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Internet Oracularities #944

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944, 944-01, 944-02, 944-03, 944-04, 944-05, 944-06, 944-07, 944-08, 944-09, 944-10


Internet Oracularities #944    (96 votes, 3.2 mean)
Compiled-By: Steve Kinzler <kinzler@cs.indiana.edu>
Date: Wed, 24 Sep 1997 09:36:59 -0500 (EST)

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on an integer scale of 1 ("very poor") to 5 ("very good") with the
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   944
   2 1 3 4 3   5 3 3 4 1

944   96 votes hhsld 7mHi6 0iBva 0bBzd istf6 5sut4 3igyp 9bumo 3mJl5 2gsBd
944   3.2 mean  3.0   2.9   3.3   3.5   2.6   3.0   3.6   3.4   3.0   3.4


944-01    (hhsld dist, 3.0 mean)
Selected-By: kirsten@spike.wellesley.edu (Kirsten Chevalier)

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

> ZODAC> I have come to serve you master.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Arocle> I have come to make fun of your spehling.


944-02    (7mHi6 dist, 2.9 mean)
Selected-By: "Alyce Wilson_Nesbit" <berlin63@hotmail.com>

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

> Dear Oracle,
>
> Yesterday was a horrible, horrible day.  It was my 39th birthday,
> which is bad enough all by itself, but to make an already bad thing
> worse, no one remembered it was my birthday except my mother.  As I
> was driving home from work, some a**h*** who I think must have been
> driving while drunk, and who was driving at least 20 mph over the
> speed limit, in the rain, on a slick road, swerved into my lane and
> just missed hitting me by maybe a foot or two.  I'm still shaking over
> that near-miss.  And now today I feel just like I have a hangover,
> despite the fact that I did not do any partying last night.  Can you
> please explain to me, what I did to deserve a birthday like that?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Well, it's like this... What you experienced yesterday is what is
} called a "karmic birthday". That is, you've reaped what you sowed.
}
} Nobody remembered your birthday? How many times did you forget your
} *mother's* birthday? Hmmm? Shall we count them up? No? Well, you get
} the point...
}
} Near-miss from an obviously drunk driver? What about that time, when
} you were 19, and you and your friends got blasted on vodka-and-cream
} soda [shudder] and drove all the way to Denver? Remember that little
} old lady you almost ran off the road? No? Odd. She still does...
}
} And the hangover? What about all those times when you were in your
} 20s and you drank yourself insensible and woke up the next morning
} without any ill effects whatsoever? You didn't think you'd never have
} to *pay* for that sort of excess, did you?
}
} You owe the Oracle a report next year on what your *40th* birthday
} was like.  Heh, heh, heh.


944-03    (0iBva dist, 3.3 mean)
Selected-By: "Alyce Wilson_Nesbit" <berlin63@hotmail.com>

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

> Dear Sir,
>
> Is there some problem we should know about with the US
> Air Force?  Why do they keep bumping into each other?
>
> Yours etc,
> Deeply Concerned.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Apparently they're getting a little too good with the stealth
} technology.


944-04    (0bBzd dist, 3.5 mean)
Selected-By: Darkmage <DAVIS@wehi.edu.au>

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

> I come from the future; please give the world this message:
>
> Don't launch the Titanic, it'll hit an iceberg and sink.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Listen you. You must be the millionth messenger-from-the-future to
} darken my doorstep, and the whole lot of you are nothing but trouble.
}
} First of all, not a single one of you has *ever* delivered a message to
} the right era. You, personally, have sent your message to the year
} 1997. The Titanic hit the berg in 1912. The Oracle realizes that
} time-travel is an inexact science and even landing within fifty years
} of your target date is a job well done. But -- well, first of all, you
} *didn't* get within fifty years, did you? No. But even if you had shown
} up in 1920, or 1915, or a mere two days after the event, you still
} would have accomplished nothing more than to make yourself look like a
} jerk.
}
} And even if you showed up before the event, what exactly would you have
} us do? We still speak, around here at Oracle Central, of the messenger
} that arrived in the 16th century to warn of a change in something
} called "Coke." Someone, one day, was going to take this Coke and turn
} it into "New" Coke. Tell the world! cried the messenger. We couldn't
} imagine what he was talking about. It turned out, of course, that he
} was ludicrously off the mark, time-travelwise, and by the time the
} proper time rolled around, his message had been lost for decades in the
} Oracle's cavernous offices. Now we've learned simply to totally
} disregard such prophecies. Indeed, we got one just the other day from
} some messenger who had some news about the day the stock market would
} finally crash... let me see, maybe I put that one aside... No, no, I
} don't see it. Yeah, I threw it out. I'm an Oracle, not an errand boy.
}
} Which reminds me: What is with this "delivering a message" nonsense? If
} you want to affect change, go and make the change yourself. What is the
} logic behind zapping yourself across the millenia just to hand somebody
} a letter? You're supposed to go back home and put your feet up and
} we're supposed to scramble around madly trying to save the future?
} Thanks for all the help. Perhaps the next time you want to save the
} Titanic, you can simply beam yourself on board the ship and, I don't
} know, hand out icepicks.
}
} You owe the Oracle the name of a good broker. I think it's time to sell
} my Microsoft shares.


944-05    (istf6 dist, 2.6 mean)
Selected-By: "Rich McGee" <rmcgee@wiley.csusb.edu>

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

> Oh wonderous Oracle who can ingest twenty Big Macs(r) without gaining
> an ounce, I am hoping for some advice.
>
> I had a dream last night that McDonalds(r) started a new promotion:
>
> Now, for a limited time only, you can get a free account on America
> Online with the purchase of a Big Mac!  Getting on the Information
> Superhighway has never been easier.  Great taste, good value and now
> easy Internet Access, all at your local McDonalds.
>
> So, when I awoke, drenched in sweat, I called up McDonalds Corporate,
> and spoke to Ray.
>
> "Ray," I said, "please tell me that you won't be handing out AOL disks
> at your stores."
>
> "No prolem," he replied.  "We wouldn't ally with AOL, instead we'll be
> promoting Netcom."
>
> So, Great Oracle, now what?  Is the future of the `Net to be crawling
> with B1FFs and people who think UPPER CASE MESSAGES ARE EASIER TO READ?
>  Are we to be deluged with folks who think we live to serve them and
> that common decency and good manners are not appropriate if one can
> remain anonymous?
>  Will FAQs become out of date, since nobody will bother to read `em?
> Will the better NetCitizens work out some new secret gathering, away
> from the annoyances of the Public At Large?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} ERROR 404, ORACULAR ANSWER NOT FOUND
}
} THE REQUESTED ANSWER DOES NOT EXIST AT THIS LOCATION. THE ANSWER IS
} EITHER OUTDATED, TOO SOPHISTICATED FOR YOUR PATHETIC INTELLECT, OR THE
} ORACLE HAS DECIDED NOT TO LET YOU HAVE IT.
}
} You owe the Oracle a much higher grovel:question ratio next time.  If
} you're smart, you'll figure out where to find me.


944-06    (5sut4 dist, 3.0 mean)
Selected-By: kirsten@spike.wellesley.edu (Kirsten Chevalier)

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

> tell me
>
> Do you persue a relationship with someone of a different class?
> or is everything at a loss?
>
> dipa@somewhere.com

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Being a bit pushy, there aren't you, Dipa?
}
} I mean, "tell me" without so much as a please, much less a grovel. It
} just goes to underscore the _difference_ between the classes when such
} rudeness becomes commonplace. Regardless of how attractive I find you
} (and I must say, you're not bad looking and a snappy dresser), and how
} much I like the tonality of your name (deee-paaah - boy that's good),
} the sheer lack of politeness endemic to those of your particular class
} makes a relationship an iffy thing with an Oracle like me.
}
} However, I wouldn't say all is at a loss. I have had productive (ahem)
} relationships with supplicants from all classes: K-12; Untouchable to
} Brahmin; First, Business and Coach; 1st to Parcel Post.
}
} I've even taken on a couple of the really cute rude-boys, a lot like
} you. Most of them have ended up facing the business side of the Wand of
} Zot after not too long a time, but it was fun getting there...
}
} deee-paaah....
}
} Ok, you've talked me into it. We'll give it a shot. Pick me up at 8.
}
} You owe the Oracle:
}     A nice bouquet of flowers,
}     A box of chocolates (milk chocolate, not that nasty semi-sweet),
}     And suitable evening entertainment,
}     Then we'll see which end of the Zot wand we're on.


944-07    (3igyp dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: "Leo L. Schwab" <ewhac@best.com>

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

> Oh most lexiconical Oracle,
>
> Please help me with the rest of this story...
>   ----------------------------------------------------------------
>
> At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted.
> The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home,
> now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said,   in happier times,
> that he liked chamomile.  But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep
> her mind off Carl.  His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she
> thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again.  So
> chamomile was out of the question.
>
> Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack
> squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think
> about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie
> with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago.  "A.S. Harris
> to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator.  "Polar
> orbit established.  No sign of resistance so far..."  But before he
> could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere    and
> blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay.  The jolt from the direct
> hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} With a small sigh of resignation, Laurie set her empty cup down gently
} on the counter and closed the cupboard.  She walked across the kitchen,
} only slightly aware of the fading light of dusk outside.  For a brief
} moment, she gazed out at the sky, then silently sat on the bench near
} the window. The tea would have to wait, she thought, the memories
} simply too powerful. As she rested her hand on the satiny fabric of the
} bench seat, its cool touch reminded her again of Carl.  She closed her
} eyes and tried to breathe deeply of the cool evening air.
}
} With a muttered curse, Harris crashed his way back to the controls.
} The ship had entered a steep and dangerous dive already, and he fought
} with all his strength to pull up and away from the Skylon atmosphere.
} Every muscle in his body strained as the glowing crescent of the
} planet's surface slowly righted itself and stabilized.  Harris allowed
} himself only a split second to catch his breath before trying to figure
} out where the blood was coming from.  Blast his weakness in thinking
} about that idiot Laurie!  Now he set his jaw and snatched the
} communicator from its cradle.  He was about to bark an order when
} another beam struck, this time even closer.  An explosion in the
} starboard panel hurled shards of metal at him, and sparks blinded him
} as the control console went up in flames.
}
} Looking up again, Laurie watched the lights begin to twinkle in the
} sky. Unaware of her own movements, she stood again, now seeking
} earnestly for ... but she stopped herself.  The rush of emotions was
} too much.  She found herself breathing intensely now, thinking of Carl,
} Carl ...
}
} Harris screamed in anger and pain as a rapid burst of ion beams struck
} the cockpit.  His deflector shields now badly damaged, he wiped blood
} from his eyes in a desperate move to find the source of the attack.
} The only sight that met his searching gaze was a succession of silent
} flashes as his squadron was decimated.  Focusing his rage, he snapped
} curses at the memory of Laurie's bizarre mind, and used the strength of
} his anger to blast through a wall of fire toward the planet's surface.
}
} The evening lights were bright now, like some kind of astral fireflies,
} and Laurie, entranced by them, moved quietly toward the door, her right
} hand extended and shaking slightly.  She could almost feel the touch of
} Carl's skin, too close, too hot and dangerous.
}
} Suddenly the fireballs were behind him, and Harris laughed in defiance
} as he rocketed into the atmosphere.  The blue violence of space was
} gone, and in its place came the jarring heat of re-entry.  Harris
} quickly checked his weapons systems, arming the few that were still
} operational.  His heart beat wildly, pumping new streams of blood
} across his face, and he realized that every cell in his body was alive
} and crying out for ... Laurie!  Damn!
}
} Even before she opened the door, the sky began to glow.  A low hum
} shook the ground under her bare feet as she trotted through the cool
} grass. Wild-eyed now, her hair blown back in disarray, she stared in
} the direction of the disturbance, remembering.
}
} With a piercing scream and a fresh burst of sparks, Harris's control
} system melted down.  Every rivet in the hull of the ship seemed to have
} worked loose, and he felt wind and heat and pain and terrible longing.
}
} Now with a crash mightier than thunder, Laurie watched the clouds split
} apart and hurl a white-hot comet of mangled metal toward her.  For an
} instant, her heart and her breathing stopped.
}
} Harris tried to brace himself, too late, as he saw the planet's surface
} rising toward him like a dream.  By the force of panic, he pulled up on
} the control stick enough to deflect the blow, then lost his grip as the
} impact tossed him from side to side, half burying his craft in the
} dirt.
}
} Laurie stumbled when the shockwave reached her, but caught her balance
} and stood, legs slightly apart, waiting.  Again, her breath came
} quickly and hot.
}
} Harris wearily hung his body weight on the hatch lever, and gasped as
} the planet's cool clear air rushed into the smoking hell of a cabin.
} He climbed the rungs automatically and pitched himself onto the soft
} ground.
}
} She ran to him now, her heart suddenly bursting with joy, her fears
} swept away at the mere sight of him.  Their eyes met as she approached.
}
} "We've got to stop meeting like this," he said.
}
} You owe the Oracle a cut of the profits on your next book, "Women are
} from Skylon 4, Men are from the Transgalactic Attack Squadron".


944-08    (9bumo dist, 3.4 mean)
Selected-By: Mike Nolan <nolan@celery.tssi.com>

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

> It's not the handle.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} No, it's not.  Now let go of it, before I hurt you.


944-09    (3mJl5 dist, 3.0 mean)
Selected-By: Scott Forbes <trans@lucent.com>

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

> Oh. Internet Oracle, wiser than the sum of all internet traffic, that
> flows all day and night in endless ripples around this planet earth,
> that is your life-blood. Great and merciful power that eclipses the
> twinkle of electronic packets flashing over the planet's surface. I
> seek answers to many questions but I need your greater power to answer
> this:
>
> 68 6F 77 20 6D 61 6E 79 20 67 65 65 6B 73 20 64
> 6F 65 73 20 69 74 20 74 61 6B 65 20 74 6F 20 63
> 68 61 6E 67 65 20 61 20 6C 69 67 68 74 62 75 6C
> 62 3F

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Whoa! Your golf scores are all *over* the place. You need to get some
} consistency into your game, boy. I'm impressed by the "20" but you've
} got far too many in the 70s.
}
} Tell you what, meet me at the course Saturday morning about 8:00 and
} we'll play a round together and I'll see if I can't give you some
} pointers.
}
} You owe the Oracle a really loud Hawaiian shirt.


944-10    (2gsBd dist, 3.4 mean)
Selected-By: Darkmage <DAVIS@wehi.edu.au>

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

> mistre Orakl
>
> my dadddy says i can bee anythng i want too be wen i growe up. i want
> do be a oraclee. wat do i do?
>
> pleese writ back ree soon.
>
> tommy

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Hello little Tommy, thank you for writing to the Oracle.  It's a fine
} thing to aspire to be an Oracle when you grow up.  Most kids your age
} are contacting sports agents or studying to be video game testers.
}
} First, you'll need to establish omniscience.  This is not as hard as it
} sounds, but the requirements vary, so check the Board of Omniscience in
} your area for details.  Tell them I sent you.
}
} Next, you'll need a priesthood.  This is really the tricky part, as
} you'll want priests smart enough to handle the correspondence, but not
} so smart that they see that there are no paychecks, benefits, or
} prestige.
}
} Finally, a good Oracle has a lot of supplicants.  This part is even
} easier than dealing with the Omniscience bureaucrats.  Just hang out
} your shingle, and before you know it your count of w**dchuck questions
} will skyrocket.
}
} In the meantime, Tommy, enjoy your childhood, and be curious and
} fun-loving.  Practice your skills at answering stupid questions (your
} parents will be a good source of these until you're through your
} teenage years).  And think about your correspondence medium.  For
} example, I am the Internet Oracle.  You may want to be the Shortwave
} Oracle, or the Pirated Cable Modem Network Oracle.  You may even want
} to start small as the Notes Passed In Class Oracle or the Chalk At
} Recess Oracle.
}
} Good luck, Tommy!  Oh, and I almost forgot.  When you're a little
} older, come back and I'll tell you about finding someone like Lisa.
} It's good to be the Oracle!
}
} You owe the Oracle a change of name for your kitty, to "Zadoc".


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