> O insanely great Oracle, who doesn't need a plane to fly, who excels at
> every Olympic event, who is in a league of your own, whose perspiration
> I am unworthy of mopping up with my best tuxedo, please tell me:
> First I asked you a question to which you replied, "*ZOT!*" So I
> omitted the references to woodchucks, wood, and chucking, rephrased the
> question, and resubmitted it. Again you replied, "*ZOT!*"
> So I removed the references to lemurs, bedposts, and frinking,
> embellished the question with flattering Oracular references, and
> submitted it yet again. Yet again you replied, "*ZOT!*"
> So I deleted the references to C programs, dirty GIF files, and Lisa's
> bodacious bod, added a few more lines of groveling, and asked again.
> Again you replied, "*ZOT!*"
> So I had the heads of the English departments of all the ivy league
> universities check the spelling, grammar, and punctuation of my
> message, asked Kurt Vonnegut to write a stately foreword that I could
> include (royalty-free, of course), and sent my message yet again. And
> again you replied, "*ZOT!*"
> So I hired several dozen psychics, astrologers, clairvoyants,
> idiot-savants, and mind-readers to analyze my message, and several
> dozen more mystics, witch doctors, voodoo priests, impressarios, gurus,
> and medicine men to remove any bad karma, evil spirits, and bad luck,
> and to bless my message with good karma, good luck, charm, and feng
> shui, and resubmitted my message. Again you replied, "*ZOT!*"
> So I quit my job, divorced my wife, sold my worldly possessions, shaved
> my head, donned a sack-cloth, and made a pilgrimage on my hands and
> knees all the way from mountains of Nepal to the hallowed halls of
> Indiana University. I waited patiently outside your door through all
> sorts of inclement weather, held daily prayer vigils, and begged your
> High Priests for the opportunity to speak with you. When you finally
> came to the door you looked at me and replied, "*ZOT!*"
> Now I'm locked up in a padded cell in a lunatic asylum, completely out
> of my mind, wearing one of those Hannibal Lechter hockey face masks,
> and strapped into a straight jacket. I'm incapable of distinguishing
> right from wrong, sane from insane, and "hello" from "*ZOT!*" so
> anything you say to me now will be inconsequential. But I have just one
> more question to ask you:
> How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?