} I could do it, but I'm too intelligent to jump through hoops for you.
} No, seriously. I mean it.
} You write me with your questions, your "oh-dear-Oracle" fake smarmy
} nonsense and claim that it gives you some sort of right to a straight
} answer, or at least a humorous one. Even worse, you dare to CHALLENGE
} me, like I was some sort of toy that you can wind up. "Oracle, fix my
} sex life." "Oracle, how much wood would a woodchuck chuck....?"
} "Oracle, do better than that!"
} Well, I'm SICK of it! Do you hear me? Sick, sick, sick! [sic] Go
} back to your instant-gratification Nintendo-addict lifestyle and leave
} me to sulk on Parnassus! My health perfect, my future assured, my
} ethereal gauzed-clothed priests and priestesses at my side, ready to
} fulfill my every whim. Can't you see I'm living in Hell? How quickly
} I'd trade it to be one of the faceless querying masses, not having to
} be RIGHT and FUNNY all the time....
} You owe the Oracle a ride down to the Montel Williams studios for his
} guest shot on the "Self-Pitying Omniscient Deity-Like Creatures"
} segment to air next sweeps week.