These are some funnies I’ve found on the internet which I thought I’d share! Newest entries are posted on the top!
- Dec 8, ‘05: The Thermodynamics of Hell
- Nov 30, ‘05: Hugh Gallagher’s ‘College Essay’
A lot of sites say this was an actual application to NYU, but it was actually written for a writing competition. It’s great! - Nov 29, ‘05: Husband Mart
The Thermodynamics of Hell - Dec 8, ‘05
A retiring physical chemistry professor was setting his last exam, for a graduate course in statistical thermodynamics. Being a bit bored with it all, and with a well kept and wry sense of humour, he set a single question on the sheet:
Is Hell endothermic or exothermic? Support you answer with a proof.
He had little idea what to expect, or how to grade the results, but decided to reward any student who was able to come up with a reasonable and consistent reply to his query. One A was awarded.
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law or some variant. The top student however wrote the following answer:
First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass. If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass. So, at what rate are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving? I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for souls entering hell, lets look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to hell. Since, there are more than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to hell.
With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell. Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant. So, if hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase until all hell breaks loose (i.e.,Hell is exothermic). Of course, if hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, than the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over (i.e.,Hell is endothermic).
So which is it? If we accept the postulate given by Ms.Therese Banyan during my freshman year, “That it will be a cold night in hell before I go out with you,” and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having a relationship with her, the second case cannot be true. Therefore, hell is exothermic.
Hugh Gallagher’s ‘College Essay’ - Nov 30, ‘05
3A. ESSAY: IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION:
ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I’m bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don’t perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
But I have not yet gone to college.
Husband Mart - Nov 29, ‘05
A store that sells husbands has recently opened. The store is a place where woman can go to choose a husband from among many men. The store is composed of six floors, and the men increase in positive attributes as the shopper ascends the flights.
There is however, a catch. As you open the dooor to any floor you may choose a man from that floor, but if you go up a floor, you cannot go back down except to exit the building.
A woman goes to the shopping center to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads: “Floor 1-These men have jobs.” The woman reads the sign and says to herself, “Well, that’s better than my last boyfriend, but I wonder what’s farther up?” So up she goes.
The second floor sign reads: “These men have jobs and love kids.” The woman remarks to herself, “that’s great, but I wonder what’s farther up?” So up she goes.
The third floor sign reads, “These men have jobs, love kids, and are extremely good looking.” “Hmmm, better,” she says, “But I wonder what’s upstairs?”
The fourth floor sign reads, “These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, and help with the housework.” “Wow,” exclaims the woman, “very tempting…, but there must be better picks farther up!”
The fifth floor sign reads, “These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, help with the housework, and have a strong romantic streak.” “Oh, mercy me! But just think…what must be awaiting me farther on?” So up to the sixth floor she goes.
The sixth floor sign reads, “You are visitor 3,456,789,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists soley as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at Husband Mart and have a nice day.
