sample3.txt

dbacl是一个通用目的的digramic贝叶斯文本分类器。它可以学习你提供的文本

A loud clatter of gunk music flooded through the Heart of Gold cabin as Zaphod
searched the sub-etha radio wavebands for news of himself. The machine was
rather difficult to operate. For years radios had been operated by means of
pressing buttons and turning dials; then as the technology became more
sophisticated the controls were made touch-sensitive --- you merely had to
brush the panels with your fingers; now all you had to do was wave your hand in
the general direction of the components and hope. It saved a lot of muscular
expenditure of course, but meant that you had to sit infuriatingly still if you
wanted to keep listening to the same programme.

Zaphod waved a hand and the channel switched again. More gunk music, but this
time it was a background to a news announcement. The news was always heavily
edited to fit the rhythms of the music.

``... and news brought to you here on the sub-etha wave band, broadcasting
around the galaxy around the clock,'' squawked a voice, ``and we'll be saying a
big hello to all intelligent life forms everywhere ... and to everyone else out
there, the secret is to bang the rocks together, guys. And of course, the big
news story tonight is the sensational theft of the new Improbability Drive
prototype ship by none other than Galactic President Zaphod Beeblebrox. And the
question everyone's asking is ... has the big Z finally flipped? Beeblebrox,
the man who invented the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, ex-confidence trickster,
once described by Eccentrica Gallumbits as the Best Bang since the Big One, and
recently voted the Wort Dressed Sentinent Being in the Known Universe for the
seventh time ... has he got an answer this time? We asked his private brain
care specialist Gag Halfrunt ...'' The music swirled and dived for a moment.
Another voice broke in, presumably Halfrunt. He said: ``Vell, Zaphod's jist zis
guy you know?'' but got no further because an electric pencil flew across the
cabin and through the radio's on/off sensitive airspace. Zaphod turned and
glared at Trillian --- she had thrown the pencil.

``Hey,'' he said, what do you do that for?``

Trillian was tapping her fingers on a screenful of figures.

``I've just thought of something,'' she said.

``Yeah? Worth interrupting a news bulletin about me for?''

``You hear enough about yourself as it is.''

``I'm very insecure. We know that.''

``Can we drop your ego for a moment? This is important.''

``If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and
shot now.'' Zaphod glared at her again, then laughed.

``Listen,'' she said, ``we picked up those couple of guys ...''

``What couple of guys?''

``The couple of guys we picked up.''

``Oh, yeah,'' said Zaphod, ``those couple of guys.''

``We picked them up in sector ZZ 9 Plural Z Alpha.''

``Yeah?'' said Zaphod and blinked.

Trillian said quietly, ``Does that mean anything to you?''

``Mmmmm,'' said Zaphod, ``ZZ 9 Plural Z Alpha. ZZ 9 Plural Z Alpha?''

``Well?'' said Trillian.

``Er ... what does the Z mean?'' said Zaphod.

``Which one?''

``Any one.''