A list of puns related to "Signal timing"
He calls his son and says he wanted to tell him something for a long time.
Son Ant : What is it dad?
Father Ant : I cannot say that in this god forbidden country we have to move immediately to France or Italy before i am dead.
Confused,the Son Ant made arrangements to move to France.They boarded a spy ship which took them to south Korea.From there they boarded a flight to France.With great difficulty they finally reached France.The father ant's health became worse.The son ant was thinking what was so important that they had to move to another country, So when they settled in their new home he finally asked..
Son Ant : Dad, We are in France now you can tell whatever you were going to tell me. The Father could not speak up so he signaled his son to come closer.The son did.
Father Ant: Son, We are now Europeants.
Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.
The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...
ahem...
Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.
Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.
Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.
The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.
That's the theory, at least.
Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.
Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out
... keep reading on reddit ➡We were Skyping, and I was trying to figure out the delay between the audio and the video. I said "ping", as I often do when this issue occurs, and she replies "ping" back to signal when she heard me. Sometimes, when she doesn't do it the first time, it gets confusing and I don't know which one she is responding to.
So I switched my word to "taco" in the hopes that it'd break the cycle. No go. She goofed it again.
When I said "I give up", she said "Wait! Let's taco 'bout this."
I love that girl.
An ancient Babylonian general was once involved in a plot to overthrow the king. His plot included a number of followers in the upper ranks of the army. However, his plot was uncovered, and the king threw him in jail. The king sentenced him to death without a trial.
However, from the jail he was able to secretly contact his followers to arrange to escape, meet his followers, and attack the king's palace at night. So the night before his scheduled execution, the general managed to escape from prison. He fled to a ziggurat several kilometers away, where his followers would meet him. However, the ziggurat was one of several in the area, and he wasn't sure if his cohorts would find the right ziggurat. By this time it was twilight, so he lit a small fire and sent smoke signals to indicate in which structure he was hiding.
However, the king's loyal soldiers saw the smoke coming from the ziggurat, and came to arrest him before he could meet his followers. He was executed later that day.
The moral of the story? WARNING: The searching general has determined that smoking ziggurats can be extremely hazardous to your stealth.
So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.
I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"
Then I start crying.
Years ago I used to use a LexisNexis database of companies that would give corporate information like name, address, and general business description. While most of them were pretty bland, there were a bunch of them with some really cheesy puns, and over a few years I built quite a collection.
Today I share with you "NEXIS IS RIDICULOUS.txt":
Every time my 81-year-old dad loses his satellite radio signal in his car, he waves his fist in the air and shouts "PUTIN STRIKES!"
I showed him the picture of Rootin Tootin Putin and now he wants it on a t-shirt with that assertion as a caption.
This was one of her favorite jokes she loved to tell: One day, a man was walking home after a long day at work. As he waited for a crosswalk signal, he glanced back and noticed a coffin standing down the block. "Odd," he thought, but he ignored it and continued home. He turned the corner and managed to catch a glimpse of the coffin again. This time is was closer to him... like it was following him. He picked up his pace and ran into his apartment complex. The coffin was right behind him. In a fright, he dashed up the stairs to his place, locked the door and barricaded himself in the bathroom. Thud, thud, thud! The coffin was banging on the bathroom door. The man frantically looked for something to defend himself. Just as the coffin busted through the door, the man grabbed some cough syrup from the medicine cabinet, threw it at the coffin ... and the coffin stopped.
Please note that this site uses cookies to personalise content and adverts, to provide social media features, and to analyse web traffic. Click here for more information.