Pillsbury Doughboy Obit

[Nelson Bradford]

Please join me in remembering a great icon. Veteran Pillsbury spokesperson, The Pillsbury Doughboy, died yesterday of a severe yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes to the belly. He was 71. Doughboy was buried in a slightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out, including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, Captain Crunch and many others.

The graveside was piled high with flours as long-time friend, Aunt Jemima, delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man who "never knew how much he was kneaded."

Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with many turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, even as a crusty old man, he was still considered a roll model for millions.

Toward the end it was thought he'd raise once again, but he was no tart.

Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough. They have two children and one in the oven. The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.
~~~~~

I kneed - oops - need MORE of these. If you have a source for funny obits, such as this, lemme know, please.

thanx
-neb

[Joel Merrill]

Bill Gates died and, much to everyone's surprise, went to Heaven. When he got there, he had to wait in the reception area.
Heaven's reception area was the size of Massachusetts. There were literally millions of people milling about, living in tents with nothing to do all day. Food and water were being distributed from the backs of trucks, while staffers with clipboards slowly worked their way through the crowd.
Bill lived in a tent for three weeks until one of the staffers finally approached him. The staffer was a young man in his late teens, face scarred with acne. He was wearing a blue T-shirt with the words TEAM PETER emblazoned on it in large yellow letters.
"Hello," said the staffer in a bored voice that could have been the voice of any clerk in any overgrown bureaucracy. "My name is Gabriel, and I'll be your induction coordinator."
Bill started to ask a question, but Gabriel interrupted him. "No, I'm not the Archangel Gabriel. I'm just a guy from Philadelphia named Gabriel. Now give me your name, last name first."
"Gates, Bill."
Gabriel started searching though the sheaf of papers on his clipboard, looking for Bill's Record of Earthly Works.
"What's going on here?" asked Bill. "Why are all these people here? Where's Saint Peter? Where are the Pearly Gates?"
Gabriel ignored the questions until he located Bill's records. Then Gabriel looked up in surprise.
"It says here that you were the president of a large software company. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Heaven is decades behind in building its data processing infrastructure," explained Gabriel. "As you've seen, we're still doing everything on paper. It takes us a week just to process new entries."
"I had to wait three weeks," said Bill.
Abraham stared at Bill angrily, and Bill realized that he'd made a mistake. Even in Heaven, it's best not to contradict a bureaucrat.
"Well then, do the math. When Saint Peter started, it was an easy gig. Only a hundred or so people died every day, and Peter could handle it all by himself, no problem. But now there are six billion people on earth. With that large a population, ten thousand people die every hour. Over a quarter-million people a day. Do you think Peter can meet them all personally?"
"I guess not."
"You guess right. Peter had to franchise the operation. Now he's the CEO of Team Peter Enterprises, Inc. He just sits in the corporate headquarters and sets policy. Franchisees like me handle the actual induction."
Gabriel looked though his paperwork some more and continued. "Your paperwork seems to be in order. And with a background like yours, you'll be getting a plum job assignment."
"Job assignment?"
"Of course. Did you expect to spend the rest of eternity sitting around and drinking ambrosia? Heaven is a big operation. You have to pull your weight."
Gabriel took out a triplicate form, had Bill sign at the bottom, and then tore out the middle copy and handed it to Bill.
"Take this down to induction center #23 and meet up with your occupational orientator. His name is Abraham."
Bill started to ask a question, but Gabriel interrupted him. "No, he's not that Abraham."
Bill walked down a muddy trail for ten miles until he came to induction center #23. He met with Abraham after a mere six-hour wait.
"Well," Bill offered, "maybe that Bosnia thing has you guys backed up."
Abraham's look of anger faded to mere annoyance. "Your job will be to supervise Heaven's new data processing center. We're building the largest computing facility ever -- a half million computers connected by a multisegment fiber optic network, all running into a backend server network with a thousand CPUs on a gigabit channel. Fully fault tolerant. Fully distributed processing. The works."
Bill could barely contain his excitement. "Wow! What a great job! This really is Heaven!"
"We're just finishing construction, and we'll be starting operations soon. Would you like to go see the center now?"
"You bet!"
Abraham and Bill caught the shuttle bus and went to Heaven's new data processing center. It was a truly huge facility, a hundred times bigger than the Astrodome. Workmen were crawling all over the place, getting the miles of fiber optic cables properly installed.
The center was dominated by the computers -- a half million computers, arranged neatly row-by-row, a half million Macintoshes, each running FileMaker Pro and AppleWorks.
Not a PC in sight!
Not a single byte of Microsoft code!
The thought of spending the rest of eternity using products that he had spent his whole life working to destroy was too much for Bill.
"What about PCs?" he exclaimed. "What about Windows? What about Excel? What about Word?"
"You're forgetting something," said Abraham.
"What's that?" asked Bill plaintively.
"This is Heaven," explained Abraham. "We need a computer system that's heavenly to use. If you want to build a data processing center based on PCs running Windows, you'll have to go to Hell."

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While walking down the street one day a US senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in," says the man.
"Well, I'd like to but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven.
Then you can choose were to spend eternity."
"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven," says the senator.
"I'm sorry but we have our rules."
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a club and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress.
They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at expense of the people.
They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne. Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes.
They are having such a good time that, before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit heaven."
So, 24 hours pass with the head of state joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
"Well then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity."
The senator reflects for a minute, then the senator answers: "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell."
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don't understand," stammers the senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and club, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now all there is a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable.
What happened?"
The devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning......
Today you voted".