Granted, M$ release "Windows 2012 Araura Home Edition 128" and it is totally bug
free.

Everyone buys it and quickly all religion is replaced by the glorification of Microsoft.
Temples are set up across the world and all talk of the "blue screen" is punishable by
death.
With in 10 years Bill Gates has achieved immortality by converting him self in to pure
code. His spirit is now in every home PC watching you and subtly guiding the course
of world history.
You however, become cynical of this new world and the omniprescent cult of
Microsoft. You have to keep this secret and go into hiding. You are hunted like a
dog across the desert wastelands by a crack team of IT staff. You have no option
but to find the shady Linux resistance group....if they even exist.
Soon you resort to eating your own leg to stay alive. Just after you have finished
chewing it off, the IT staff capture you and take you to M$ HQ.
In the dungeons and recherche labs of M$ your brain is removed and replaced by a
Pentium XII pro. From that point things don't really get much better until the day
you are melted down for your trace gold content.

I wish I had a sandwich

I thought this was wishes, not miracles?

Anyway, granted, but if they do that, it will only lead to accusations of them having a monopoly from Apple, and if your PC was reliable, it would rob you of the constant masochistic thrill of trying to get it to work optimally, an your life would become and empty shadow of its former self.

I wish was in Dixie

(edit, Letum wins)

:D Chock

Brilliant! :yep:

sry guys, as you were...

Sorry I went off track asking for a miracle instead of of a wish.

Chock...
Granted, you are in Dixie. However all is not quite as the song suggests and in a fit of depression and rage you will hack of your own head with a cooking spoon.

Letum...
Granted, you have a sandwich. However it contains the Salmonella bug which will nearly kill you until you are rushed to a hospital. In hospital you contract MRSA which does kill you, horribly.

I wish I had a faster motorbike.....

Granted. You just obtained the new Harley-Davidson, fastest production bike in the world. You dump it doing 80 on the freeway in third gear, scrape one side of your face off and break every bone in your body requiring a full body cast. While in the cast, A group of Hells Angels busts into your house, steals your bike and turns out your girlfriend, who decides to join them as one of their mamas.

I wish we had world peace.

Granted!

All conflict is instantly abandoned.
One by one political divisions become blurred and then disappear altogether. People
stop worrying where the borders of their countries are and all walls and fences are
removed. Before long the terms "country" or "nation" cease to exist.
Prisons across the world release the last of their inmates and courtrooms gather dust
as museums to the "old days" when man was still capable of harming fellow man.
The conflict on the economic battlefield of business dies away and soon no one put
any more value in a $50 note than they would to a pebble on the beach. With this,
the conflicts of jealousy, want and greed evaporate and the idea that one can
"have" something that is not in your hands or belly seams alien and illogical.
The world has entered a golden age where the products of human kind fund then
befit of human kind and not the struggle of nations, economies or religions. It is a
world of innocence. There is no reason not to trust anyone as no one has any
motive to be dishonest.
However, Ishmael, you find one person you are not sure you can trust. Can you
trust your self? For weeks now you have been hiding things, keeping them for your
self. You started with some of the villages supply of fruit, stashing plumbs away in a
box under your bed to eat later instead of leaving them in to store house for people
to eat as they wanted them. When people noticed they thought you where just a little
excentric. You know it wasn't eccentricity. You wanted those plumbs. Just like
you wanted to shout at your friend's brother, Keenan, when he accidentally woke
you up, drunk the week before. Of course, at first he didn't understand when you
shouted at him, that kind of thing hasn't happened in the world for many, many
years. Any other person would have just cursed their own bad luck and got back to
sleep, but not you, you cursed him, told him to stay the hell out of your room.
For a while he stood, staring bemused at your outburst, swaying slightly with the
unlabeled bottle of whiskey in his hand. And then you saw something in his face that
made you stop shouting and fixed your gaze into his eyes.
You saw that you had hurt him. You had become the first person to hurt another
human since anyone could remember. It was as if by stumbling into your room he had
stumbled in to all the evils that no longer existed in the world. With in you, Ishmael,
he had found a Pandora's box, birming full of all natural conflict, hatred and jealousy
that has sparked a million ancient wars, murders and immoralities of the old world.
Keenan dropped the bottle of whiskey and fled out of your room, howling in misery as
you stood unable to speak as you realised the horror of what you where and the damage
you could do to the world. It doesn't take you long to decide that you have
to make sure that you can not allow your self to risk letting the evils in your nature
back into the world. You pick up the whiskey bottle from the floor, rip out some
electric cable from the computer in the corner and begin to drink as you tie the
noose that will save the world.


I wish for a little more time to live and experience the world. A few lifetimes should do.

Granted, but then you will grow bored with the world as you have expirenced everything that the world has to offer by your 3rd lifetime. With one more to go you can you face another 90 odd years doing the same old same old?

I'd like to see Indonesia's rainforests preserved so Organ-utans have somewhere to live.

Granted, but they become infected with some weired monkey virus and kill you, like Joseph Smith the Mormon...

I wish that I could live the life of a WWI pilot.

Granted. Unfortunately, too close contact between Orang and human, combined with the pernicious effect of sign-language education among upper order primates as a whole(The Koko Factor), contributes to accelerated development in Chimps, Gorillas, Baboons and Orangs.

While left alone in research labs at night, enterprising chimps research University computers and the internet concentrating on weapons systems development, comparative religions, Early Native American Governance and petropolitics.

Finally, the Orangs strike, after Hacking into Indonesian government computers to increase the exchange of Zoo exhibits, special Orang commando units or Ornaz strike every zoo in the land, releasing all upper and lower order primates. They then reveal the true genius of their plan.

Attacking at dawn on a broad front across Borneo, Java and all the islands, they appear armed and armored entirely with weapons made with pig feces laminated and laquered in layers. The largely Muslim Indonesian Army is hard-pressed to find countering tactics and strategy due to religious instructions regarding pork and pork byproducts. The Orang Army, by now reinforced with all other primates, roll their blitzkrieg over the entire country seizing the oil fields and holding the human economy hostage to their demands. In return for a membership seat at OPEC and a place in the round of traditional tribal kings of the Islands, The Orangs form a new government with their human partners based on the Iroquois Confederacy. At the establishment of the new government, the surviving tribal chiefs of the Iroquois attend the inaugural session.

(Very good, Letum. A few typos and misspellings, but the overall feel and effect of the story was quite good. If I was in that position, seppuku always appealed to me. Must be having to commit it in a past life myself.)

I wish I had some toast.

Granted, but it is so black that it falls apart when you go to touch it.

I wish that I could control Germany in 1910.

Granted. You obtain a commission in the fledgling Royal Flying Corps. It is August, 1915. You are given one of the new observation aircraft, A Bristol Biplane. You take off from your aerodrome the afternoon of the 19th and head for the front lines. As you start your turn over the trenches and your observer begins taking photos, a shadow falls across you out of the sun. It's a new type of German machine with only one wing. As the observer puts the camera away and brings his machine gun to bear, the staccato chatter of a single Spandau on an interrupter cam echoes in your ears as a line of holes stitch across the fabric of your fuselage, setting your fuel on fire, and running up your observer's frame as he slumps over. With no parachute, you jump from the diving, flaming wreck that was once your machine and the last thing you see is Oswald Boelcke saluting you from his Fokker E-III as you fall the first victim of the Fokker Scourge and Boelcke's Dicta.

Dicta Boelcke1.Always try to secure an advantageous position before attacking. Climb before and during the approach in order to surprise the enemy from above, and dive on him swiftly from the rear when the moment to attack is at hand.2.Try to place yourself between the sun and the enemy. This puts the glare of the sun in the enemy's eyes and makes it difficult to see you and impossible for him to shoot with any accuracy.3.Do not fire the machine guns until the enemy is within range and you have him squarely within your sights.4.Attack when the enemy least expects it or when he is preoccupied with other duties such as observation, photography or bombing.5.Never turn your back and try to run away from an enemy fighter. If you are surprised by an attack on your tail, turn and face the enemy with your guns.6.Keep your eye on the enemy and do not let him deceive you with tricks. If your opponent appears damaged, follow him down until he crashes to be sure he is not faking.7.Foolish acts of bravery only bring death. The Jasta must fight as a unit with close teamwork between all pilots. The signal of its leaders must be obeyed.

I wish I had some toast.

Granted, but you know that to hart toasted, it can give you cancer

I wish that we all, everyone in here, could meet, like we did in Holland.

Markus

Granted. After downloading the 'latest, greatest' mod for SH4, while playing a campaign, your computer induces in you a deep hypnotic state during which you a have an out-of-body experience.
You find yourself floating over an azure Pacific Ocean with a beautiful blue sky dotted with small cumulus clouds and lit by a brilliant tropical sun. A tiny Pacific Atoll appears on the horizon, gleaming in shades of jungle greens and surrounded by a ribbon of white sand beaches and reefs. The atoll rapidly looms larger and larger as you find yourself flying towards it.
Gazing about, you soon notice you are not alone on your incredible journey. A number of your Subsim friends are also floating in the air above and around you, all heading towards the Pacific jewel of an atoll... The air is full of cheerful hoots and hollars as friends old and new, greet each other enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to the circumstances that has brought them together again...
Moments later, gliding low over the living reef, you all arrive at the atoll. Mysteriously, a large bonfire is blazing away on the sparkling white sand beach, cases of everyone's favorite beverages have washed ashore intact and an old crate marked "RCA Victorola" has appeared... Ripe coconuts and delcious island fruits are available in abundance for the picking at the edge of the beach. Schooling fish swim placidly in the waist deep shallows of the lagoon, seagulls and cormorants circle steadily above.

Someone opens the crate to find not only a gramaphone, but a large number of vinyl records. He places a record on the gramaphone...

I wish I had more time to spend with my wife...

Ganted, But she will be suffering bad PMT and then will drag you along while she shops for shoes, clothes, etc....

I wish I could have a holiday

Granted but you'll probably end up in a cheap trailer park surrounded with white trash who look like the kind of people you probably need a holiday from:

http://www.webwombat.com.au/entertai.../185midget.jpg


I want a ride on the A380 (Just watching it take off from SYD at the moment).