From oracle-request@cs.indiana.edu Sun Feb 15 12:26:47 1998 Received: (from daemon@localhost) by sunos.cs.indiana.edu (8.8.7/8.8.7/IUCS_2.15) id MAA03630; Sun, 15 Feb 1998 12:26:47 -0500 (EST) Date: Sun, 15 Feb 1998 12:26:47 -0500 (EST) From: Internet Oracle Message-Id: <199802151726.MAA03630@sunos.cs.indiana.edu> To: oracle-list@cs.indiana.edu Subject: Internet Oracularities #984 Reply-To: oracle-vote@cs.indiana.edu X-Face: )/f9dPAX/dU$1Z!U(/?A PiIJvIOtcN@L.>6,2OKd."T#S7b*{feRf.Kns23^P9.Ak{GdWWv]0*1E}RJ)_idU:(5VkN*_+bB kyrnLfC12B>V/q=z32:05`EcAd.!z#3k]h)O!ZU^E"f`@),(2WT X-Planation: X-Face can be viewed with ftp.cs.indiana.edu:/pub/faces. === 984 ================================================================== Title: Internet Oracularities #984 Compiled-By: Steve Kinzler Date: Sun, 15 Feb 1998 12:26:47 -0500 (EST) To find out all about the Internet Oracle, including how to participate, send mail to oracle@cs.indiana.edu with the word "help" in the subject line. Let us know what you like! Send your ratings of these 10 Oracularities on an integer scale of 1 ("very poor") to 5 ("very good") with the volume number to oracle-vote@cs.indiana.edu (probably just reply to this message). For example: 984 2 1 3 4 3 5 3 3 4 1 979 95 votes emrn9 8uDg2 35oFm 2hDt8 gnDd4 gAt86 divo9 3mCr5 59sxk 9jBic 979 3.0 mean 2.9 2.7 3.8 3.3 2.6 2.5 3.0 3.1 3.6 3.1 --- 984-01 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: "Alyce Wilson.Nesbit" The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > O Great and Powerful Oracle, to whom I am little less than nothing, > please tell me: > > Who wrote the book of love? > And where can I find him so I can shove it up his ass? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Umm... That would be Vatsyayana. And he's been dead for some time, } so shoving it up his ass would not be very productive... but no, } my job is merely to answer your question, not to question your motives. } } Vatsyayana, according to the customs of his people, was delivered } after his death to the Sacred River Ganges. His body was carried } downriver for several miles, until it lodged upon a sandbank. } } At that point, the scavengers took over. I'm not going to go into } the details of this, because frankly, it makes me queasy. Suffice it } to say that there's nothing left of Vatsyayana now but bones. } } Nonetheless, all is not lost! This worthy personage's skeleton } was subsequently discovered (although the finder was not aware of } the skeleton's identity), and carefully reassembled for use by the } medical profession. Vatsyayana now occupies a place of honor at the } School of Ecology and Biotechnology at the International University } of Kyrgyzstan. } } You owe the Oracle a photograph of a skeleton with a book wedged in } its pelvic cavity. --- 984-02 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Otis Viles The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > I know what you're asking yourself. You're asking yourself, did he send > four hundred emails, or only one? Well, keeping in mind this is email > sent from a Cyberpromo account, the most feared spammer on the world, > and is capable of blowing your account clean away, you have to ask > yourself, 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, Oracle? Do you feel lucky? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } As he rounded the dry clapboard building at the end of the dusty } street, the man known only as The Oracle paused. It was quiet. Too } quiet. The town was a deserted, no-account corner of Hell, and he knew } the Cyberpromo Gang was here someplace. } } The Oracle squinted up at the sun, beating down mercilessly on the } dead plain, as he relit his cheroot. Nothing moved but the blowflies } on the poor dead dawg lying in front of the abandoned saloon. He } stepped boldly forward, loosening his pistol in its holster. His pistol } was his only friend; the only one to stand firmly by his side during } the mess with that dance-hall girl (Lisa? Michelle? the names, like the } faces, all blended together) and the worm he knew as Zadoc. But Zadoc } was gone, too, dead as The Oracle's loyal companion Og; dead as his } horse; dead as the Cyberpromo Gang was going to be. Soon. Real soon. } } "Spamford!" called The Oracle. "I know you're here! I've come to call } you to account!" } } A feeble gust of wind blew a pathetic dust devil down the street as } the gang appeared. Skulking like the rats they were, they stepped from } the alleys between the buildings, slipped out of doorways, crawled out } from beneath the sidewalks. Spamford was there, and a dozen others, } faces without names, none of whom would have done anything worse than } selling used horses without Spamford. Spamford fed their sickness, and } drove them on, and railed at them. Spamford was the means by which they } had become more than just the town drunk or a bully in a loud suit. But } none of that mattered anymore. They made their choice. And, just like } Spamford, The Oracle would make them each pay for the crimes they'd } committed. } } "We-ellll," drawled Spamford. "If it ain't T.I. Oracle. Mister High } and Mighty. To whut do ah owe the pleasure?" } } "You know why I'm here, Spamford," replied The Oracle. " I aim to rid } the world of you and your kind. You've taken what was once clean and } pure and dragged it through the dirt. You've turned the inboxes of the } world into your toilet, and you've dragged these boys into the sewer } with you. I aim to make you pay." } } "Haw. Haw. Haw." Spamford laughed without humor, biting off each } syllable. "Clean and pure? Wise up, Orrie, boy. The guv'mint paid fer } all of it. Men like me built it. And men like me are gonna use it. You } kin have yer dreams of schoolkids playin' in the open fields. Meantime, } me 'n my boys are gonna make a killin' off them dreams. It's already } dirty. I'm just doin' what you and your kind don't dare." } } The Oracle stood firmly, glaring grimly at Spamford. It was true, the } dreams of purity and beauty had faded long ago. The dancehall girls and } the rodeo boys had taken that dream, and twisted it, and Spamford and } his kind had left a bad taste in the mouths of the honest folk that } still remained. But a new dream had arisen, one even he didn't quite } understand. And there was no room on the new homestead for the likes of } Spamford. } } Into the silence, The Oracle said, "Draw, Spamford." } } Spamford stood, hands clenching and unclenching. Suddenly he shouted, } "HOW MUCH WOO---" } } A single shot rang from the wooden face of the town. Spamford's } shirtfront blossomed red, and he looked down, mouth working silently. } He looked up at The Oracle, and his eyes opened wide, curious, silently } asking the question he knew he would never be able to ask. } } "Forty-two," breathed The Oracle. } } "Forty-two _what_?" asked Spamford, before he fell face down in the } dust. } } The Oracle stood, watching the remnants of the Cyberpromo Gang. One by } one, they slipped quietly away from him, disappearing in different } directions. When they all had gone, The Oracle knew he hadn't seen the } last of their kind. Evil fled to the dark corners when it was beaten, } but one day, they would find another Spamford, and they'd be back. But } when they returned, they would find him standing tall, defending a } dream he didn't understand, and answering the question no one can ask } with the answer no one understands. Because he is The Oracle. } } You owe the Oracle some Louis Lamour, some Kurosawa, and a little John } Woo. --- 984-03 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Mike Nolan The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Dear, almighty Oracle! > > I'm just a humble applicant with a silly problem: > I have had the hiccups for almost an hour, and I can't > make it stop. > Do You have any advice against hiccups? > > Yours > > H. Ic. And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Dear supplicant, } } There are many traditional ways to get rid of hiccups, some with their } basis in supserstition and folklore, and some that are grounded in } scientific fact. It is important when addressing this issue to } understand the nature of hiccups, and what is going with our diaphragm } when <<<>>> } } There you go, supplicant. You're quite welcome. } } You owe the Oracle a glass of water. --- 984-04 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Mike Nolan The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Oh Oracle most wise, why don't they want jokes about mouse balls on > rec.humor.funny? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Welcome to the ever-expanding world of Usenet! Naturally the } participants in rec.humor.funny are annoyed by your intrusion - they } swap jokes ABOUT humor in that newsgroup. You're looking for } rec.humor.rodent.genitalia.male - the proper forum for this sort of } humor (using that word in it's broadest possible sense). The jokes to } which you refer might be cross-posted acceptably to } rec.humor.computer.ancient, or even } alt.funny.true.life.hardware, but at all costs avoid } alt.science.rodentia.reproductive.d - those guys have no sense of humor } AT ALL. } } You owe the Oracle a 16mm print of Bergman's classic "Rats In Lust" --- 984-05 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Darkmage The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > O great Oracle, > Who can see the far side of the moon, > Who can count the spelling mistakes in the dictionary, > Who can sleep through sex education, > Hear now this pitiful supplicant > unworthy to bathe you with my tongue, > unable to read a menu without assistance. > Please answer my feeble questions: > > If "Einstein" means "One Cup," what does "Frankenstein" mean and why? > Did Einstein really only have one cup? > What did he use his one cup for? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Supplicant! } } You have come the second closest human to understanding a minuscule } subset of the universe! Your human brethren should be semi-proud! } } When they found the papers of chicken scratch next to Einstein's death } bed, do you think they found that he was working on some esotericum } like a Grand Unified Theory or Quantum Gravity? No way! He was } recalculating the Babe's stats to double check for errors. Why? He } performed the same thought experiment you did, and was led to the one } inescapable conclusion: the Standard Model is rubbish; Baseball } Relativity is the true path to understanding. } } BR is an attempt to reduce everything to the axiomatic essentials. In } BR, the einstein, you see, is the basic unit of genital protection, } which, while being highly attractive to players, obeys the Aaron } Exclusion Principle, which says that more than one is just too many. } You must also remember the duality of the einstein, which is also "ein } Stein Bier," and when you have steins of beer floating around at a } ballpark, what else do you expect to see? Hot dogs, of course. This } subset of the general BR theory is called Specal BR Theory, or as the } professors colloquially call it, Frank'n'Stein Theory. } } I hope that sets you on the right path, Young One. } } Oh, and as for how many cups Einstein had: it's all relative to the } number of wieners. And he used his cup(s) to thwack twits like you } upside the head for asking such nonsense. } } You owe the Oracle a great big, plump, juicy, Oscar Meyer. Play ball! --- 984-06 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: David Sewell The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Oh Musically-Inclinedness, what *would* one get if one crossed Vivaldi > and Handel? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } It's obvious, of course. } } A composer who pillaged Rome in the year 455 and spray painted his } compositions on public property. } } You owe the Oracle better puns. --- 984-07 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: clemenr@westminster.ac.uk (Ross Clement) The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Oh Oracle most wise, I suspect my nail clippers, despite outward > appearances, are alive. > > The reason I think this is that every time I buy a pair of nail > clippers, after a period of two or three days they disappear. It never > fails. So the next week, when I want to cut my nails again, I have > to go and buy a new pair. And of course that pair disappears too. > > But here's where it gets really weird. After a few months, all the > nail clippers I've bought suddenly turn up again, so I have twelve > pairs. And then a few weeks later they start disappearing again, > one by one. What on earth are they up to? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Well, I was supposed to keep this a secret, but since you asked, } I'll tell you. They've been out working so they could buy you a nice } birthday gift. } } You owe the oracle a 10-pack of nail clippers. One for each nail. --- 984-08 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: clemenr@westminster.ac.uk (Ross Clement) The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Oh Oracle most wise, > > Did Bill Clinton really have sexual relations with > that lady in the newspapers? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } No, it was in the small study just off the Oval Office. } } You owe the Oracle a parse of your question. --- 984-09 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: David Sewell The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > How are things in Glocamora? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } How are things in Indiana? } Are those priests still sleeping there? } Do they still run that mail-queue with care? } With sorry begs, null-query and w**dch*ck-hair? } } How are things in Indiana? } Is that pawn of mine still staying there? } Does old Zadoc with the mournful eye } Come crawling by and does he shuffle away } Sad and broken after I ZOT him there? } So I ask you, sorry fellow } And each supplicant today } And each that comes to Me askin' } Questions today } How are things in Indiana } This fine day? } } You owe the Oracle a pint of Guiness and a Celtic translation } of "On a clear day you can see forever". --- 984-10 --------------------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: David Sewell The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Oracle: Why do you stay? > Zadoc: Why do you keep me? > Oracle: There's no one else. > Zadoc: There's nowhere else. And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Oracle: What's wrong with you? } Zadoc: Nothing. } Oracle: I'm going. } Zadoc: So am I. } [they do not move] } Oracle: I hear something. } Zadoc: Here? Where? } [they listen, bent double] } Oracle: Wait. . . } [takes off wizard-hat, concentrates] } Zadoc: Let me see it. [takes wizard-hat, concentrates] } Ah! } Oracle: Well? } Zadoc: Look at it. } [they look at wizard-hat] } Oracle: It must be Fall. } Zadoc: Anymore it's always Fall. } Oracle: I want it back. } [snatches wizard-hat back] } Zadoc: Look, it's Lisa. } Oracle: No, it's a boy. } Boy: Lisa told me to tell you she won't be coming } this day, but surely tommorow. } [leaves] } Zadoc: Why wait? } Oracle: Let's go. } [they do not move] } } You owe The Oracle a season pass to Theatre de Babylone.