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Internet Oracularities #1066

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


Internet Oracularities #1066    (81 votes, 3.1 mean)
Compiled-By: Steve Kinzler <kinzler@cs.indiana.edu>
Date: Thu, 10 Dec 1998 08:28:00 -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:
   1066
   2 1 3 4 3   5 3 3 4 1

1066  81 votes askh6 8qza2 4ezj9 27uwa oefia 5evla 6jlkf 5bupa aedjp 9cyj7
1066  3.1 mean  2.8   2.7   3.2   3.5   2.7   3.2   3.2   3.3   3.4   3.0


1066-01    (askh6 dist, 2.8 mean)
Selected-By: "Michael A. Atkinson" <chaos@enteract.com>

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!


1066-02    (8qza2 dist, 2.7 mean)
Selected-By: Mike Nolan <nolan@celery.tssi.com>

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.


1066-03    (4ezj9 dist, 3.2 mean)
Selected-By: R.P.Clement@westminster.ac.uk (Ross Clement)

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.


1066-04    (27uwa dist, 3.5 mean)
Selected-By: mchevalier@WELLESLEY.EDU

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.


1066-05    (oefia dist, 2.7 mean)
Selected-By: "Tim Chew" <twchew@mindspring.com>

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.


1066-06    (5evla dist, 3.2 mean)
Selected-By: "Tim Chew" <twchew@mindspring.com>

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.


1066-07    (6jlkf dist, 3.2 mean)
Selected-By: "Forbes, Michael Scott (Scott)" <trans@lucent.com>

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.


1066-08    (5bupa dist, 3.3 mean)
Selected-By: Otis Viles <cierhart@ic.net>

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.


1066-09    (aedjp dist, 3.4 mean)
Selected-By: "Alyce Wilson" <berlin63@hotmail.com>

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.


1066-10    (9cyj7 dist, 3.0 mean)
Selected-By: Otis Viles <cierhart@ic.net>

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.


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