Goto:

1066, 1066-01, 1066-02, 1066-03, 1066-04, 1066-05, 1066-06, 1066-07, 1066-08, 1066-09, 1066-10

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

>         The storm abated as quickly as it came. Clouds >  above parted and, in no time at all, the sun shone through >  on a beautiful day, almost as if the storm had never >  occurred. Ahead, Xena saw a crowded beach, the people >  swarming the teeming water were almost naked. >          Gabrielle sidled up next to her. >          "The crew wants to land here, to replenish supplies." >          "We're miles from Gathar," Xena replied. "We must >  continue if we are to reach our destination before Herardus' >  coronation." >          "I can only speak for myself," an older man in a >  white tunic said, approaching Xena from behind. "But I >  believe that if we starve to death before we reach our >  destination, then our persistence will be in vain." Xena >  glared sharply at the man. "And I would suggest stopping to >  replenish our food supplies before the crew start eyeing that >  horse of yours." >          At such a brutal mention of Argo, Xena bristled. But, >  she told herself, the man had a point. >          "Very well. We land for tonight only. Tomorrow we >  leave for Gathar." > >          The sound of sand grinding under the keel sent the >  crew into a frenzy. The rowing team reversed their paddling, >  so as not to set the ship too firmly on the shore, lest they >  should be trapped by hostile natives. >          "Hostile natives indeed," Xena thought to herself. >  The people on land had been pointing and talking about their >  ship long before they beached, but so far no attempt at >  preparing defenses was evident. These people were either >  idiots or harbored extreme magic. >          "They might as well be wearing nothing," Xena heard >  Gabrielle whisper to herself. It was the truth. Minuscule >  pieces of brightly colored cloth covered the bare essentials >  of these natives. Most lounged about on the sand, while >  others played various games with balls and throwing discs. >          As she prepared to disembark, Xena heard an angry >  buzzing in the water, like a giant insect. Turning with her >  hand on her chakram, Xena crouched low for attack. Instead >  of a giant insect, however, she saw a man riding across the >  water on some sort of shining chariot. >          "Excuse me!" the man shouted. "Hey! You can't land >  here! This is a public beach." The man was as skimpily clad >  as the others, but Xena noticed an official seal on his bright >  red loin cloth. >          "My crew seeks to replenish our supplies. We wish to >  stay but one night, we will depart in the morning." >          "He said you can't bring a ship onto a public beach, >  lady." This new-comer was a nubian who approached from the >  shore. Xena noticed that her clothing was red as well, and >  also bore an official seal identical to that of the man. Xena >  smiled as she took in the site of this warrioress, who was a >  fabulous figure, clearly meant for battle. >          Leaping to the shore, Xena put her chakram away and >  extended a hand in greeting to the woman. >          "I am Xena, from..." >          "I don't care who you are, lady. You can't land your >  boat here, now get going." >          "Jordan, don't be rude," the man said, now on land. >  "I'm Hobie. This is Jordan. We really don't want to be rude, >  but you really can't have your boat here. There's a dock just >  a few miles north of here where you can stow for the night." >  He smiled, putting his hand on Xena's shoulder. >          Without thinking, Xena grabbed his wrist with her >  left hand and pulled him toward her. At the same time, she >  snaked her leg around his and pulled it out from under him. >  The action sent him sprawling on the ground, where he ended up >  looking up at her with his arm twisted almost completely >  around. >          "No man touches Xena, warrior princess, without..." >          Her breath was suddenly cut off as the nubian wrapped >  her arm around Xena's throat. A quick elbow to the ribs and >  the two were apart, each spinning to meet the other's next >  attack. Xena heard the sounds of the crew disembarking behind >  her, while at the same time more red-clads were moving down >  the beach toward them. >          The nubian lunged at Xena. Deftly pulling her chakram >  free, she sliced upward to defend against the attack. The woman, >  armorless, dropped to the ground. >          "Oh my god!" the man said, rising to his feet and >  rushing to his comrade. >          "Oh no!" Shouted a buxom blonde in a red outfit. "She >  killed Jordan! Quick! Lani! April! Go get Mitch!" >          "To the ship!" Xena ordered. "To the ship!" > >          As they cleared the beach, Xena saw a strange site. More >  red-clads arrived, and they were not alone. Men and woman in >  strange horseless carriages with blinking blue and red lights >  also flooded the beach. >          "I'll be thankful when we reach Gathar," Gabrielle said >  softly, placing her hand on Xena's shoulder. >          "As will I," she replied, taking the bard's hand in >  hers. "As will I."

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} No, no, no, no, no. } } I REFUSE to allow my brain to rot on drivel like this.  I absolutely } positively refuse!  I don't care what geas I'm under, this is cruel and } unusual punishment.  You hear me?  I won't do it!  I won't!  I -- } } *ZOT* } } You owe the Oracle a television series concept that doesn't rely on bad } scripting, worse acting, appalling special effects and lots of skin and } muscle tone to carry ratings.  Don't complain; YOU started it!

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

> Oh most awesome and powerful Oracle, who instantly adds a breath of > fresh air into any stuffy room, > > I know Zadoc has been generally described as a lowly, scum-sucking > worm, but this doesn't really tell me anything about his appearance. > I've always pictured him as a cross between Janet Reno and Jim > Carrey, but I can never be sure.  Please enlighten me, oh great > one...What, exactly, does Zadoc look like?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Have you ever seen Mr. Potato Head after the potato and all the pieces } have been accidentally run over with a lawn mower and then reassembled } haphazardly with great quantities of gooey epoxy? } } Well with Zadoc, it wasn't an accident. } } You owe the Oracle something nicer to look at...I just had lunch, you } know.

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

> Oh mighty and wonderful Oracle, The great one who would > never shoot a picture with the lens cap on, who is the fire > at the end of my cigarette, who would never own a sub-standard > computer system, ... > > I just bought a new camera.  Will the manufacturer's warranty > cover if I drop it down a flight of stairs?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Well, supplicant, this doesn't sound like a hypothetical situation. I } doubt that the manufacturer will cover this loss, so instead I believe } you should be asking, "How can I blame someone else for my camera being } broken and sue them for all they're worth?" } } Glad you asked, supplicant. Assuming that you live in America, Land of } Litigation, it's a very easy matter. Find some large corporate } headquarters with ice on the sidewalks (I would suggest looking outside } of Silicon Valley). Be sure you are carrying the following items: }       1 camera (already broken, I assume?) }       1 very hot cup of McDonalds coffee }       1 undercooked Jack-In-The-Box hamburger }       1 pack of cigarettes (any brand) }       1 copy of Windows 98 with Microsoft's Java interpreter } Wait until no-one is looking, then fall down and cry out in a loud } voice, "HELP! I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP!" Wait for lawyers to } appear. Settle out of court and buy yourself a new camera. Use what's } left over to buy a small Caribbean island. } } You owe the Oracle a VISA Gold Card with extended warranty protection, } and a Caribbean cruise vacation.

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

> Oh mighty oracle; > > tell me > > what are lawyers good for?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}         Tempted as I am to respond by including a recipe for my famous } "Counselor Stew" (slow cooked, feeds 20 people, great for large family } meals), I must concede the usefulness of lawyers.  Consider this } example. } }         You are driving down the highway.  Your right front tire fails, } causing you to crash into a bridge abutment at upwards of 45 mph.  Here } are the people working on your behalf. } } Nebraska State Highway Patrol: Gives you a $50 ticket for "failure to }       control vehicle." } } Nebraska State Department of Transportation: Adds you to their }       stastistics. Labels your accident "speed related" and uses }       statistics to justify more speed enforcement. } } St. Bartholomew Medical Center: Tells you that your T4 spinal fracture }       will leave you paraplegic.  Calls in a Psychiatry consult because }       you appear to be depressed. } } D&G Towing: Charges $50 for towing and $100 for storage of your car, }       which was scraped off the bridge abutment. } } Mutual of Nebraska Insurance: Decides your three your old vehicle, }       after mileage and wear and tear, is worth $4500.  Suggests }       arbitration by a board sanctioned by the insurance industry when }       you suggest that this is highway robbery. } } Firestone Tire Service Center: Tells you they can't be held responsible }       for defective tires, or for improper mounting, since the mounting }       of your new tires was done a month before the accident.  The }       service manager twists the knife by adding that after three days, }       they don't even take responsibility if you lose a hubcap. } } Good Year Tire Company: Does not directly respond to your inquiries, }       but does send you a product brochure telling you how their tires }       are engineered for superior wear, handling, and wet weather }       traction characteristics. } } Ernest, Belt, Holley, and Andrews, Attorneys at Law: Engage all of the }       aforementioned parties in a lawsuit to make you and themselves }       independently wealthy. } } Now which of these people do you want working for you? } } You owe the Oracle a nice percentage.

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

> Hey incarnation! I've looked over the digests, I've looked over > the voting records, and the answer is obvious. The quality of the > question has nothing to do with the quality of the oracularity. > It's the incarnation that makes, or fails to make, an Oracularity. > So, it doesn't matter what I write here, it's all up to you.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Wow, are YOU a loser.

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

> Omniscient Oracle, who knows all things without uncertainty, > > What is the current position and momentum of Professor Heisenberg?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Currently the said gentleman is playing dice with God.

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

> Oh Oracle most wise, whose house has millions upon millions of the > most luxurious windows, help me with this question. I recently bought > Windows 98, since my house needs repair after a really bad storm. > However, when I opened the box, there weren't 98 windows, but some > shiny coaster or something. Can your infinite wisdom please help?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} That's simple, the version of Windows(R) you bought isn't compatible } with your house. You need to upgrade to Microsoft(TM) House(R) in } order to install the new Windows(R). Here, I'll connect you with the } Microsoft(TM) tech support line so you can talk about upgrading your } house... } } *ring* *ring* } } "Hello, welcome to the Microsoft support service. Like all of the } advanced systems here, this service is run by the latest version } of Windows NT, which may be purchased for an incredibly low price } of just $999.95..." } } "...If your question involves Microsoft Windows, press 1 now. If your } question involves Microsoft Internet Explorer, press 2 now..." } } "...press 88 now. If your question involves Microsoft Planet, press 89 } now. If your question involves Microsoft Solar System, press 90 now..." } } [Boy, am I glad *you're* the one paying the $9.95 per minute fee.] } } "...press 483,298,109 now. If your question involves Microsoft Soul, } press 483,298,110 now. If your question involves Microsoft House, } press 483,298,111 now. If-" } } *beep* *beep* *beep*  *beep* *beep* *beep*  *beep* *beep* *beep* } } "Hello, welcome to the Microsoft House support service. If your } question involves Microsoft Walls, press 1 now. If your question } involves Microsoft Doors, press 2 now. If your question involves } Microsoft Windows, House Edition, press 3 now. If your-" } } *beep* } } "...if your question involves Microsoft Glass, press..." } } [How long is this going to take, anyway?] } } "...665 now. If you would like to speak to The Seven Headed, Ten Horned } Beast from...er, I mean a human representative, press 666, then enter } your phone number, credit card number, social security number, } PIN number, yearly income, age, weight, number of children, and } Microsoft Soul registration number now." } } *beep* *beep* *beep* ... } } [A horrible noise that a few sick individuals might call "music" }  emanates from the phone.] } } "Hello, Microsoft House support service, how may I help you?" } } "Well, I need some help installing Windows 98 on my house." } } "What model is your current house?" } } "Er...I don't know." } } "Oh that's okay, our Master's recor...I mean, it doesn't matter, you }  need to upgrade to House 98 to use Windows 98 properly." } } "Ok, how do I go about doing that?" } } "Let me connect-" } } *buzz* *click* *ring* *ring* } } "Hello, welcome to the Microsoft support service. Like all of the } advanced systems here, this service is run by the latest version } of Windows NT, which may be purchased for an incredibly low..." } } ---- } Oh well. So much for that. My advice is to throw the thing in the } garbage, and get some free Linux glass (I.E. sand) from a local } beach. It really is much cheaper that way. } } Given the fact that you just spent your life savings on the } Microsoft tech support service, you don't owe the Oracle anything.

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

> HELP, I'M TRAPPED IN THE QUEUE, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} You are in the queue. It is a dank, dirty stone passageway going to the } north and south. The smell of ancient rot fills the air. There are two } questions here. } } LOOK FIRST QUESTION } } You see a short, witty question with a poor grovel. } } EAT QUESTION } } You do not have a question. } } GET QUESTION. } } The question eludes you. } } ATTACK QUESTION } } You attack the question with your bare hands. The question ducks. You } have pulled off its grovel. } } EAT GROVEL } } The grovel is sickening. You vomit. } } ATTACK QUESTION } } You attack the question with your bare hands. The question ducks, and } slips in a pool of vomit. The second question exits to the north. } } GO NORTH } } You are in the queue. It is a dank, dirty stone passageway going to the } north and south. The smell of ancient rot fills the air. There are ten } questions here, formed in a phalanx. } } LOOK PHALANX } } You see a solid formation of null questions } } ATTACK PHALANX } } You attack the phalanx with your bare hands. The questions are empty. } You blow goes right through them and hits the wall. Your left hand is } slightly wounded } } D*MN! } } Damn who, where, with what? } } D*MN EVERYTHING TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET } } There is no handbasket here. } } GO NORTH } } You are in the queue. It is a dank, dirty stone passageway going to the } north and south. The smell of ancient rot fills the air. There is a } chink in the west wall. There is a handbasket here. } } GET HANDBASKET } } You have the handbasket } } GO SOUTH } } You are in the queue. It is a dank, dirty stone passageway going to the } north and south. The smell of ancient rot fills the air. There are ten } questions here, formed in a phalanx. You have a handbasket. } } D*MN EVERYTHING TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET! } } The handbasket does not have magical powers. } } DROP HANDBASKET } } You drop the handbasket. } } GO NORTH } } You are in the queue. It is a dank, dirty stone passageway going to the } north and south. The smell of ancient rot fills the air. There is a } chink in the west wall. } } LOOK CHINK } } The wall around the chink is a wood panel painted to look like old } stone. } } OPEN PANEL } } You open the panel. You see a diamond ring. } } GET RING } } You have a diamond ring. } } FINGER RING } } [cs.indiana.edu] } Login name: ring                        In real life: Diamond Ring } Directory: /home/d/ring                 Shell: /usr/local/bin/bash } Last login: Dec  7 16:11:09 on ttyp4 from MUDSERVER.CS.INDIANA.EDU } No unread mail } No plan } } PUT RING ON FINGER } } The ring is on your finger } } GO NORTH } } You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike } } GO SOUTH } } You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike } } HEY, THERE'S SUPPOSED TO BE A STONE PASSAGEWAY TO THE SOUTH! } } Well, pbbbbbttthhhht. } } YELL "HELP, I'M TRAPPED IN THE QUEUE, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?" } } You yell "Help, I'm trapped in the queue, can anyone hear me?" The } sound echoes eerily down the passageway. You hear someone responding: } "You are in the queue. It is a dank, dirty stone passageway..." } } You owe the Oracle a new genre to parody.

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

> >GROVEL > Done. > >VERSION > The Discordian Oracle > > An Interactive Penal Gland > Version 5 Serial Number 231705 > >LOOK > Illuminated Temple > > You are standing in a temple dedicated to illumination; light pours > in from all directions. Exits are to the north, gnorth, and snouth. > > You see a miniature pyramid inscribed with an 'i', some acid (half > used), and a Zodoc here. > >XYZZY > A hollow voice says "Fnord." > >LOOK AT ZODOC > Zodoc is here on loan from the Internet Oracle; he looks dejected. > >ASK ZODOC ABOUT ERIS > Zodoc looks up, and says "She's actually fairly nice, at least > compared to Orrie." > >GO GNORTH > The Principia Discordia > > You are standing in the Principia Discordia. Yes, that's right, > you're inside the holy book of Eris. Malpacalopse the Younger makes > his home here; however, he's not here right now. Exits are to the > snouth and south. > > You see a dead parrot (who is pining for the fjords), a spelling > error (sacred to Eris), a self-refrence, and a hypercube here. > >X SELF-REFRENCE > I see no SELF-REFRENCE here! > >_

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The incarnation stared despondently at his monitor. Another Nethack } parody! The digests had been riddled with them lately. Not that he'd } ever bothered too much with Nethack himself. And, worse, this one was } expecting a knowledge of the Principia Discordia and the Illuminatus } trilogy! He'd never read either. The closest he'd gotten was a brief } lurk in alt.discordia, before concluding it was dominated by a few } in-joking ego trippers and not worth the effort. Much like a.r.k. } these days, he thought - or r.h.o.d., for that matter. } } The incarnation took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. } He was really too old to be doing this. His student days were a } half-forgotten dream. His daughter was out clubbing with her adolescent } friends. His wife was downstairs watching some dreary TV film about } (yet another) LA earthquake disaster, and intermittently shouting } predictions up at him, like "The sleazy governor's going to die!" } and "The girl's father's going to die, and then her mother will be } all remorseful!". Clearly no chance of any mental stimulation if he } went down there. But he should be doing something... well, ceative. } At least something that didn't aggravate the growing pains in his } right wrist and fingers. Hell, at his age he should be in bed with } a book at this time of night! } } He looked at the question again. He could ignore it and call up } another one. But there was no "queue is getting full - do askme's" } message at the top, so he'd be obliged first to come up with a } question of his own so he could honestly deny any accussations of } queue-draining.  The answers he received to his own questions were } almost invariably depressing, so he preferred doing askme's. Anyway, } he'd have another ten minutes to wait before the next question would } drop into his in-tray, and chances were it would be from a six-year-old } Hotmailer with the verbal and typing skills of a dead gerbil. } } Dammit, he thought, he was a hardened incarnation of five years' } standing - he could make something of any question! The supplicant had } relinquished his control over it; now the incarnation could do with } it as he pleased. With a snap of his fingers, he could change the } setting to a Star Trek TNG/Jane Austen cross-over if he wanted to. } Or another rambling interchange between the Oracle, Zadoc and Lisa. } The power was his! } } On the CD playing in the background, Cerys of Catatonia sang } "You could be taking it easy on yourself, you should be making it } easy on yourself".  The incarnation smiled. He was no great fan of } Catatonia, but he loved the way that girl enunciated "road rrrage" - } it reminded him of his own Welsh ancestry. Now there was a thought: } an answer based on the Mabinogion! Little likelihood of that ever } having been done before.  And it was not in his nature to take it } easy on himself, anyway. He began typing. } } And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } } } Pwyll, prince of the seven cantrevs of Dyfed, gazed upon the dead } } parrot and the self-reference which barred his way on the road } } between Glynn Cuch and Penn Llwyn on Bwya. Standing over the two } } objects was a pack of white dogs with red ears, their breath misting } } the clear, cold morning air.  Never had he seen such creatures } } as these: the whiteness of their hides shone, so did the redness } } of their ears. Surely they belonged to Arawn King of Annwvyn, the } } underworld which could only be reached by entering the tumulus of } } Bryn-Celli-Ddu at the edge of his lands.  Pwyll dismounted from } } But no, that wouldn't work. There were certain questions which demanded } an answer in the same format, such as haikus and limericks, Raymond } Chandler parodies and text-based MUD scenarios. Changing the ground } rules was a cop-out. } } The incarnation decided to go for it anyway. It was just a matter of } playing to his own strengths, and his strengths were elaborate puns } and obscure literary references. He began to type again. } } And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } } } > SAY "I WANT TO SEE MALPACOPALYPSE NOW" } } } } Zodoc says "That's a film by Francis Fnord Prefect Coppola. That is } } not a valid refrence under the present circumplexes. Do not try to } } throw a Spaniard in the works. Either stick to Princess Di's Cordial } } or foist your hackle." } } } } > HIT ZODOC } } } } It is not a good idea to hit a spelling error. } } } } > CORRECT SPELLNG^H^HING ERROR } } } } Zodoc splits into 3 entities: Zodac, Prozac and Zantac, the Sons of } } Eris. They sing 12 choruses of "Gallifrae Bay" to the tune of the } } "Doctor Who" theme, whilst drinking unfluoridated GNUnness and } } adulterating a packet of breakfast cereal. } } } } > GO GNORTH } } } } There is no exit in that direction. } } } } > SAY "YOU SAID THERE WAS!" } } } } There is, but you should have said "Go Oliver Gnorth". } } } } > SAY "OLIVER GNORTH IS A PENAL IMPANT" } } } } Cerys sings "This looks like a case for Mjolnir and Scullduggery". } } Abruptly, you find yourself in a Mabinog. There is no Og there, nor } } even a Tirnan Og. There is, however, a Kyvwlch son of Cleddyv Divwlch. } } He is planting leeks, or leaking plants, whatever. } } } } > PRONOUNCE KYVWLCH SON OF CLEDDYV DIVWLCH } } } } Shirley you jest. } } } } > SAY "YEAH" } } } } You lose 10 points for trying to get cute with the Discordian } } Clavicle. } } } } > SAY "SORRY" } } } } Thank you. You have restored the Oracollar bonehommie, but I'm keeping } } your 10 points as Suret'e. } } } } > LOOK EXITS } } } } There are no exits from this room. } } } } > PLAY "DO OR DIE" CARD STOLEN FROM COLDITZ BOARD GAME } } } } Zodac says "Too late, Captain Hogan", Prozac says "I see nuzzing", } } Zantac says "Thanks for nuzzing" and rolls three double sixes with } } one die. You hear nuzzing except a buzzing, and your card turns to } } adulterated  breakfast cereal. } } } } > PINE FOR THE FNORDS } } } } Nice try, but there is still Norway out. } } } } > SING "WATERLOO, COULDN'T ESCAPE IF I WANTED TO" } } } } You are not Abba, you are not a Swede or a leek. You are a Norway and } } you have scored nul points. Thank you for playing "I Dream of Olwen } } with the Light Brown Llanfair". } } The incarnation stopped typing. He massaged his aching right hand with } his left, then hit a function key. A notice appeared on the bottom of } his screen "Save as C:\PCELM\mailtext.txt. (S)end/(A)bort/(E)dit?" } } The incarnation's finger hovered above the keyboard. Send it? It really } was a load of complete gibberish! He had his reputation as one of the } wittier faces of the Oracle to consider, after all. } } The finger descended. It depressed the letter E.

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

> Oh great and powerful Oracle, whose penmanship is even more flawless > than that of John Hancock himself, > > How can I learn to write in recursive?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Use pens designed by Mandelbrot. } } You owe me a CD-Rom full of GNU projects.