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Internet Oracularities #1015

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Internet Oracularities #1015    (91 votes, 3.2 mean)
Compiled-By: Steve Kinzler <kinzler@cs.indiana.edu>
Date: Tue, 5 May 1998 07:27:33 -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:
   1015
   2 1 3 4 3   5 3 3 4 1

1015  91 votes ckwi9 7helw 9vtg6 68ovm bnplb 4boso 77nsq ckAh6 8rtk7 8gykd
1015  3.2 mean  2.9   3.6   2.8   3.6   3.0   3.6   3.6   2.8   2.9   3.2


1015-01    (ckwi9 dist, 2.9 mean)
Selected-By: "Carole S. Fungaroli" <fungaroc@gusun.georgetown.edu>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Okay, so the astronomers have decided that asteroid isn't going to hit
> the earth in 40 years, after all.  But I'm still curious... what if it
> did?
>
> According to the military, we'd have ample time to prepare for this
> event if it did happen, and we could lob a few nukes at the asteroid to
> blow it up if necessary.  This brings to mind an interesting question.
> Which would be worse:  a strike by a single enormous mile-wide
> asteroid, or thousands of smaller strikes by little pieces adding up to
> the same mass? What would be the effect in each case?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Only you can answer this question, young apprentice.  However here's a
} comparison for you to try and decide from.
}
} Would you rather have Rush Limbaugh fall on top of you, or bits and
} pieces of him falling all over town?
}
} You owe the Oracle some earplugs and a barf bag.


1015-02    (7helw dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: "Carole S. Fungaroli" <fungaroc@gusun.georgetown.edu>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Son, can you play me a memory? I'm not really sure how it goes... but
> it's sad, and it's sweet, and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger
> man's clothes.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Introducing... Orrie Joel: Greatest Hits
}
} 1. Woodchuck Man
} 2. Unix State of Mind
} 2. Movin' out (Oracle's song)
} 3. He's always just Zadoc to me
} 4. You may be right
} 5. It's still x86 to me
} 6. Orrietown
} 7. The 'net is stil young
}
} WOODCHUCK MAN
}
} It's nine o'clock on a Saturday,
} the techies are all at their screens.
} There's a BOFH in Oklahoma
} just fed up with dumb users he's seen.
}
} He says "O. will you give me an askme,
} I don't really care what is says.
} Cause I'll answer it quick, parody some new flick,
} or maybe I'll write in-jokes for days."
}
} Give us a zot, your're the Woodchuck Man,
} give us a zot tonight.
} Well we're all in the mood for some ashes,
} and you've got us feeling alright.
}
} Now Zadoc the priest is a slave of mine,
} he filters the junk for free.
} And well he is so humble, but then he does bumble,
} and he's insufficient for me.
}
} He says "Master please don't go and zot poor me,"
} as a smile runs away from his face.
} "Cause I'm sure that I could be just wonderful,
} if you would just settle for Mace."
}
} Give us a zot, etc.
}
} Now Paul is a fighting-fish enthusiast,
} who managed to make time for a wife.
} And he's talking with Michael, who copied Dave's cycle,
} and probably got flamed for life.
}
} And the Hotmailer's sending null questions,
} as the Juno guy's draining the queue.
} Yes they're sharing a thing they call free-mail,
} but it's better than them spamming you.
}
} Give us a zot, etc.
}
} It's a pretty good queue for a Saturday,
} and Steve Kinzler gives me a smile.
} Cause he knows that it's me they've been coming to see,
} to try to be funny a while.
}
} And the askmes sound like rhod cascades,
} and the tellmes smell like old food.
} And they type on those keys, writing "Oracle please,
} tell me whether a woodchuck chucks wood."
}
} Give us a zot, etc.
}
} UNIX STATE OF MIND
}
} Some folks like to get away
} Take a holiday from the real world
} Start a game from MS Fun Pack
} or from Maxis Gold
} But I'm taking my reader
} down the comp.linux line
} I'm in a Unix state of mind.
}
} I've seen all the Valley stars
} With their fancy cars and their new software
} Been up in Redmond
} with the millionaires.
} But I know what I'm needing
} And I want that command-line
} I'm in a Unix state of mind.
}
} It was so easy living day by day
} Out of touch with the ~ and #
} But now I need a little give and take
} The ls *, the ^G sound
}
} It comes down to reality
} And it's fine with me cause I've let it slide
} I don't care if it's r.h.f. or alt.other.side
} I don't have any GUIs
} I've left them all behind
} I'm in a Unix state of mind.
}
} I'm just taking my reader
} down the comp.linux line
} Cause I'm in a Unix state of mind.
}
} MOVIN' OUT (ORACLE'S SONG)
}
} Oracle works at a Q&A store,
} spending his payments on hi-fi.
} Mama Leone left a note on the door,
} she said "Sonny move out back to Delphi."
} Thinkin' too hard can give you a brain attack
} you oughta know by now.
} Who needs a cult of geek maniacs,
} is that what you get for your wisdom.
}
} It seems such a waste of brain
} If that's what it's all about.
} If that's movin' up then I'm movin' out.
}
} Cavemen Thag and Og are goin' out to hunt,
} at night they become incarnations.
} They leave their spiky clubs and stop trying to bunt,
} and try to solve techies' frustrations.
} They're tradin' in their hides for stuff from Saks
} you oughta know by now.
} And if they can't dress well with hairy backs,
} at least they can make a sensation.
}
} It seems such a waste of brain
} If that's what it's all about.
} If that's movin' up then I'm movin' out.
}
} You should never argue with a crazy mind
} you oughta know by now.
} You can bore priests to death with all sorts of grime,
} is that what you get for your wisdom.
}
} It seems such a waste of brain
} If that's what it's all about.
} If that's movin' up then I'm movin' out.
}
} HE'S ALWAYS JUST ZADOC
}
} He get's killed by a smile
} You can wound him with eyes
} You can make him believe just about any lies
} And he only can see what you want to reveal
} He's as dumb as a child
} But he's always just Zadoc to me.
}
} He's always falling in love
} You can take him or leave him
} He can ask for the truth
} And he'll always believe you
} You can take what he gives you, it'll always be free
} He's trusting with thieves
} But he's always just Zadoc to me.
}
} Oh- he'll take care of you well
} He can wait if you want
} He's way behind the times
} Oh- and he never gives out
} and he always gives in
} never makes up his mind.
}
} You can promise him more
} than the Garden of Eden
} Then you carelessly zot him and laugh while while he's heeding
} He's the best and the wost
} That I ever have seen
} But I blame it on him
} Cause he's always just Zadoc to me.
}
} Oh- he'll take care of you well
} He can wait if you want
} He's way behind the times
} Oh- and he never gives out
} and he always gives in
} never makes up his mind.
}
} You can to him be kind
} And then suddenly cruel
} And he always just takes it
} He's everyone's fool
} And you can't be convicted
} he has no degree
} And the most he will do
} Is be shadowy with you
} But he's always just Zadoc to me.
}
} YOU MAY BE RIGHT
}
} Friday night I brought your site down
} Saturday I put it back round
} Sunday came, I trashed it out again
} I was only having fun
} Wasn't hurting anyone
} And your site was interesting for a change
}
} I've been stranded on the Fidonet
} I've downloaded virus applets
} Even run an ActiveX control unsigned
} And you told me not to try
} But my system didn't fry
} So you said that only proves that I'm offline
}
} You may be right
} I may be hacking
} But it just may be a hacker that you're looking for
} Turn off the logs
} Don't try to save me
} You may be wrong for all I know
} But you may be right
}
} Remeber how I found you there
} Alone and playing Solitaire
} I hacked into playboy and you smiled
} You were lonely for a friend
} I said take me as I am
} Cause you might enjoy some hacking for a while
}
} Now think of all the years you tried to
} Find something to satisfy you
} I may be a hacker like you say
} If I'm hacking than it's true
} That it's all because of you
} And you wouldn't want me any other way
}
} You may be right
} I may be hacking
} But it just may be a hacker that you're looking for
} It's too late to fight
} It's too late to change me
} You may be wrong for all I know but you may be right
}
} You may be right
} I may be hacking
} But it just may be a hacker that you're looking for
} Turn off the logs
} Don't try to save me
} You may be wrong for all I know
} But you may be right
} You may be wrong but you may be right
} You may be wrong but you may be right
}
} IT'S STILL x86 TO ME
}
} What's the matter with the chip I'm using
} "Can't you tell that it's not pipelined"
} Maybe I should buy an 8087
} "Welcome back to the days offline.
}
} Where have you been hiding out lately honey?
} Your system can't crawl 'til you spend a lot of money."
} Everybody's talkin' 'bout the new chip
} Funny but it's still 86 to me
}
} What's the matter with the RAM I'm using?
} "Can't you tell that it's FPM."
} Maybe I should get an ISA RAM-card?
} "Are you gonna use an MFM?
} Nowadays you can't be too buckaroo
} You're best bet's a factory Pentium II."
} Hot RISC, Cool CISC, BIOS patch on old disks,
} it's still 86 to me.
}
} Oh it doesn't matter what they say in the papers
} Cause it's always been the same old scene.
} There's a new chip on deck
} But you can't get the specs from a story in a magazine...
} Aimed at a counter of beans
}
} How about an SL notebook
} with a cadmium batt'ry pack?
} "Well you could really use a good old Kaypro
} if it didn't dislocate your back.
} Don't waste your money on a fast compiler,
} you'll get more mileage from a network filer."
} SX, DX, Linux, Cyrix,
} It's still 86 to me.
}
} What's the matter with a BBS?
} "Don't you know that that's out of touch?"
} Should I get a looped T3 connection?
} "If you do then you've got too much.
} Don't you know about the new fashion, honey?
} All you need is time and twenty bucks of money."
} Two eighty, Three eighty, Four eighty, Pentium,
} It's still 86 to me.
}
} Everybody's talkin' 'bout the new chip
} Funny, but it's still 86 to me.
}
} ORRIETOWN
}
} Well we're living here in Orrietown
} And there closing all the question queues down
} Out in Bloomington they're killing time
} Reading rhod
} Writing dumb sod
}
} Well our fathers wrote the Oracle scripts
} Spent their weekends writing funny tips
} Met our mothers on the IRC
} Asked them to chat
} Chatted with glee
}
} And we're living here in Orrietown
} But the humor-sense was handed down
} And it's getting very hard to stay
}
} Well we're waiting here in Orrietown
} For the Oracle that we never found.
} For the promises the helpfile gave
} If we wrote well,
} if we behaved.
}
} So the old digests hang on the wall
} But they never really helped us at all
} No they never taught us what was real
} Juno free-mail,
} queue-draining zeal.
}
} And we're waiting here in Orrietown
} But they've taken all the fun from the ground
} And the old-timers crawled away
}
} Every newbie had a pretty good shot
} To get at least as far as Paul Kelly got
} But something happened on the way to that place
} They threw an April Fool's digest in our face
}
} Well I'm living here in Orrietown
} And it's hard to keep a good man down
} But I won't be answering today
} And we're living here in Orrietown.
}
} THE 'NET IS STILL YOUNG
}
} I'm young enough to see the geeky nerd that I used to be
} But I'm old enough to say I got a good look at the other side
} I know I've got to work real hard maybe even for the rest of my life
} Now I just want to take what I can get right now
}
} While the 'net is still young
} I want to keep doing askmes
} While the 'net is still young
}
} I'd like to settle down
} Get a homepage
} Maybe even mod a newsgroup some day
} I can see the time when I'm only gonna have one e-mail
} No more separations
} When you have to dial in over a noisy line
} Baby I've decided that ain't what this life is all about
}
} Oh
} While the 'net is still young
} While the 'net is still young
} I want to try to make the world brand new
} While the 'net is still young
}
} IRC use to be the only thing I
} ever gave a darn about
} There was something that was missing
} but I never used to wonder why
} Now I know Orrie's the one I need
} to make things right again
} And I may lose the battle
} But he's giving me the will to try
}
} Oh
} While the 'net is still young
} Because the 'net is still young
} I've got a lot of catching up I've got to do
} While the 'net is still young
} While the 'net is still young
} I want to try to make the world brand new
} While the 'net is still young
}
} You owe the Oracle a recording of the above songs. The incarnation owes
} you his eternal gratitude for allowing him to do something he's wanted
} to do ever since he started incarnating.


1015-03    (9vtg6 dist, 2.8 mean)
Selected-By: "Alyce Wilson" <berlin63@hotmail.com>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Wal, howdy, there Orrie!  This here's Clem agin, you know, from
> Blatt's Half Apple, Montana.  Aw, git on now, y'all remember me.
> Dahgest 989, numero 6, compadre!  Shore, now y'all know!
>
> Say, I need to thank'y fer lettin' me parley with thet there Zadoc
> feller.  He done tole me all about what's a Eye Ess Pee an' what's
> a E-Mayul Server.  I swear I never heard s'much Popcorn Three an'
> Ess Em Toidy Paper an' whutnot!  I tell you whut -- y'all better hang
> on to thet boy.  He's sharper 'n sittin' on a yucca!  Hee hee!
>
> Now, Orrie, we'n's good friends an' all, but I gotta tell ya I weren't
> so impressed with thet there Guido dude.  He came a-drivin' up in
> thet white Lincoln an' was spoutin' off lak a geyser with a goiter
> 'bout th' Oracle sendin' him down this-a-way to teach us somethin'.
> I cain't tell y'all what it was he was wantin' ta teach, 'cause
> he commenced a-shootin' an' a-hollerin' an askin' 'bout them boys
> from the tele-o-phone comp'ny.  Wal, sir, half o' Blatt's Half Apple
> up 'n shot him daid afore he could learn us a dang thang.  I could
> see plain as a pinto's pimple thet boy ain't never pulled iron on a
> Montana meter maid afore.
>
> Anyhoo, Orrie, I's jest writin' to tell y'all we's got our newfangled
> tele-o-phone lines workin' now!  With all that Innernet preachin'
> ole Zadoc done fer us, y'all kin expeck a heap o' E-Mayul from us'n's
> real soon now!  Y'all take care, now, an' watch out fer them brambles
> in yer britches!
>
> Clem

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Tsk, tsk, tsk. Clem, Clem, Clem, when *will* you ever learn what
} omniscient means?  Putting on a Northern accent and getting all
} lah-de-dah sprinkling those foreign words in your conversation does
} not delude Me and you haven't fooled anyone else either.
}
} Your folks, your aunts and uncles (in your case that's one and the
} same) are desparate for you to come home now! Your sister and your
} wife, BobbyLou, is getting near her time and is sick with worry ever
} since you hitched up the mule wagon and took off down the Information
} Highway, although everyone is grateful to learn what the I in I-95
} stands for.
}
} Your Daddy and Uncle Floyd (ditto. one and the same) is busier than a
} one-armed grave digger after a train wreck. He hardly has time to spend
} more than half a day watching the rust form on the pitchfork tines.
} It was not right for you to up and take off right at bottling time,
} leaving him to carry the orders down to the tree at midnight all
} by himself.
}
} But there are no hard feelings, Clem. Your parents, and grandparents,
} and brothers and sisters, and aunts and uncles and, neices and nephews,
} and first, second, third and fourth cousins (in your case that would
} be the four people in your nuclear family, it is *not* numbers that
} count) are anxious to have you home where you belong.
}
} Your family understands your fascination with electronics and they
} got it straight from Miss LizaMae at the post office that EmmaJune
} at the diner heard her cousin BillyBobBob tell JoeMerle from Waycross
} that his cousin SallyPearl read in a magazine all about the Internet.
} So you see, Clem, people are doing all they can to understand you
} and learn to `speak your language.'
}
} Once you get home, you can go straight down to the telegraph office
} where BerthaSam has a catalog you can look in for a treadle computer
} (like AuntieMama's sewing machine that goes so fast she can whip up a
} flour sack frock in less time than it takes to reload a wad of chew
} at a spitting contest) to hitch up to the internet and send all the
} email you want.
}
} So be reasonable now, Clem, and put down the meter-maid, hitch up
} the mules and get your butt out of Blatt's Half Apple tonight.
}
} You owe the Oracle a quart jar of the stuff that looks like water
} and kicks like a mule.


1015-04    (68ovm dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: Darkmage <DAVIS@wehi.edu.au>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Oh Wondrous Oracle, whose Temple is always immaculate, please tell me
> why my house pets always rush to the impossible-to-clean living room
> carpet to be sick, instead of the easy-to-clean bathroom floor?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Because they are mad at humans for crapping in the best
} water source in the house.
}
} You owe the Oracle a relative.


1015-05    (bnplb dist, 3.0 mean)
Selected-By: Mark Lawrence <lawrence.4@osu.edu>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Oh most wise and wonderful Oracle,
> when your Q is full does it make you have to P?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh supplicant - how little you understand of the ways of
} minor deities. I suppose I'd better show you the corporate
} video.
}
} Now, where did I put that Super-8 projector...Ah yes.
}
} VOICE OVER: Hi, my name is Troy Macluer - you probably know
}        me from such movies as "Welcome to River Styx - a new
}        planned community for retired Bulk Emailers" and "The
}        History of SPAM(tm)".
}
}        We here are ORACULAR ENTERPRISES INC feel it is
}        important that our customers get to know the processes
}        involved in getting our product to your doorstep in a
}        timely manner whilst not compromising the high quality
}        that you have come to expect. Let me lead you through
}        our production process here at the Temple.
}
} SCENE: The lobby of a large White Temple somewhere in Indiana.
}        Large bronze statues of the digested adorn the lobby -
}        giant fresco's depict heroic battles with W**dch*cks
}        and Centaurs. A small collection of framed greasy
}        smudges dating from the time of the SPAM wars adorns
}        a niche to one side.
}
}        A large number of bored-looking supplicants are standing
}        in line. There is audible muttering - one or two are
}        practicing their grovels - but most are simply clutching
}        their term papers, Windoze operating system manuals,
}        W**dch*cks and remedial writing skills course materials.
}
} LONG, SLOW PAN - FOLLOWING THE LINE OF SUPPLICANTS OUT THE DOOR:
}        After the inevitable zig-zag of crowd-control barriers,
}        the line of supplicants stretches for over a mile out
}        across the fields of rural Indiana.
}
}        At the end of the line there are a number of large
}        sewer pipes that terminate here. Some are labelled
}        @AOL.COM, others @HOTMAIL. All are spewing forth
}        the usual things that sewer pipes spew - and in
}        amongst all the resulting filth (of which there is
}        a great quantity) paddles the occasional bedraggled
}        supplicant. As each struggles free of the oderous
}        substances, they stagger to the end of that L-O-N-G line.
}
}        It is with an odd feeling of deja-vue that you imagine
}        some supplicants are in the queue several times.
}
} CUT TO THE BACK OF THE TEMPLE:
}        In a cool, fragrant garden at the rear of the temple,
}        surrounded by walls of purest Italian marble, sit a
}        handful of frazzled individuals. Each is frantically
}        typing at an ancient punched-card machine.
}
}        Littering the surroundings are dozens of old Beatles
}        song books, Gilbert and Sullivan Opera scores, works of
}        classic childrens poetry, dog-eared rhyming dictionaries,
}        StarTrek scripts and such. Several Thesaurii are munching
}        contentedly at the grass of the handsomly manicured lawns.
}
}        Several cavemen and a couple of scantily clad ladies
}        look on - they make lots of sterotyped comments but
}        are noticably NOT HELPING.
}
}        The Incarnations (for that they are) periodically leap
}        from their battered IBM 029's and run over to an ornate
}        throne of purest Kryptonite at which is seated a wizened
}        old man in a rather ill fitting toga. He speaks a few words
}        and a somewhat dishevelled individual who slowly returns
}        to his work - once again typing furiously. Every now and again
}        a deafening ZOT rings out and a small mushroom cloud climbs
}        high and drifts languidly above the towering rooftops of the
}        pristine temple.
}
}        As each pink punched card drops from the end of a machine,
}        a purest white dove swoops from the delicately flowered
}        peach trees just inside the garden, grasps the card
}        in it's beak and flies off into the distance.
}
}        Periodically, an exhausted Incarnation drops dead.
}
}        Few new Incarnations appear.
}
} CUT TO ANOTHER PALACE SEVERAL MILES AWAY:
}        Several people in priestly robes are standing in
}        another equally immaculate garden. The delicate Italian
}        marble sculptures are somewhat dwarfed by the machine
}        gun towers. The floodlights from the guard positions
}        are dazzling the normally docile Thesaurii. The mine
}        field is impressive - although the periodic explosions
}        coming from it do seem to disturb the rabid dogs in the
}        courtyard and the pirahna in the moat.
}
}        Each priest appears to be armed with a pump-action
}        12 gauge. Olive drab ammunition boxes are stacked in great
}        numbers against the delicately flowered Peach trees.
}
}        Suddenly a beautiful pure white dove flutters overhead.
}        Shots ring out - a very dead (and somewhat blackened)
}        dove drops from the sky. It lands with a sickening
}        *SPLOT* and is immediately ripped to shreds by a bunch
}        of Wolves that had been lurking in the artistically
}        clipped topiary Woodchucks.
}
}        A pink card punched with 12 rows and 80 columns of
}        tiny square holes flutters gently to the ground
}        some seconds later.
}
}        One of the priests is collecting the cards, he is
}        evidently reading the holes by touch alone - either
}        that or the thick blindfold is a fake. As each card
}        is read, the priest grimaces and rips the card to
}        shreds. Once in a great while, the priest giggles -
}        and rips the card to shreds anyway.
}
}        The pile of shredded cards grows ever higher - the
}        line of bright eyed supplicants grows ever longer.
}        The Incarnations wish they understood how the 'program
}        drum' worked.
}
}        The wizened old man in the ill-fitting toga could
}        care less.
}
} FADE TO BLACK - NO CREDITS.
}
} You owe the Oracle a basketful of delicately fragrent
} 'ASKME's on paper tape and some way to get dove poop
} off Italian Marble statuary.


1015-06    (4boso dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: Mark Lawrence <lawrence.4@osu.edu>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow
> that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys
> deranged, models deposed and dry cleaners depressed?  Laundry workers
> could decrease, eventually becoming depressed and depleted!  Even more,
> bedmakers will be debunked, baseball players will be debased,
> landscapers will be deflowered, bulldozer operators will be degraded,
> organ donors will be delivered, software engineers will be detested,
> the BVD company will be debriefed, and even musical composers will
> eventually decompose.  On a more positive note though, perhaps we can
> hope politicians will be devoted.
>
> What can the Internet Oracle be?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}   Described.
}
}   You owe The Oracle a lengthy grovel.


1015-07    (77nsq dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: Rich McGee <rmcgee@wiley.csusb.edu>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> DIEDIE      DIEDIEDIE   DIEDIEDIE   DIE
> DIE   DIE      DIE      DIE         DIE
> DIE   DIE      DIE      DIE         DIE
> DIE   DIE      DIE      DIEDIE      DIE
> DIE   DIE      DIE      DIE         DIE
> DIE   DIE      DIE      DIE
> DIEDIE      DIEDIEDIE   DIEDIEDIE   DIE

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}       Fine!  Here!
}
}                   ____________
}                  / o         /|
}                 /    o      / |
}                /       o   /  |
}               /___________/   |
}              |            | o |
}              |  o         |   /
}              |            |  /
}              |         o  | /
}              |____________|/


1015-08    (ckAh6 dist, 2.8 mean)
Selected-By: Christophe <xof@chanticleer.com>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Tell me, o Oracle,
>
> Would you, if you were I?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} If I were I, I would, without even thinking about it.
}
} If I were II, I'd think about it briefly, then I would.
}
} If I were III, I would, unless told not to.
}
} If I were IV, I would, unless I got caught.
}
} If I were V, I would, if I didn't think I'd get caught.
}
} But as it is, I already have, so it's old hat.


1015-09    (8rtk7 dist, 2.9 mean)
Selected-By: Christophe <xof@chanticleer.com>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Oh great Oracle, who always knows where the remote is.
>
> What would a {Highlander, Babylon 5, Millenium} crossover look like?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} [ Zadoc, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve follows the
}   Oracle out into the woods. Zadoc is carrying a shovel. The Oracle
}   is carrying a heavy, blued .45 semi-auto pistol. ]
}
} Oracle: This looks like a good spot. Dig worm!
}
} [ Oracle sits on a fallen log, produces a sandwich from the folds of
}   his robes. Zadoc digs silently. The Oracle eats. ]
}
} Oracle: Okay, that's deep enough.
}
} [ Oracle stands and racks a round into the chamber of the handgun. ]
}
} Zadoc: Do we gotta do this?
}
} Oracle: You dare question me speck!? The question is old and lame.
}       It will be happier in the next world.
}
} [ Zadoc gets out of the hole and drops the damn crossover question in
}   the hole. The Oracle takes aim... ]
}
} KABLOOOOOOOOM!
}
} [ The echo of the shot rings from tree to tree... an odd tune is
}   heard.  The wind picks up. Lighting cracks. The Oracle wanders off,
}   leaving Zadoc to bury the damn crossover question. ]
}
} Zadoc: Poor little question, it never meant no one no harm...!!!!
}
} [ Zadoc leaps from the grave in horror! The question, despite a direct
}   hit with a .45 slug is not dead! ]
}
} Zadoc: How, how can it be!?
}
} [ A stranger looking all the world like a wannabe movie-mogul underling
}   steps from the woods. He is wearing a cape. In his hand is a sword. ]
}
} Stranger: Ah laddie, to kill that question you need a sword like this...
}
} [ A morose man with face like sandpaper peppered with buckshot wearing
}   one of the only two jackets he has ever owned steps from the dark
}   shadows.  His voice so low, his delivery so feeble it is difficult to
}   figure if he is speaking or going over his lines, unaware that he is
}   speaking aloud. ]
}
} Morose Dude: <mumble> yerkillingdaysareoveritisallover <mumble>
}
} Stranger and Zadoc: Huh?
}
} Morose Dude: <mumble> intheendtherecanbebutonerightmclaud <mumble>
}
} Stranger and Zadoc: Huh?
}
} [ A hazy apparition appears among them, it looks kinda like the
}   outlines of three humans in tights ]
}
} Morose Dude: <mumble> ihadfiguredthattheyshowupnowforthefun <mumble>
}
} Stranger and Zadoc: Huh?
}
} Oracle { from afar }: Zadoc, get your butt outta there now. I got the
}        place surrounded! I'm sending in Og with a sword, a speech
}        therapist and the Ghost of Philp K. Dick to try and teach them
}        ALL what Science Fiction really is... it's going to get ugly.
}
} Morose Dude: <mumble> holymotherofgodthisisnotgoodnotgood <mumble>
}
} You owe the Oracle a self-imposed limit of 73,000 on the number of
} times you re-submit a question.


1015-10    (8gykd dist, 3.2 mean)
Selected-By: Otis Viles <cierhart@ic.net>

The Internet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was:

> Who ist hefa I rest of the mall?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Anagrams, huh?
}
} > Who is the fairest of them all?
}
} Ted Koppel. Of course if you're really in a bind, you'd be better off
} with Larry King, but if fairness is what you're looking for, go with
} Ted.
}
} > Wham is to Fell; Heather is to f?
}
} She sure is. Next time you see her, bring your catcher's mask. Trust
} me.
}
} > Is the farm of Wall the holiest?
}
} Er, no, actually, it's not. The holiest farm is that of Ham,
} who irrigates his fields with holy water, and sells his wheat
} exclusively to the Vatican for use in communion wafers.
}
} > How soft is he, the mallet fair?
}
} Softer than a blush upon a may-rose,
} Gentler than a true-love's kiss
} Thy mallet is all thou needst
} If softness be thy wish
}
} You owe the Oracle an interview on Nightline, a date with Heather,
} Ham's own rye, and a sonnet.


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