The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Is it true that Canada is planning an invasion?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Planning? No...
}
} Executing? Yes...
}
} The Canadian invasion started over 30 years ago, when Lorne Greene
} snuck his way onto a television lot, and picked up the role of Pa on
} Bonanza.
}
} Following in his footsteps, was Alan Thicke, Michael J. Fox, William
} Shatner, started the initial attack. It was silent, stealthy, and no
} one saw it coming. The onslaught continued with Anne Murray, Tom
} Cochrane, Alanis Morissette, Shania Twain, Barenaked Ladies, Sloan, and
} the Crash Test Dummies stormed the border, bagpipes a-wailing, striking
} fear in the hearts of Americans (and Grammy judges)
}
} The latest attack has been the hardest... Superspies Jim Carrey and
} Pamela Anderson have made there way into the U.S.A's wallet, tapping
} them for millions of dollars for each appearance...
}
} So, face it... the war has been lost, the U.S. has already been taken
} over by Canadians... and you never new it, because they look just like
} you... eh?
}
} You owe the Oracle two liters of maple syrup, a stubby bottle of beer,
} and a kilo of back bacon.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh great Oracle, who knows who wrote the _Book of Love_, please
tell
> me...
>
> Why can't I remember my question?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Ummmm..I am sorry..but I can't remember the answer....
} You owe the Oracle...ummm..something.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh Oracle most beloved of the really smart guys, please tell me...
>
> I've awakened alive everyday for the last twenty seven years. I
have
> never been dead for that time. Wouldn't logic indicate that after
9,954
> consecutive mornings where I'm not dead, I should never die?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} SEEKER OF WISDOM ALSO SEEKS LIFE
}
} After nearly 10,000 consecutive days of not being dead, an anonymous
} seeker of wisdom ran out of luck. Earlier this week he realized
} that in asking the question of the allmighty Oracle he has confirmed
} that he does not have a life at all. His reaction was an obscure
} suicide note with the words "facinating proof" scrawled in the margin.
} All that remained of the body was a bit of ash where the victim had
} reportedly disappeared in a puff of logic.
}
} "He thought he had it all," the friend of the victim said, "he had
} a great run going, and felt that he was immortal because, after all,
} he hadn't died yet."
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh Oracle, whose brain never hurts, please tell me...
>
> Who is that little dude, and why does he insist on running a jackhammer
> against the inside of my skull?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} From "Field Guide to Minor Gods, Goddesses, Spirits and
} Elementals", published by Olympus University Press, price 2 silver
} talents:
}
} Bichus, minor god.
}
} Provenance: Offspring of Juno. Born nine months after
}
Feast of Saturnalia. Juno claims no memory of
}
circumstances of conception, but Bacchus has
}
subsequently been struck by lightening more
}
often than pure chance would suggest.
}
} Appearance: Pale face, bloodshot eyes, lank hair, unkempt.
}
} Habitat: Dark rooms, gutters.
}
} Distinguishing marks, gestures, calls:
}
Perspires heavily.
}
Frequently holds hands to head.
}
"Omigods, I swear, never again!"
}
} Regalia: Traditionally, a muffled drum with a peculiarly
}
penetrating beat, but will use anything that can
}
make an unpleasant monotonous noise.
}
} Relatives: Sislatsirep, green-faced minor goddess. Frequently
}
seen in her company.
}
} You owe the Oracle a new year resolution.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Why is the sky blue?
> Why does the sun come up in the east and not the west?
> Why can't I reach that place in the small of my back where it itches?
> Why doesn't Nightmare Ned OD on NoDoz and never fall asleep again?
> Why won't my insurance pay for SRS?
> Will SRS improve my love life?
> Will my love life improve?
> Will you prove my life?
> Why do pilots say roger?
> Why do I watch Mr. Rogers?
> Will you fix my watch?
> How do planes fly?
> How does Superman fly?
> Would a fly without wings be called a walk?
> What is a walk through?
> Can I walk though a wall?
> How does a can walk?
> Can a can be leash trained?
> Why does the only Scotsman in 'Highlander' play a Spaniard?
> Isn't he really an Egyptian?
> How did the Egyptians build the pyramids?
> Did aliens help them?
> Are aliens out there?
> Is THE TRUTH out there?
> What is THE TRUTH?
> When will we know?
> When will this list end?
> Why didn't I stop there?
> What's My problem?
> What the answer?
> Who?
> What?
> Where?
> When?
> Why?
> How?
> How Much?
> How much wood would a w--dchuck chuck if a w--dchuck could chuck wood?
> How much mix would a mixer mix if a mixer could mix mix?
> How many bats would a batter bat if a batter could bat bats?
> How can I get my batting average up?
> How can I get my math average up?
> How can I avoid math?
> How will math help me?
> Will you help me?
> How do you spell help?
> How do you cast a spell?
> What is the complete cast of Les Mis?
> Will Gen. Halftrack ever catch Ms. Buxley?
> What is half a track?
> Can you track only half?
> Will I ever stop?
> Will they end up taking me away?
> Where will they take me?
> Where is the funny farm?
> Who is Napoleon III?
> Was Napoleon ill?
> Am I ill?
> Are You?
> RU?
> R2D2?
> C D Puppies?
> Would you please answer my questions Oh Oracle most wise?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Because its girlfriend just left it.
} It doesn't want to confuse you.
} Because you're not a chimpanzee.
} Because OD'ing on NoDoz would kill him.
} Because paying for Some Real Sex amounts to prostitution, which is
} illegal.
} Wouldn't you like to know?
} Nope, sorry.
} Only you can prove your life--look up Descartes.
} In honor of their greatest hero, Roger Ramjet.
} Simple pleasures for simple minds.
} No, but you _could_ start running west, really, really fast.
} By flapping their arms and thinking of Victoria Principal's little
} sister, Bernoulli.
} If you wore pants that tight, you'd fly too.
} It wouldn't matter what you called it, it wouldn't come.
} It's sort of like a doorway, but it's not.
} Sure! Give it a try!
} On its little legs.
} No, but it can be freight trained.
} It's called "creative casting."
} No, he isn't.
} They used Acme Instant Pyramid (just add water).
} Yeah, Jose and Enrico helped them.
} Sure, East Los Angeles is FULL of them.
} Yes, it is.
} That "THE TRUTH" is a figment of a writer's imagination--shh, it's a
} secret.
} When you get this reply from Me.
} Not soon enough, that much is certain.
} It's genetic.
} See above; it has to do with inbreeding.
} Flossing is the answer.
} Me, the Internet Oracle.
} A thunderbolt.
} You're sitting on the spot marked "X."
} Immediately.
} Because I'm annoyed.
} At the speed of light.
} Until nothing remains.
} Two cords an hour until I <ZOT!> both of you.
} This question is the offspring of a demon and a woodchuck.
} So is this one; you need an exorcism, quickly.
} Bribe the kid who keeps the records.
} By turning off your computer.
} By showing you just how many Big Macs to make when you have to make
} three orders at once.
} Sure I will.
} Z, O, T.
} I get Zeus to do that magic stuff for me--he's more flashy than I am.
} Me, Lisa, Zadoc, Darkmage, Zeus, Kirsten Chevalier; guest-starring Joel
} Furr as "Lemur Boy," and Joann Worley as AOLisa.
} Nope. Sad, isn't it?
} It's sort of a horseshoe shape.
} Yes; it's twice as easy, in fact.
} Definitely.
} Not if I can <ZOT!> you first.
} Away from that computer, I hope.
} Look around you.
} He was Emperor of France and Protector of Mexico in the 1870s, until he
} made the mistake of declaring war on Prussia.
} When he got deposed, he was.
} I'd have to say, yes.
} Not yet, but I'm getting there.
} No, I'm not R. U. Sirius.
} C3PO.
} No, I don't see any puppies.
} Yes, I'd answer your questions.
}
} You owe the Oracle a list of reasons _not_ to <ZOT!> you.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh mighty Oracle, whose something is really something great, please
> tell me...
>
> I'm wanting to get in to domestic terrorism, and I heard that the
> Internet is the best place to find all sorts of fringe groups.
Can you
> tell me which ones are the best?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Probably the best of all the fringe groups is alt.sewing.fringe.
} In this group, you can learn how to make yourself a Daniel Boone
} deerskin jacket, or a 70's era dancin' suit, with rhinestones and
} flashing fringes, for the disco fool inside of us all!
}
} You owe the Oracle 19.95. But wait! There's more...
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh great Oracle, most fantastic, please tell me...
>
> Why are the lines at the banks so long? The people up front aren't
> doing anything. They're just standing there. What I mean
is: would it
> be all right if I just WHIPPED OUT AN UZI AND SPRAYED THE ROOM, or do
> you think that would be rude?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} In the days when only the rich had need for a bank, the lines were
} quite small. Service was quick and the clerks most helpful. Now the
} masses have grown to an unmanageable size and the banks have decided to
} help Darwinian Evolution.
}
} It is a double pronged approach.
}
} The clerks work slower than ever in order to let the lines grow. When
} the line grows to a predetermined size, half of the clerks take off for
} lunch. The remaining clerks will then proceed with one of two actions:
} Slow down even further, or claim their computer-terminal is off-line.
}
} Sometime after that, it is well documented that someone will, indeed,
} pull out an uzi and spray the room. Those smart enough to know this
} will happen will have already left. Those less smart but still smarter
} than sheep will manage to duck for cover the second the Uzi-Wielder
} theatrically opens his over-coat to retrieve said weapon.
}
} Those unfortunate enough to get hit will die, thinning the population
} and saving the gene-pool from their less-than-desirable genes.
}
} The bank tellers are of course, protected by bullet-proof glass.
}
} The second prong of this is that the Uzi-Wielder will be put to death
} as soon as they are caught, convicted, sentenced and waste millions
of
} dollars on their Court Appeals. This saves the gene-pool from
} overly-aggressive and impatient genes.
}
} So, impatient Supplicant, you have Three Choices:
} Wait as long as you can tolerate it and hope the clerks
get to you
} before someone draws their Uzi.
} Wait as long as you can tolerate it and make sure you
draw your Uzi
} first.
} Bank by Modem.
}
} You owe the Oracle a 1st Edition copy of "Origin of the Species".
[This had been edited prior to digestion, which, I think, ruined the joke. I've restored it.]
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
>\
> \
> \
> \
> /
> /
> /
>/
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Really you supplicants are losing your respect for me. No grovel
no
} decent question. Anyway I will answer it.
}
} The imagery seen in this question harks back to the Nazca lines in the
} Mexican desert. These lines were put down to guide the gods from
other
} planets to Earth to dispense knowledge and wisdom. Or so people think.
} Supplicant, you may already know that these lines are in fact a hoax.
} Like the crop circles in the UK I put these lines here, it's kind of an
} etch-a-sketch for the gods, just we forgot to shake the planet around
} to remove them. Last time we did clear the lines away so we could
have
} another game of battleships all the dinosaurs disappeared so we figured
} we'd better not do it again. That's why they appear all over the
} place.
}
} You owe the Oracle a minature of Stonehenge.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh mighty Oracle, whose pens never run out of ink, especially when
he's
> writing a check, and the cashier doesn't have a pen of her own, please
> tell me...
>
> How can I get rid of all this paper work, without just throwing it
> away? I may need it later.
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Well, if you didn't need it later, I could give you a hundred and
} one ways to get rid of it. That little condition complicates
} matters, however.
}
} Oh, I know what you could do. Go find one of those photocopiers
} that can handle 11-by-17 paper. Put two sheets of your paperwork
} side by side, then copy them at half size, so they'll fit on one
} piece of letter paper. Throw away the originals, and do the same
} thing to the next two sheets of your paperwork. Then take the two
} photocopies, put them side by side, and reduce them. With a little
} bit of work, you can jam all your paperwork onto a single piece of
} paper. When you need the paperwork back again, just reverse the
} process! (Sure, it'll be a little grainy, but it's well worth the
} convenience, wouldn't you say?)
}
} You owe the Oracle a copy of _The Decline and Fall of the Roman
} Empire_ on a postage stamp.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh mighty Oracle, whose something is really something great, please
> tell me...
>
> I'm wanting to get in to domestic terrorism, and I heard that the
> Internet is the best place to find all sorts of fringe groups.
Can you
> tell me which ones are the best?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Yes, I think that the Afghan fringe groups are the best. My auntie
} Delphi used to crochet large afghans, whilst waiting for supplicants,
} and she always put a fringe on them. They were terrible, the fringes
} always falling off when we took them home. Domestic terror for sure.
} You can't even begin to imagine.
}
} You owe the Oracle a Galois group.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Rd ip.ay Rpajn, Ln.ao. y.nn m. ,df C jabbry go. a "<>PYF t.fxrapdv
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Yes, I know, the entire State of Maine is like that. Nevertheless,
} at your age you should have known better than to lick the telephone
} pole in January. They'll get to you as soon as they can.
}
} You owe the Oracle a snowmobile, I can see you already built...or
} are...the ramp.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> That's right, answer boy, the gig's up. Put the woodchuck down,
your
> hands up, and step away from the keyboard.
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} FIVE WAYS TO END THE ORACLE STORY:
}
} 1: The Tarantino twist:
}
} The scene: ORACLE and WOODCHUCK, both
badly shot up, lying on the
} floor. Sounds from outside reveal that the warehouse is surrended by
} the police.
}
} ORACLE (to woodchuck): Don't worry, kid. Everything's gonna be all
} right. We'll do the time in no time.
}
} WOODCHUCK: I'm a cop.
}
} ORACLE: What? I didn't hear you.
}
} WOODCHUCK: Larry^H^H^H^H^H Orrie, I'm a cop.
}
} ORACLE: WHAT? AAAARRRGGGGHHH!!!!!
}
} <Oracle fires his gun repeatedly at the Woodchuck. Police shout
} warnings. Fade out to the sound of several guns firing.>
}
} 2: Butch and Sundance melodrama:
}
} The scene: Orrie and the Woodchuck lying
on the floor of a small
} cottage, both bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. The cottage is
} surrounded by the entire Bolivian Army.
}
} ORACLE: So, how do you feel about going to Australia?
}
} WOODCHUCK: Oh no, not another half-brained idea.
}
} ORACLE: Let's blast our way out of here.
}
} WOODCHUCK: Keep thinking. That's what you're good at.
}
} <Picture freezes as Orrie and the Woodchuck storm out of the cottage.
} The sound of lots and lots of gunfire is gradually replaced by a sad
} variant of the theme music. Roll credits.>
}
} 3: The Crying Game Scam:
}
} The scene: A wee cottage. Orrie is
there, and the Woodchuck,
} wearing a dress.
}
} WOODCHUCK (in an Irish accent): Top o' the mornin' to ya, Orrie, oy
} have ta tell ya somethin'.
}
} ORACLE: Oh? What?
}
} WOODCHUCK: Oy'm not raylly a beeuutefuhl woman. Oy'm a woadchock.
}
} ORACLE: WHAT? AAAARRRGGGGHHH.
}
} <fade out as Orrie faints from the terrible shock.>
}
} 4: Star Wars Climax:
}
} The Scene: Orrie and the Woodchuck face
to face in a lightsabre
} fight, *mano a woodchucko*.
}
} ORRIE: I'm gonna git ya, sucka (I had to put *some* blaxploitation
} stuff in here somewhere).
}
} WOODCHUCK (voice of James Earl Jones): Orrie, I am your father.
}
} ORACLE: Say what?
}
} WOODCHUCK (voice of James Earl Jones) : I am your father.
}
} ORACLE: WHAT??? ARRRRRGGGGHHH.
}
} <then a terrible fight in space breaks out, culminating with the
} explosion of the INDIANA.EDU-Star.>
}
} 5: Beavis and Butthead:
}
} The scene: The Internet Oracle, wearing
a 'Sepultura' T-shirt,
} and the Woodchuck, wearing a 'Korn' T-shirt, sitting on a couch
} watching the computer screen.
}
} ORACLE: Uh huh-huh, huh-huh. This sucks. Some guy is saying that the
} gig's up.
}
} WOODCHUCK: Uh-huh-huh, mmhh-heh-heh. You said 'up'.
}
} ORACLE: Yeah. That was cool. Uh-huh-huh. Well, I think I'll have to go
} 'put down the woodchuck'. Uh-huh-huh, huh-huh.
}
} WOODCHUCK: You said 'wood'. Uh-huh-huh.
}
} <Orrie gets up and leaves the picture.>
}
} WOODCHUCK: 'Wood'. Uh huh-huh.
}
} <Show another music video, then roll credits.>
}
} You owe the Oracle a movie deal.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> (There is a knock on the door, ABBY and MARTHA, two sweet, charming
old
> ladies, answer the door. ZADOC, a shabby, disheveled high priest
of
> The Internet Oracle, stands outside.)
>
> Abby: How do you do.
>
> Zadoc: I understand you have a room to rent.
>
> Abby: Of course, I'm Miss Brewster, and this is my sister, another
> Miss Brewster.
>
> Martha: Hello.
>
> Zadoc: My name is Zadoc.
>
> Abby: Come in Mr. Zadoc. (ZADOC enters) Sit down, we
want to get to
> know you.
>
> Zadoc: That won't matter, if I don't like the room.
>
> Martha: Are your family Brooklyn people?
>
> Zadoc: I haven't got a family; I live with an Oracle, don't like
it.
>
> Abby: All alone in the world?
>
> (ABBY and MARTHA exchange a look. MARTHA goes to the sideboard,
and
> takes out a bottle of wine, and a glass.)
>
> Zadoc: Well-
>
> Abby: Mr. Zadoc, why don't you try a glass of our wine?
>
> Zadoc: Never touch it, after this episode in Mexico... The
room?
>
> (Enter TEDDY from the cellar, TEDDY is a large man, who bears an
> uncanny resemblance to Theodore Roosevelt.)
>
> Teddy: I've just finished digging the new locks for the Canal,
so,
> Aunt Martha, Aunt Abby, if you don't mind, I'll retire.
>
> Martha: Thank you, Teddy.
>
> Teddy: (As he approaches the landing at the top of the stairs)
> CHARGE!!!
>
> Zadoc: Who was that?
>
> Martha: One of our nephews, he thinks he's President Roosevelt.
>
> Zadoc: I see, and the reason he...
>
> Abby: The stairs are always San Juan Hill. Are you sure about
the
> wine? It's elderberry wine. We make it ourselves.
>
> Zadoc: Elderberry wine? I haven't had elderberry wine since
I was a
> boy.
>
> (ZADOC takes the offered glass, and raises it to his lips...
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} ... then stops and observes the glass suspiciously.)
}
} Zadoc: Wait a second, this wine has an unusual scent.
}
} Abby: (laughing nervously) Why, Mr. Zadoc, I assure you it's just
} ordinary elderberry wine!
}
} Zadoc: (waving the glass slowly under his nose) Amusing, but with
a
} musky bouquet ... strong fruity ambience ... with a slight undertone of
} ... aspen wood.
}
} Martha: Oh, my, a true wine connoiseur!
}
} (Zadoc rises and moves to the window, holding the wine up to the
} sunlight.)
}
} Zadoc: Yes ... a most oblique body and cocquettish flow ... a rich
} melodic hue with a light leafy character.
}
} Abby: How exciting! You must taste it now, Mr. Zadoc!
}
} Zadoc: Of course.
}
} (Zadoc briskly raises the glass to his lips again and swishes the wine
} around his mouth, swallows it, then drains the glass.)
}
} Zadoc: How delicious!
}
} (Zadoc immediately crumples into the window seat, lifeless.)
}
} Abby: (in a strangely gruff, high-pitched voice) All right, let's
drag
} his sorry butt out of here.
}
} Martha: (in a similar voice) Hold on! We need to get his terminal
} ready first.
}
} Abby: Fine, let's just hurry.
}
} (The two elderly ladies open the basement door and scurry downstairs.
} As they vanish from sight, the front door opens, and the handsome,
} dashing INTERNET ORACLE enters.)
}
} Oracle: Abby! Martha! It is I, your nephew, Orrie!
}
} (Silence.)
}
} Oracle: Hello? Martha? Abby?
}
} (The Oracle enters the room, looks around, and sees Zadoc's body
} sprawled out in the window seat.)
}
} Oracle: Great Scott! It's Zadoc! And he's ...
}
} (Abby and Martha return from the basement, huffing and puffing.)
}
} Martha: Oh, hello, dear!
}
} Oracle: Abby! Martha! There's a dead man in your house!
}
} Abby: Yes, dear, we know ... Forget you ever saw the gentleman.
We
} never dreamed you'd peek!
}
} Oracle: That's no gentleman, that's my high priest, Zadoc!
}
} Martha: (beginning to shake profusely) Why, Orrie, dear, do you know
} this man? He said the only person he knew was an Oracle.
}
} Oracle: All right, aunts, I must tell you. I, the one you know
as
} your sweet young nephew Orrie, am in reality The Internet Oracle.
And
} this man, Zadoc, is my high priest.
}
} Abby: (in a hoarse, choked whisper to Martha) You incredible
} blockhead! I thought you checked this place out!
}
} Oracle: What?
}
} Abby: Nothing! Well, Orrie, you've caught us! Ha ha!
We, uh ... we
} do this as a charitable act! Yeah, that's the ticket! Charitable!
}
} Martha: Yeah! Ha ha! We find these pathetic loser types
and make
} them drink our homemade elderberry wine, which we've laced with --
}
} Abby: Arsenic!
}
} Martha: Arsenic?
}
} Abby: (with a swift elbow to Martha's ribs) Yes, arsenic! Ha
ha! We
} kill them to put them out of their misery, then we give them a decent
} burial.
}
} Martha: In the basement.
}
} (Abby decks Martha with a hard right.)
}
} Oracle: The basement?
}
} Abby: Um, yes, Teddy helps us ... dig graves! We tell him it's
the
} Panama canal.
}
} Oracle: You kill innocent people and bury them in your basement?
}
} Martha: Don't forget, they're pathetic losers.
}
} Oracle: (glancing at Zadoc's body) Well, I'll give you that one ...
}
} Abby: So you can see that everything's really okay, you can just
run
} along, and we'll take care of your friend Zadoc here. Goodbye.
}
} Oracle: (staring at the open basement door) What's that clicking
} sound?
}
} Martha: There's no clicking sound.
}
} Abby: You don't hear a clicking sound.
}
} Martha: It's probably my stomach.
}
} (The Oracle moves to the basement door and peers down.)
}
} Oracle: No, I hear clicking, and ... and that was a modem!
}
} Martha: Cockroaches!
}
} Abby: Mice!
}
} (The Oracle starts down the basement stairs.)
}
} Martha: No! You can't go down there!
}
} (Martha and Abby grab the Oracle's sleeves, but the Oracle shakes them
} off and marches down the stairs. Suddenly he sees a dimly lit hall
} with tiny cubicles dug out of the floor. Row after row of pale,
} zombie-like people sit staring into monochrome monitors, typing
} endlessly on dirty keyboards. Aghast at the sight, the Oracle moves
} closer to see what they are typing.)
}
} Zombie 1: How much wood would a --
}
} Oracle: No!
}
} Zombie 2: woodchuck chuck if a --
}
} Oracle: It can't be!
}
} Zombie 3: woodchuck could chuck wood?
}
} Oracle: No! The horror!
}
} (The Oracle runs from the basement screaming in terror.)
}
} Oracle: I can't believe it! My own family! My aunts!
Responsible
} for the unending torrent of w**dchuck questions!
}
} Martha: Oh no! He knows it all now!
}
} Abby: (with a cruel sneer) Get a grip, you simp. Oracle!
You want
} the truth? Here's the truth! We lure losers here, and we give
them
} elderberry wine. But it's not laced with arsenic. It's laced
with
} aspen wood! We drug them and make them our slaves! Night and
day they
} toil! We sign each one up with an ISP (You don't need to buy Internet
} access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from
} Juno at http://www.juno.com Or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866])
} and they send woodchuck question after woodchuck question until they
} die! Ha ha ha ha ha!
}
} Oracle: (sobbing) My relatives, my own relatives ... Inanity runs
in
} my family! It practically gallops!
}
} Martha: But we're not your aunts.
}
} Oracle: What?
}
} Abby: Shut up, "Martha".
}
} Oracle: What did you say?
}
} Martha: (shaking again) Nothing.
}
} Oracle: You said you're not my aunts!
}
} (The Oracle walks menacingly toward the two old ladies.)
}
} Abby: Get back!
}
} (The Oracle lunges and grabs them by the hair. Suddenly their masks
} fly off, revealing the two not to be Orrie's aunts Abby and Martha, but
} two giant whimpering R.O.U.S. gang members [* See Ish #988-06 - Ed.])
}
} Oracle: Marmots!
}
} Abby: All right, all right, now you know everything. We ditched
the
} old ladies and took over their operation. So sue us!
}
} Oracle: (in calm, measured tones) Lawsuits won't be necessary, boys.
} In fact, you won't need any kind of suit at all!
}
} (sfx: Much screaming, zotting, and bloodshed ensues. The R.O.U.S.
are
} zotted soundly, as are all the pitiful zombies in the basement.)
}
} Oracle: (running out the front door, and calling for Lisa) Lisa!
} Lisa, darling, can you hear me? I'm not the son of a w**dchuck!
And
} moreoveor, I've permanently solved the problems of w**dchuck questions,
} Juno incarnations, and inanity!
}
} (As the Oracle leaves, Zadoc awakes and rubs his eyes.)
}
} Zadoc: I forgot what a hangover I get from elderberry wine.
I need to
} I need to go toss a two by four.
}
} ... You owe the Oracle a starring (and victorious) role in "Aspenwood
} and Old Lace II: The Final Conflict".
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh mighty Oracle, whose bigness embiggens even the littlest of us,
> please tell me...
>
> I have a nice pen, unlike every other nice pen I have ever owned,
> this one was completely free. It was not like I had to pay for
it,
> or that some one gave it to me as a gift. It just showed up on
my
> desk one day. The interesting thing about it, though, is it will
> not get lost. I cannot lose it. I dropped it in the parking
lot,
> and two days later it was right there, next to my car. I dropped
it
> inside my car, and a day later, it rolled out from under the seat.
> I even loaned it to a postal carrier, who lost it; it still came back
> to me! How can I get rid of this pen?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Well, my now-slightly-bigger but still puny supplicant, you've stumbled
} upon a Cursed -3 Pen of Returning. You'll need to find a fountain
(if
} it's a fountain pen) or a Blessed Hammer of Smashing To Bits otherwise.
} But don't be discouraged. I've consulted with my divine copyright
} lawyers, and have determined that the following Oracular Song Parody
} is just the ticket to keep your spirits up.
}
} The Pen Came Back
}
} Woe-ridden supplicant, problems of his own.
} He found a classy pen that wouldn't leave him alone.
} He tried and he tried to give the pen away.
} He dropped it underneath his car and drove to Tampa Bay...
}
} But the pen came back the very next day.
} Yes, the pen came back. They thought it was a goner,
} But the pen came back. It just wouldn't stay away.
}
} He gave it to the postman, with a money order.
} He told the man to take the pen and mail it 'cross the border.
} The postman died, and may God rest his soul,
} The coroner said "Cause of death: a little pen-sized hole."
}
} But the pen came back...
}
} The man around the corner said he'd melt the pen on sight.
} He reprogrammed his microwave, it took him half the night.
} He waited... and he waited... 'till the pen came rolling round
} And charred and melted pieces of the man was all they found...
}
} But the pen came back...
}
} [Oracular Disclaimer: The following verse is unmodified.]
}
} The H-bomb fell the very next day.
} The A-bomb fell in the very same way.
} Russia went! England went! And then the USA.
} The entire human race was left without a chance to pray...
}
} But the pen came back...
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh mighty Oracle, whose shoes never get gum on the soles, please
> tell me...
>
> You've got espresso, cappuccino, latte, and cafe' au lait, plus
> there's all those flavorings. What ever happened to a cup of coffee,
> with a little bit of milk?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Economics my friend economics. See here supplicant, here's a potato.
} Now, how much would you pay for this potato?
}
} > 20 cents I guess
}
} OK, I do a quick slice and fry up. Now it's a packet of crisps.
} How much would you pay for that very same potato?
}
} > 40 cents, maybe
}
} OK, now I slice it thicker, and make crinkle cut french fries.
} How much would you pay for that?
}
} > I dunno. 'bout a dollar maybe.
}
} See, the more it's processed, the more you pay for it. What do you
} expect commercial food suppliers with half a brain to do? Now, I cut
} it up a bit, shape it, roll it, there, a Toyota GT-One fully gassed
} up and ready to win Le Mans. That'd go for about a cool million.
}
} > From a potato? How did you do that?
}
} I *am* The Oracle you know. Now, do you understand the answer to
} your question?
}
} > Yes, by calling the coffee by strange names, and making increasingly
} > esoteric drinks from it, complete suckers like, oh er, erm, me,
} > pay increasing amounts for what is essentially the same thing.
}
} Correct. You owe The Oracle a Dune Buggy.
}
} > Can't I just give you a potato and you can make yourself one?
}
}
><><><><><>< ZOT ><><><><><><><
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Ohmigod! They killed Zadoc!
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Cut!
}
} Ok, That should be enough footage to convince the IRS that Zadoc's
} dead. Only 200,000 priests to go, and there'll be no more of that
} Employee Tax to pay.
}
} You owe the Internet Oracle a better way to revive decapitated priests.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> So, I'm driving to work this morning, listening to Morning Edition
(TM)
> on NPR, when they announce that you're a "Proud sponsor of National
> Public Radio." When did this happen? Did Carol finally pester
you
> enough? Don't get me wrong, NPR is a great institution, but I
never
> really thought it was your style.
>
> Anyway, thanks for keeping NPR on the air.
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Well, y'know, I had to clean things up a bit. They won't let you
} smoke those big stogies in the studio and cursing like a sailor is
} right out as well. They told me the two call girls that I promised
} could tag along had to stay outside the booth, but that's alright
} since it actually boosted their revenues.
}
} The gig came about when Cokie called me up on my cell phone last
} November and said, "Orrie, baby. My producers were wondering if you'd
} like to do a little stint on NPR. You'd just have to pop in once a week
} or so and tape a few segments for the week." I wasn't sure if that's
} what I wanted to do with my time, since I enjoy answering questions
} all day and night up on this hill. But when she mentioned the cash,
} I thought "what the heck...I can upgrade the server, get some of
} those Cuban stogies and still have enough left over for the girls.
} Carl had nothing to do with it. She just sits around on her fat ass
} all day watching Ricki Lake. Guess someone has to.
}
} Anyway, thanks for appreciating the segments. One day, I'll have
} to give 'em a listen myself. You know, for quality control and all.
} In the meantime, it's back to the daily grind of answering questions
} (and my fan mail).
}
} You owe the Oracle a bowl of M&M's, without the green ones.
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Oh great Oracle, I tried following your advise, but the plutonium
> sphere just won't fit. Should I try pounding it with a hammer or
> something?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} Supplicant, this is most distressing. I told you your daughter
wanted
} Pluto, AKA Pluto the dog. Definitely not Plutonium. However,
if
} you've already invested in the Plutonium sphere, you might as well use
} it - all kids love dazzling fireworks. You show much insight into
} physics by proposing to use M.C.Hammer, however, years of abuse have
} inured Plutonium to it. I suggest you use the infamous Spice Girls.
} Place the Plutonium sphere in a lead hermetically sealed container and
} divide it in two. Upon hearing the dastardly bad music, the Plutonium
} balls will scurry around in attempted escape, clash into each other
} forcibly and the rest is up to modern physics.
} This works marvellously well on human beings too, but the results are
} less spectacular.
}
} Happy Birthday!
}
} You owe the Oracle a rock band named 'The Plutonium Balls'.
--- 1272-06 3clc6 3.1 ----------------------------------------------------
Selected-By: Klone (aka Daniel V Klein) <dvk@lonewolf.com>
The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply.
Your question was:
> Please help me. I am one of the few people stuck at work today.
> Apparently, I didn't get the memo that managers were not to come in.
> Because no one is here, and our clients and vendors aren't in either,
> there is nothing going on. I am running out of things to do.
I've
> already wandered the corridors aimlessly, and intimidated the people
> who actually have things to do. I also been keeping an eye on
the
> coffee pot. I now turn to you, in a transparent attempt to amuse
> myself while I'm at the office. Can you suggest something to do
that
> looks vaguely worklike?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
} 1) Write "I will not show off" in Olde Englishe letters
on the
} chalkboard five hundred times.
} 2) Stare at butts, any butts, cigarette butts, rifle
butts,
} co-worker butts, dog butts, until you
get someone's attention.
} When someone gets up the courage to
ask why, tell them it
} was an assignment from senior management,
and since I've
} been on your board of directors for
five minutes with eight
} thousand put options, you won't be
lying.
} 3) Draw said butts in a collage and send them to me as
a PNG,
} just in case someone calls security
to verify your story.
} 4) Send an anonymous e-mail to the IRS telling them that
} they'll get this month's financial
statement next year.
} Include the same attachment you sent
to me as a PNG.
} 5) Remember that coffee pot you've been watching?
} Go out to the street. Ask for three
grams of something green and
} spicy. Buy it if it smells good and
sweet. Buy about 100mL of
} propylene glycol (vanilla flavouring).
Boil them together for
} about five minutes, but avoid giving
yourself away with the
} resultant odour. Spike the coffee with
the filtered part,
} and eat the rest.
} 6) Go to your boss's office (or appropriate his e-mail
account,
} whichever is either more prudent or
practical), and send an
} e-mail from it demanding that people
stop masturbating in
} the washrooms, and that if this practice
must continue at
} all, then it should be done in the
privacy of your office
} or cubicle.
} 7) Don't forget to take copies of all his voice messaging
for
} an assignment you will give to stoned
Enjineers.
} 8) Get the Geers to take his syllables out of context
to make the
} following messages:
} "Your ass? My office. Pronto!"
} "Tell me what to lick."
} "What KIND of cream would you LIKE
in your coffee?"
} 9) Hav them do the same kind of thing you did in #6,
except
} they'll randomly select only one of
the messages designed
} in #8. They can also pick members of
senior management to...
} Tell them that they're "modulating
senior management".
} That'll make sense when they're stoned.
} 10) Buy The Internet Oracle five hundred call-options
} in your public relations contractor.