In astronomy, there are a few packages for doing photometry. The one that the galaxy people seem to like the most is called Sextractor. (Us stellar people usually use DAOPHOT.)
Emmanuel Bertin wrote the program and he obviously has a sense of humor... the program itself is called "sex" and the file that tells you the changes from version to version is "sexchanges".
Before Christmas, I was trying to run a script written by Prof. Thorstenson. It ran fine on my normal machine (well, actually it kept crashing), but when I ran it on dactyl (to avoid the crashing problem) it would do a few steps and then print something like :
"Land o' Goshen!" cried the large-boned housewife as the sphincter licking midget violated her creamy ear lobes and pounded his serpentine jabber into her weapon-less bearded clam.
and then crash. Prof. Thorstenson has a sense of humor too, so I figured that this might have just been some obscure error message and I spent an hour or so searching his source code for anything that might generate a little bawdy message. I didn't find anything. To make matters more confusing, the message changed every time.
"Let the games begin!" croaked the lesbian defrocked nun as the nose-grooming chicken flicker mouthed her varicose buds and slid his swollen Linda Lovelace choker into her dripping cush.
To cut to the chase, "which sex" (practically a joke in its own right) revealed that I wasn't running sextractor from its directory but that there was another application called sex in /usr/games/bin. Rename that one sex.story and suddenly the script worked exactly the way it should.
"Is it in yet?" laughed the large-hipped femme fatale as the three-legged dentist mouthed her straining mammaries and pushed his rampaging engine into her moist sanctum.
it doesn't work, apparently.
i want to make some witting analogy here, but i'm failing.
It's bring-your-parent-to-school-day and all the kids are taking turns walking to the front of the room with their dads to explain what they do when the teacher notices that Timmy in the back row seems very unhappy.
Teacher: Timmy, is something the matter? You can go next if you want.
Timmy: (sniffling) I can't go, my dad is dead.
Teacher: Well, if you want, you can explain what your dad did before he died.
Timmy: Explain how he turned blue and shat on the carpet?