." The British team members are thrower Roy Merrin and dwarf Lenny the Giant. The Australian side has thrower David Barry and dwarf Wee Robbie. No team member has made any public comment on the matches. Matches begin Tuesday and will be played in Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne with the proceeds going to charity. David Naylor, editor of People magazine, which is sponsoring the contest, insisted,"They (dwarfs) don't feel degraded. They are professional projectiles." I think this raises some important questions... 1) What is the current world record for dwarf throwing? 2) Is this going to be an Olympic sport in 1988? A) Winter or Summer Olympics? B) If it is the Winter Olympics, is the dwarf frozen before being thrown? 3) How is this event scored? A) Distance on the fly? B) Does bounce and roll count? C) Does the dwarf have to remain in one piece? 4) In what type of arena is this sport contested? 5) In what year did the Russians invent this sport? ******************************************************************************* A guy wanders into a bar and orders a martini. The bartender provides it, and he drinks it down. When he finishes it, he starts nibbling on the rim of the glass. He keeps nibbling and nibbling until there's nothing left but the stem of the glass. He then throws the stem over his shoulder where it breaks into pieces on the floor. By now, quite a few of the patrons are watching this go on. He orders another martini, and repeats the performance; nibbling the rim of the glass around and around until there's nothing left but the stem, which he throws away over his shoulder. Several patrons are staring at him with their mouths open. He orders a third martini and does it all over again; nibbling down to the stem and throwing the stem over his shoulder. After the fourth time, he pays his bill and leaves. All of the other barflies are staring at him in amazement. The bartender says "That's the weirdest thing I ever saw!". "Yeah," says a customer, "he's throwing away the best part". ********************************************************************** Once upon a time, in the days of royalty, lived the Count of Hegula, and his sidekick, the Duke of Pearl. One night these crafty fellows decided to break into the queen's castle and steal the royal treasures. Unfortunately, as they were making away with the loot, they awakened one of the guards. The Count was caught, but the Duke escaped. Other guards were summoned to search for the Duke, but he could not be found. The next morning, the Count was brought before her majesty the queen. "Tell me who your accomplice was," she said, " and I will let you go free. I just want to get my jewels back." "No way, lady!" said the Count. "I will never tell you, nor anybody else. My pride is stronger than your greed." "Very well, then. Off with your head!" said the queen. "Guards, take this criminal to the executioner." As the guards escorted the man down the hall, one of them spoke: "Hey, Count, tell us who your helper was, and we can all escape together and share the treasure." "Get lost!" replied the Count. "I will never reveal my partner's name!" So the guards took the man into the execution room, and forced him to kneel beside the chopping block. A priest in the room then began to speak. "Dear Lord, please give this man the courage to admit his guilt, and let him tell us the name of his accomplice, so that he, too, may be forgiven." "Take off, preacher!" yelled the Count. "No stupid prayer is going to make me talk!" So the priest quietly exited the room. Then from a dark corner came the hooded executioner. He sharpened his large axe as the criminal remained calm, then he approached the chopping block. "Son," he said, "this is your last chance. Who helped you steal the queen's jewels?" "I have said it before and I will say it again: I WILL NEVER TELL ANYONE!!" the Count screamed. "OFF WITH MY HEAD!!" and he began to laugh. The executioner shook his head in disappointment, then started to raise his axe. The Count grew silent, then began to shake with fear. Just as the sharp blade was falling, he suddenly screamed out, "NO, WAIT!! I'LL TELL! I'LL T..." But he was too late! The axe had fallen, and his head hit the floor. And the moral of the story is: Don't Hatchet Your Counts Before They Chicken! ******************************************************************************* Joke! A guy is driving through Vermont when he sees some old fogey sitting on a rocking chair, rocking back and forth, looking like he hasn't moved since 1957. He asks they guy "Been rocking there all your life?" And the guy replies "Not yet!" Another shaggy dog story: In days of old when knights were bold there was on little runt who had to use a large shaggy dog instead of a horse. Well it seems that as he was out on a quest it started raining and very dark and gloomy. As it happened he came upon a castle and requested entrence to the establishment. He was admitted and soon he and his dog were drying themselves in front of the fire. Soon enought they were dry and comfortable and the day had turned to night and the storm had become worse. The knight prepaired to go and noted that the dog was just as wet as ever and even more shaggy looking than when they had came in. The lord of the castle looked the situation over and thought a while then proclamed: "I'll let you stay the night. I can't send a knight out on a dog like this" ************************************************************************* An Englishman is trying to hitch a lift in the Irish country side. Soon a mini-truck pulls up and the Englishman boards. "You look lost Lad. Where'er you off to?" asks the driver, an old Irishman. "Down this road 'bout 6 kilo- meters" the Englishman says. "Ah! y'er English. I'm a farmer. I'm off to the market to sell me horse and the pig." the farmer says as he points to the back. "These are dangerous parts, Lad, you shouldn't be out here alone, you know. That's why I carry this buffalo-rifle, you know, for safety." Just then, another truck approaches head-on on collision course. The farmer swerves back and forth to maintain control. After a lot of skidding, he hits a street-light pole and they all come flying out of the truck. The farmer gets up to assess the damage. He sees his pig, all cut up and barely breathing. He limps back to the truck, gets his rifle and approaches the pig. "Oh poor little piggy," he says, "All cut up and bleeding. Yer must be in terrible pain. I'll put ya out of yer misery". He points the gun at the pig and pulls the trigger and BOOM. Then he walks over to the horse which is also lying there bleeding. "Oh poor little horsey, all cut up and bleeding. Yer must be in great pain. I'll put ya out of yer misery". He points his gun at the horse and BOOM. Finally he looks the Englishman, who has been watching all this. Being hurt bad, he's struggling to get up. He has a slash across the side of his face, arms and legs cut up and bleeding badly and one eye squinting and blood trickling out of his mouth. The farmer walks over to the Englishman and asks, "Are ya alright?". The Englishman responds with a quivering voice while his hand is shaking with a nervous twitch, "Fine, I've never felt better in my life! Thanks for the ride." ************************************************************************* There was a biology student who was studying equilibrium in sea birds. He proposed that giving measured doses of various hallucinogenic substances and observing their flight patterns would give some insight to the problems of equilibrium in three dimensional space. This tale taking place in a more liberal era, the student got the funding. He filled out mountains of forms, set up a lab with a supply of sea birds, and proceeded on his way. After a year of diligent work, groveling monthly before the review commitee to get his stipend, and living with stoned sea birds, he completed his study. With trembling hands, he delivered his 247 page report, complete with charts and graphs, to the review commitee. This august body peruses his study, asking penetrating questions and reducing our student to jello. Finally, the department head rises. The light reflects off her steel rimmed glasses as she stares down at our student. "There is a lot of good work here," she says. "But we can't accept this report. You have detailed marvelously the effects of all these substances on these sea birds, but you have no control group." Our student turns pale and says, "You don't mean..." "Yes. I'm afraid so. You left no tern unstoned." ************************************************************************** These 3 guys are walking in the jungles of Africa when they are captured by a tribe of 7 foot tall, extremly mean black natives who have never seen a white person before. They turn to the first guy and say "You have been caught walking in the sacred jungle, where no whites are allowed. We are going to tie you to a tree, blow darts at you, throw knives at you, and use you for spear throwing practice." The guy turns white (r), grabs his gun, and shoots himself in the head. The natives are a little pissed. They turn to the second guy and say "UMGOWA. We are going to strip off all your clothes, cover you with honey, and stack you out over an anthill" Well, this guy doesn't like this prospect so he grabs the gun and shoots himself in the head also. The natives turn to the third guy and say "we are going to skin you alive, then use your hide to make a canoe." The guy doesn't like this one bit so he grabs a fork and starts stabbing himself all over yelling "Conoe?! Hears what I think of your lousy canoe!".