by Anonymous Coward on Fri February 18, 19:49 (#11718922)

Ripper: Mandrake,
Mandrake: Yes, Jack?
        Ripper: Have you ever seen a Hacker use a mouse ?
Mandrake: Well, no I... I can't say I have, Jack.
        Ripper: Text. That's what they use, isn't it? Never GUIs?
Mandrake: Well I... I believe that's what they use, Jack. Yes.
        Ripper: On no account will a hacker ever use a GUI, and not without
                                        good reason.
Mandrake: Oh, ah, yes. I don't quite.. see what you're getting at, Jack.
        Ripper: Text. That's what I'm getting at. Text. Mandrake, text is
                                        the source of all life. Seven tenths of the internet is text.
                                        Why, you realize that.. seventy percent of you is text.
Mandrake: Uhhh God...
        Ripper: And as human beings, you and I need fresh, pure ASCII text to
                                        replenish our precious configurations.
Mandrake: Yes. [chuckles nervously]
        Ripper: You beginning to understand?
Mandrake: Yes. [chuckles. begins laughing/crying quietly]
        Ripper: Mandrake. Mandrake, have you never wondered why I use only
                                        C or shell, and only pure ASCII text?
Mandrake: Well it did occur to me, Jack, yes.
        Ripper: Have you ever heard of a thing called orthogonalization?
                                        Orthogonalization of configuration?
Mandrake: Ah, yes, I have heard of that, Jack. Yes.
        Ripper: Well do you now what it is?
Mandrake: No. No, I don't know what it is. No.
        Ripper: Do you realize that Directory Services is the most monstrously
                                        conceived and dangerous pointy headed plot we have ever had to face?
Mandrake: [laughs] Jack, don't you think we'd be better off in some other
                                        part of the board, away from all these flames?
        Ripper: Ah, naah. We're ok here. Mandrake, do you realize that in addition
                                        to orthogonalized configuration, why, there are studies underway to
                                        to orthogonalize processors, instructions sets, access control,
                                        networks, printing, fonts, graphics, pr0n?
                                        Pr0n! Mandrake. Joe Sixpack's pr0n?
Mandrake: Good Lord.
        Ripper: You know when orthoganilzation first began?
Mandrake: No. No, I don't, Jack. No.
        Ripper: Nineteen hundred and Eighty Four. Nineteen Eightfour, Mandrake.
                                        How does that coincide with your monopolist conspiracy, huh?
                                        It's incredibly obvious, isn't it? A foreign substance is
                                        introduced into our precious processors without the knowledge
                                        of the individual, and certainly without any choice. That's the
                                        way your hard core monopolist works.
Mandrake: Jack... Jack, listen, tell me, ah... when did you first become,
                                        well, develop this theory.
        Ripper: Well, I ah, I I first became aware of it, Mandrake,
                                        doing the business.
Mandrake: [sighs fearfully]
        Ripper: Yes a profound sense of fatigue, a feeling of emptiness followed.
                                        Luckily I was able to interpret these feelings correctly:
                                        loss of essence.
Mandrake: Yes...
        Ripper: I can assure you it has not recurred, Mandrake.
                                        Users... users sense my power, and they seek the hacker essence.
                                        I do not avoid users, Mandrake, but I do deny them my priviledges.
Mandrake: Heh heh... yes.

[someone posts a 'new' story, moderation points have mostly been given out.
rate of posting drops]

        Ripper: Boys must have surrendered.
Mandrake: It's the way it is. Heh heh. Now Jack, listen.
                                        While there's still time, I beg you, let's do directory services.
        Ripper: [struts over to an available chair, using machinegun as a
                                        walking stick, kicking debris en route. sits.]
                                        Those boys were like my children, Mandrake. Now they let me down.
Mandrake: No no, Jack. Not a bit of it. No, I'm sure they all gave you
                                        their very best. And I'm equally sure they all died thinking of
                                        you, every man jack of them, heh, Jack. Supposing a bit of config
                                        has gone off, eh? And certainly one can never be too sure about
                                        those sort of things. Would you look at me now. Do I look all
                                        rancid and clotted? You look at me, Jack, eh? Look, eh? And I
                                        use a lot of windows, you know. I'm what you might call a windows
                                        man, Jack. That's what I am. And I can swear to you, my boy,
                                        swear to you, that there's nothing insecure about my networks.
                                        Not a thing, Jackie.
        Ripper: Mandrake, were you ever a access programmer?
Mandrake: Well, Jack, the time's running...very... huh?
        Ripper: Were you ever an access proggie?
Mandrake: Ah yes I was. Matter of fact, Jack, I was.
        Ripper: Did you get it?
Mandrake: Ah... yes, they did. I was tortured by the Cargo Cult, Jack,
                                        if you must know. Not a pretty story.
        Ripper: Well what happened?
Mandrake: Oh... well... I don't know, Jack. Difficult to think of under
                                        these conditions. But, well, what happened was they got me on
                                        the old accounting treadmill, I was laying train mines for
                                        the bloody windows-using puf puffs.
        Ripper: No, I mean when they hired you, did you code?
        Ripper: No, I mean when they hired you, did you code?
Mandrake: Ah, oh no, I ah... I don't think they wanted me to code, really.
                                        I don't think they wanted me to do anything. It was just their
                                        way of having... a bit of fun, the swines. Strange thing is they
                                        make such bloody good press releases and adverts ?
        Ripper: You know those other posters are gonna give me a pretty good
                                        going over in a few minutes. For the code.
Mandrake: Yes. [does a double take] Yes, well you may have... you may have
                                        quite a point there, Jack.
        Ripper: I don't know how well I could stand up under flamage.
Mandrake: Well of course the answer to that is, boy, no one ever does.
                                        And my advice to you, Jack, is to show me the code now.
                                        And if those devils come back and try any rough stuff,
                                        we'll fight them together, boy, like we did just now,
                                        on the floor, eh?
                                        You with ed, and me with the mouse, feeding you, Jack!
                                        Feed me, you said, and I was feeding you, Jack.
                                        [pats Ripper on the shoulder]
        Ripper: No, Mandrake. I happen to believe in a life after this one,
                                        and I know I'll have to answer for what I've done.
                                        And I think I can.

Mandrake: Yes, well of course you can, Jack, of course you can. You can!
                                        I'm a religious man, myself, you know, Jack. I believe in all that
                                        sort of thing, and... I'm hoping, you know, Jack,

[rises to follow Ripper, who is walking despondently about the room,
dragging the bulk eraser which he lets fall.]

                                        You dropped your gun, Jack, yes...

[picks up the bulk eraser and carries it]

                                        you know what I'm

[Ripper begins removing his disk here]

                                        no, Jack. Let me take that for you. I'll take that for you, Jack.

[takes Ripper's disk and balances it on the eraser]

                                        And, ah, you know what I'm hoping, Jack?
                                        I'm hoping you're going to show me the code, boy.
                                        That's what I'm hoping. And, ah...

[Ripper heads towards the bookshelf]

                                        oh, you're going have a brush up, are you? What a good idea.
                                        Always did wonders for a man, that, Jack. A little brush up.
                                        A certifcate on the wall, and... makes you feel marvelous.
                                        That's what we need, Jack!
                                        Certificate on the wall and the Administrator password.
                                        Now, ...
                                        now supposing I play a little guessing game with you, Jack, boy.

[Ripper puts his hand on the socket]

                                I'll try and guess...
                                I'll try and guess what the Administrator password is,

[bzzzzzzt!]

(with thanks to Kubrik and LoPresti)

bash on rxvt (at least)

export normal="^[[0m"
export fg_whitebold="^[[1;37m"
export fg_darkgray="^[[1;30m"
export fg_greenbold="^[[1;32m"
export fg_redbold="^[[1;31m"

export PROMPT_COMMAND='set_prompt_colors'

export PS1='\[${fg_darkgray}\]: `stoppedjobs`\[${normal}\]\[${prompt_beg}\]${USERNAME}@${HOSTNAME:0:8}\[${prompt_end}\]\[${fg_green}\]\$\[${fg_darkgray}\];\[${normal}\] '
  '

stoppedjobs() {
    jobs -s | wc -l | sed -e "s/ //g"
}

set_prompt_colors() {
    if (( errornum = $? )); then
        prompt_beg=${fg_redbold}
        prompt_end=${normal}
    else
        if test "$HOSTNAME" = 'sverige' || test "$HOSTNAME" = 'sdf'; then
            prompt_beg=${fg_whitebold}
        else
            prompt_beg=${fg_greenbold}
        fi
        prompt_end=${normal}
    fi
}

How do I avoid wrapping?

from tooth post 10/27/04

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."

The American then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"

The Mexican said, "With this I have more than enough to support my family's needs."

The American then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you will run your ever-expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"

To which the American replied, "15 to 20 years."

"But what then?" asked the Mexican. The American laughed and said that's the best part.

"When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions." "Millions?...Then what?" The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."