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

> Egor: "More questions for the master, yes, yes, more questions for the > master..." > > Oracle: "Er, Igor?" > > Egor: "That's Egor, master, yes, as I said before." > > Oracle: "Ah, yes, now I remember. Egor, then. Egor, why did you come > back? We're not advertising for a new in-joke to my knowledge, and if > we are, then I must have words with Zadoc..." > > Egor: "Egor merely wishes to serve the master, yes, and grovel before > his magnificence!" > > Oracle: "..." > > Egor: "Egor would like to know, how the master speaks in punctuation, > yes." > > Oracle: "It's simple, you just- no, no, I'm not going to tell you. In > fact..." > > [Oracle turns to the door.] > > Oracle: "ZADOC!" > > [Zadoc enters.] > > Oracle: "Please, see Egor to the front door, would you?"

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Egor: "No! I! Will! Not! GO!" } } <zot> } } Oracle picks up a still smoldering charred skull that is giving } off a most disdainful burnt stench, "Alas poor Egor, I didn't } want to know him and now he smells." } }                       ---\ /--- } } In-joking is not for amateurs. I can't tell you how many times } I've gotten a panic filled email from some froup moderator trying } to repair the shattered soul of some innocent newbie that had an } in-joke go off as they were trying to sound like 'one of the guys'. } Keep in mind that ALL in-jokes are inherently unstable! } } Please people! Leave in-jokes to expendable professionals, like } the priests, who are trained just for the task of dealing with } and disposing of in-jokes! } } That being said, The Oracle would like to announce right this } second the first ten in-jokes of the 2000s so that people can } enter into the new decade in a heighten state of preparation } and awareness. Use -extreme- caution when discussing any of } the following in-jokes. } }                     --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2000: Captain Hook } }  role: Cankerous old coot that is the bogey man of rhod, shows up }        when ever a grumpy comical enemy or stock bad guy is needed } }  Abuse can result in peg legs, left eye atrophy, parrotism and long }  pointless quests masked as trips of self-discovery. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2001: Ryot Grrl } }  role: Anarchist for the new millennium, used to shout out nihilist }        anti capitalistic rants or when a commercial district }        needs trashing, Ryot Grrl intended use is to show 'thumb on }        the pulse of today's youth' aspect of the Oracle as riots }        grip urban areas for most of 2001 } }  Abuse can results in "rubber bullet marks" on the torso and long }  weekends in the slammer. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2002: Ernie the Devil Cat } }  role: counterweight to 1990's era in-joke the Bright Red Siamese }        Fighting Fish. After the President's cat mauls Barbara }        Walters the cat in question, Ernie, enters public }        consciousness as a symbol of unprovoked aggression } }  Abuse can result in public 'feline' consumption, drunkenness and }  odd diggings in public places. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2003: Flipper's Corpse } }  role: Wildly unlikely, yet bizarrely reoccurring image of this }        dead TV show critter's corpse shows up in so many }        questions and answers that it joins what is to be }        later referred to by historians as "The Three Animal }        Injokes of Y2K 2,3 & 4" } }  Abuse can result in 'tuna breath'. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2004: The Baboon Proctologist } }  role: The heated debate about government veterinary HMOs }        in the USA results in this colorful creature showing }        up in numerous answers as a foil for the issue of }        animal health insurance } }  Abuse leads -without fail- to ghostly nightmares of paranoid }  prosecution and insatiable desire to eat tiny timid geese. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2005: toothpicks } }  role: after the hit comedy of Y2K-5, "A Man and his Calendar" }        the whole world can hardly say the word toothpick without }        laughing, the Oracle follows suit } }  Abuse leads to 'thin stick' ridicule. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2006: "And what sea does that refer to?" } }  role: "A Man and his Calendar II" sweeps the Oscars, as }        does the most inane catch phrase of the decade } }  Abuse ( see above ) } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2007: Little Bo Peep } }  role: In a violent backlash to the now embarrassing infatuation }        with the whole "A Man and his Calendar" situation, the }        Oracle's followers retreat into something safe and sane. }        Little Bo Peep shows up when a voice of calm innocence }        is needed to still the bizarre waters so to speak } }  Abuse leads to sheep disorders. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2008: Three Pigs in a Blanket } }  role: As 'mad cow' disease renders the survivors in Europe }        to a state of substance level vegetarianism, references }        to the willing consumption of meat take on a macabre }        humor that reaches a peek in the Oracle's cruelly famous }        "Three Pigs in a Blanket" answer of February 6th, 2008 } }  Abuse leads to inoperable UK tract disorders. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } 2009: "Mr. ASCII turns out the lights" } }  role: As the Oracle moves the last of his world from USENET }        to the NueralTRanOpt grokers laugh at the antics of }        this characterization of an old man still clinging to }        the lost art of literacy and 'keyboards', Mr. ASCII is }        not a neo-luddite as much as an unreformed idealist. }        Newer readers love to hate him, older readers find }        his ideas charming, if dated and quaint. } }  Abuse leads to Netophobia. } }                      --=+<{( )}>+=-- } } You owe the Oracle a real live owl.

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

> Oh wise and overworked Oracle, > > why is it that your queue is so full in the moment? Are the priests on > the strike and / or considering forming a union?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} :: } :: THIS IS AN AUTOMATED REPLY THAT HAS KEYED ON THE WORD "UNION" } :: } } Dear Supplicant Response Technician, } } When the Oracle started many years ago, we realized the needs of the } common worker.  This is why we supply priests with the very choicest of } benefits, like health and dental plans, stock options, and "Crazy Donut } Fridayz" at our corporate offices.  We understand the values that you, } the Oracle Preist/Monk/Servant/Bum, have brought the Oracle through our } times of growth. } } It has come to our attention that there are some officials who have } been under the mistaken impression that employees need the hassle of } being Unionized.  The officials are currently being tracked down and } "reeducated," using the choicest of friendly and persuasive methods } with the minimum of bone breaking and bruising.  Wild tales of how we } are burning down the homes of the organizers, or kidnapping their } children and holding them over alligator pits are simply fabrications } made by our hardworking but talent-strapped arsonists and bored } alligator pit management, trying to get a bigger budget in the next } fiscal year. } } While we here at Oracle understand the needs for employees to get } together and create new ideas for the Oracle, we do not think it is } necessary to form any sort of extracurricular activity where Oracle } management methods are discussed.  A Union does not unite the common } worker, in fact, it creates an atmosphere of one-upmanship.  On top of } that, you have to pay dues (which we last imagined was $123,456,789 } dollars USD a week), and they don't even give you near the amount of } satisfaction that a sweet glazed cruller gives you on "Crazy Donut } Fridayz."  And when the leaders of your new union decide that not } enough people are paying them in dues, and go on strike, how will you } face your favorite goldfish? "Goldie, no special flakes for you today, } Jackie Presser has decided that making a point about 'department } safety' and the recent, but unrelated, multiple deaths of people from } poisoned postage stamps is better than your owner having wages." } } So before you take that communist pamphlet, and poison our already } disgruntled and overworked employee pool with antique Marxist comments } about the factory conditions of the 1800s, remember: Our alligators get } very hungry when the workers are not there to feed them. } } Looking forward to seeing your family at the company picnic, } } Oracle Management } "We have all the answers." } } :: } :: THIS HAS BEEN AN AUTOMATED REPLY THAT HAS KEYED ON THE WORD "UNION" } :: } :: YOU OWE THE ORACLE A COPY OF "THE MADCAP MANAGEMENT STYLE OF BOSS } :: TWEED" AND "WHO STOLE MY CHEESE" } ::

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

> Ladies, I pray you tell me > Where a gentle maiden dwelleth, > Named Yum-Yum, the ward of Ko-Ko?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} (Enter procession of sentient Weasels, heralding Sib-Sib, Pyth-bo } and Cassi-Dann.) } } Chorus of Weasels: }   Comes a team of plucky females }   Who, for an outrageous fee, }   Answer letters, calls and emails, }   Solving ev'ry mystery! }   Do you find you are unable }   To restrain your farts? }   Have you broken Peter Gabriel }   Into num'rous parts? }   Did you meet up with the pontiff }   In your underwear? }   Face the facts, you'd be quite stumped if }   Our three girls weren't there! }   Face the facts, you'd be quite stumped if }   Our three girls weren't there! }   Come along, you must involve 'em, }   Tell them what your problems be, }   And they'll solve 'em -- how they'll solve 'em! }   They'll solve 'em -- how they'll solve 'em! }   For a monumental fee! }   For a quite outrageous fee! } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo, Cassi-Dann: }   Three little maids for hire are we, }   Finding out facts our destiny, }   Running up bills with wanton glee -- }   Three little maids for hire! } } Sib-Sib: }  Nothing is e'er too much to ask! (Giggle) } } Pyth-Bo: }   I'll tackle each and ev'ry task! (Giggle) } } Cassi-Dann: }   'S long as she's got her whisky flask! (Giggle) } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo, Cassi-Dann: }   Three little maids for hire! } } (Dancing) }   Three little maids who, once we've started, }   Never delay or do things half-hearted, }   Till you with all of your cash have parted -- }   We're never known to tire! }   Three little maids for hire! } } Sib-Sib: }   I'll search the phone books one and all -- } } Pyth-Bo: }   I'll visit Niger and Nepal -- } } Cassi-Dann: }   I'll just go shopping down the mall -- } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo, Cassi-Dann: }   Three little maids for hire! } } Sib-Sib: }   I found your answer very soon -- } } Pyth-Bo: }   I had just flown off to Rangoon -- } } Cassi-Dann: }   I bought a dress that'll make you swoon -- } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo: }   She has some fine attire! } } Chorus of Weasels: }   Three little maids for hire! } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo, Cassi-Dann, and Chorus of Weasels: }   Now that you've had your information, }   Here is the bill for your consultation, }   Hope it won't cause you consternation -- } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo, Cassi-Dann: }   Some customers expire! } } Sib-Sib, Pyth-Bo, Cassi-Dann, and Chorus of Weasels: }   Three little maids for hire! } } (Sib-Sib presents the invoice to the Customer. Exeunt Ladies and } Weasels, with a good deal of scuffling and biting. The Customer } studies the invoice in dismay.) } } Customer: }   Now I know why they say ignorance is bliss.

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

> I am at a crossroads in my career. I am currently a freelance editor > working in a somewhat full time basis for a publishing company that has > moved from small, quick, and fun to work for to slightly larger, > incredibly bogged down by meetings, and mind-numbingly, > homicidal-urge-inducing dreadful to work for on a daily basis. I see > the Web as my freedom, but I do not know where to go. I require > assistance that cannot be found within a Magic 8-ball. What shall I do > to save my sanity and find as a new career?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Well whatever you do, don't go into grovel-ghosting, you'd have a Hard } Time. In the meantime, here's the Top Ten things to do to liven up that } office whilst you secretly plan a coup d'etat in a small South American } dictatorship: } } 10) Call a florist and tell them your greatest love simply must have a } hundred red long stemmed roses at once, then give them your name and } office as delivery address and charge it to the company. } 9) Buy a picture frame. Leave the sample picture (the larger the } 'SAMPLE' sticker the better) in and place the frame prominently on your } desk. Carry it to meetings with you. From time to time, stroke it } lovingly. } 8) Impersonate well-known cartoon characters. All day. Every day. Do } not use your real voice or mannerisms. } 7) Sidle to meetings, the water cooler, photocopier etc. If anyone asks } why, look past their left ear and say: "Ted made me". Carry on sidling. } 6) Arrive early, leaving an alarm clock and five red candles wired } together on your desk. Leave the office, come back when everyone else } has arrived, and 'defuse' the 'bomb'. } 5) Make a pass at yourself in the bathroom mirror. The more colleagues } in there, the better. Let them see your greatness. } 4) Carry a packet of biscuits - that's cookies, you see - at all times. } When someone asks you a question, look at them thoughtfully, eat a } biscuit, and then answer as though no biscuit had occurred. } 3) Stand on your head or do complex yoga positions (practice, though, } don't injure yourself) whenever a meeting becomes too much. It's } guaranteed to lighten the mood for everyone. } 2) Email the entire organisation thanking them for their ingenuity in } coming up with a cure for smallpox/radish blight/rust. } 1) Go to a fancy dress shop. Buy a monkey costume. When it seems the } meetings, co-workers and so on are becoming too much, gradually dress } in the costume. By the time you're ready for the head, you should be } screaming: "Are you trying to make a monkey out of me? Are you? Answer } me!" Repeat as necessary. } } You owe the Oracle a cheerful can-do attitude and a better job six } weeks from now.

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

> Oracle, you that hold our interest, you whose ideas are worth > saving, you that knows all the secret Swiss Bank Account Numbers, > you that uses his capital correctly, > > Do cats have any other weapons?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} But of course. } } Most people are familiar with the classic claws and teeth that cats } have. They also have much more...subtle weapons. } } *Cuteness } } What is a cat if it's not cute?  The fastest way to disarm its human is } for a cat to give him or her a wide eyed look and a drawn out meow.  If } this fails to work, it merely has to rub up against the ankles of the } target human - and nobody can resist that. } } *Purr device } } What most people understand is that cats are happy when they are } purring. This goes with the cuteness thing above, but cats also have } another subtle weapon within purring - they will purr when in pain } also.  This bit of deception can bait a human, and the result isn't } pretty. } } When anything else fails, of course, the cat merely has to mope.  This } will instill guilt into anyone with a good soul. } } You owe the Oracle a can of tuna.  It would seem my own cat needs to be } fed.

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

> Dear Auntie Ora, > > I remember reading that Apollo ordained no-one should believe > Cassandra's prophecies.  How can we trust her, and yet not disobey > him?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Speaking purely for myself, sunshine, I wouldn't trust the kid with a } piece of string. So she's pissed Apollo off now, has she? I'm dying to } know how. Hey, Danni! DANNI! } }     How many times do I have to tell you, Pyth? It's Cassie! } } Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Why's Apollo got it in for you? } }     Who? } } Apollo. You know - sun god. Blond guy. Goes around on a boogie board } in 'Hercules: The Legendary Journeys'. } }     Oh, HIM! That was nothing! And anyways, it wasn't-- } } --Your fault. How did I guess? C'mon, spill it. What did you do? } }     Well, it was when Sibyl sent you to check out Shangri-La, to see }     whether it was the happiest place on earth, remember? Only then }     she had second thoughts, 'cos maybe it was the Elysian Fields }     instead, so she sent me to Mount Olympus to ask. And those Greek }     gods, like, they were real nice to me! I mean Zeus, he turned }     himself into this *ever* so cute swan, see, and then he-- } } Cut to the chase, Danni. } }     Cassie! Well, then Apollo wanted to know why we were called }     'Delphic Research', and were we trying to make out like we were }     his oracle or something? And I said no way because Sibyl has been }     around for simply *ages*, right, and so she must have been the }     first, so sucks to his rotten oracle with knobs on and... Well, }     at that point Hera said it should be decided by a contest-- } } What - you against the Oracle of Delphi? } }     That's right. } } Ohhhh GHOD... } }     And you know what's funny? We never even left Greece. Like, at }     school they told us Delphi was in India. Shows how much those }     teachers know, eh? } } What happened next? } }     We all went in this cave, which was horrible and full of fumes and }     smelled of rotten eggs. I guess that oracle doesn't wash much. }     And then the high priest asked, "Oh great oracle of the ages, }     daughter of Gaia and Typhon, queen of the past, present and }     future, we bring you wondrous gifts and beg you to tell us - Who }     will win the 12:10 at Sandown Park?" And then we heard this weird }     woman's voice moaning and groaning in the darkness, and eventually }     she says, "The race is not necessarily to the swift nor the battle }     to the strong, nor chocolate brownies to the sweet-toothed, nor }     ferrets to the owners of unicycles." And a lot more stuff like }     that. Well, one or two of the demigods were prodding each other }     in the ribs and snickering behind their hands, and you could see }     Apollo wasn't any too pleased because his oracle was talking such }     rubbish, and-- } } Fast forward, Cass. } }     Right. Then the high priest turns to me and asks me the same }     question, only missing out the bit about wondrous gifts, which }     I thought was a bit stinky. So I ask who's running, and they }     show me a newspaper with the starting line-up, and you know what? }     There's this horse called 'Pretty In Pink'! So I say *that* one, }     because you know how I like pink-- } } I'm beginning to have this feeling I don't really want to know how } this ends... } }     And then Zeus announces that whatever the prophetess Cassandra }     says is good enough for him, and that he's going to put his shirt }     on 'Pretty In Pink' at 14 to one. And he gives me this big smile, }     which is really sweet of him, only Hera looks real miffed, I don't }     know why-- } } She's his wife. } }     She IS??? He didn't say he was married! Oooh! } } Tantrums later. Get on with the narrative. } }     Well, when Zeus said he was betting everything on 'Pretty In }     Pink', all the other gods did too, even Apollo. } } And 'Pretty In Pink' finished? } }     Last. } } You astonish me. } }     Yeah well, I don't tell a horse how fast to run, do I? So how can }     anybody say it's *my* fault? } } Gods can be so unreasonable. All the same, I don't think we'll be } referring to this case in any of our publicity material, if you don't } mind. } }     Married! Huh! What a sleazeball!

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

> It's a dromedary, *not* a camel!

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Eeeewww!  No wonder it didn't taste so good when I smoked it.

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

> I'm hiding under this tree, trying to avoid your massive *ZOT*.  Will > it protect me?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} That depends on what sort of tree it is. } } If it's an ash tree, you'll find you've been singed. } If it's a citrus tree, your efforts will go sour. } If it's a fig tree, to me you'll be pretty much naked. } If it's a nut tree, I might find you a little hard to crack, but you'll } probably get roasted. } If it's an olive tree, your only chance is if I decide to extend you a } branch. } If it's a palm tree, I know how to hit you much like I know the back } side of my hand. } If it's a pear tree, it might take two shots. } If it's a pine tree, I suppose a falling cone might block my shot. } } But as you're under a binary tree, I'd say there's a half a chance. } } With thanks to http://www.dictionary.com/ and } http://www.igin.com/treelist.html.

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

> Oh Oracle Most Wise, > Your words of wisdom are like rose-petals on the Lawn of Life > > Only Wiser. > > Sybil, Pythia, Cassidy, and Steve Irwin the Australian Naturalist > > That's _four_ new in-jokes in _one_ edition of Oracularities. > > This is a flagrant violation of the Strategic In-Joke Limitation > Treaty, which sets a limit of 2 new in-jokes per Oracularity. > > By the terms of this treaty, you now have 4 days to kill-off > two of the in-jokes, either > > 1. To the tune of a Gilbert and Sullivan song. > 2. In the style of Shakespeare. > 3. In the Style of Quentin Tarantino > or > 4. In Haiku.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Haiku is passe', } Its prose is limited, } There is not enough } } Room for you to eas- } ily fit long words in, } Without a hyphen. } } Three young delphis accosted me, } Told me to stay here quietly, } Tied me up and gave me tea, } Three young delphis, quite rude. } } One shoved a gun against my head, } Told me to "Shush." or I'd be dead, } Passage from the bible, she then read, } Three young delphis, quite rude. } } Then to the room came that bloke Steve, } Brought in a croc with teeth that cleave, } Right about then I asked to leave, } Three young delphis, quite rude. } } He then said "You lit us stay!", } "Or ilse thir'll be hill t'pay!", } I asked him what he did say, } Three young delphis, quite rude. } } He then unleashed his pet on me, } Told me "Cripes, 'e's roight angry!", } I then tried to run and flee, } Three young delphis, quite rude. } } I then agreed they could stay here, } Steve was quite perfectly clear, } All of me left would be an ear, } Three young delphis, quite rude. } } Three young delphis!  Quite rude. } } So alas, poor Supplicant, your request hath fallen upon deaf ears (but } at least they're both still attached to my head). } } You owe the Oracle a bottle of anti-crocodile cologne, and a long pole.

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

>  The Penguin > >  by Rob Flynn <rob@tgflinux.com> >          and >              Jeramey Crawford <jacrawf@marko.net> > >  Once upon a term'nal dreary, while I hack'ed, weak and weary, >  Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten code-- >  While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a beeping, >  As of some one gently feeping, feeping using damn talk mode. >  "'Tis some hacker," I muttered, "beeping using damn talk mode-- >                            Only this. I hate talk mode." > >  Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak semester, >  And college life wrought its terror as the school year became a bore. >  Eagerly I wished for privledges;--higher access I sought to borrow >  For my term'nal, unceasing sorrow--sorrow for a file called core-- >  For the rare and radiant files of .c  the coders call the core-- >                             Access Denied.  Chown me more. > >  "Open Source," did all mutter, when, with very little flirt and >  flutter, > >  In there stepped a stately Penguin of the saintly days of yore. >  Quite a bit obese was he; having eaten lots of fish had he, >  But, by deign of Finnish programmer, he sat in the middle of my >  floor-- Looking upon my dusty term'nal in the middle of my floor-- >                             Came, and sat, and nothing more. > >  Then the tubby bird beguiling my sad code into shining, >  By the free and open decorum of the message that it bore, >  "Though thy term'nal be dusty and slow," he said, "Linux be not >  craven!" > >  And thus I installed a new OS far from the proprietary shore-- >  The kernel code open but documentation lacking on this shore. >                             Quoth the Penguin, "pipe grep more!" > >  Much I marvelled this rotund fowl to hear discourse so plainly, >  Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore; >  For we cannot help believing that no living human being >  Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird in the middle of his floor-- >  Bird or beast sitting in the middle of his cluttered floor, >                             With such instructions as "pipe grep more." > >  But the Penguin, sitting lonely in that cluttered floor, spoke only >  Those words, as if its soul in that instruction he did outpour. >  Nothing more did he need utter; understood did I among that clutter-- >  Understood his command as I could scarcely do a few moments before-- >  I typed as furious as was willed me, understanding just a minute >  before. > >                             Again the bird said "pipe grep more!" > >  "Amazing!" said I, "Penguin we will conquor the world if you will! >  By the Network that interconnects us--by that Finn we both adore-- >  We'll take this very world by storm!" For now grasped I what he'd >  meant, > >  The thing I do while searching /usr/doc/* for that wond'rous lore-- >  Those compendiums of plaintext documentation and descriptive lore. >                             Quoth the Penguin, "pipe grep more!" > >  And the Penguin, never waddling, still is sitting, still is sitting >  In the middle of my room and still very cluttered floor; >  And his eyes have all the seeming of the free beer I am drinking >  And the term'nal-light o'er him glowing throws his shadows on the >  floor; > >  And this OS from out the shadows that is pow'ring my term'nal on the >  floor >                              Shall be dominating--"Pipe grep more!"

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The "Blue Death" had long devastated the land. No pestilence had ever } been so infuriating, or so hideous. Gone were my avatars, my files-an } empty void where my harddrive was before. There were the sharp pains } in my temples, the sudden dizziness, bleeding from my knuckles where I } had punched the monitor. And the whole seizure, from spreadsheet } progress to termination, were the incidents of ten seconds. } } I had been a happy fellow. My harddrive was half-populated, } sagaciously stored memories and oft-used necessities. I could summon } to my presences a thousand and more fully-rendered avatars, knights } and dames of every century, and with these venture forth to the realm. } A strong and lofty personal firewall girdled my cable line, many had } tried to enter only to be repulsed with dizzying speed. } } It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of my familiarity } with my new system, while I entertained the masses in true-color 3-d, } that the Blue Death came upon me. } } It was a voluptuous scene, that 3-d party. A magnificent revel. I had } a fine eye for colors and effects, and applied them liberally. I } disregarded those with standard avatars, and personally invited to my } private room those who would appreciate my processor's abilities. } } The came the horror. At first the revelers slowed their dance, made } less merriment. Then the party fell silent. The partiers ceased to } move, and stared at me, waiting, waiting. I could only think that } someone had lagged me. } "Who dares," I typed, "who dares insult me with such a blasphemous } script?" } } I soon realized however that my hands had run ahead of my eyes for } there, on the screen before me, were not the words I had typed. The } scene was exactly as it was just moments ago, the expectant partiers } having not budged a pixel. } I fought vainly, pulling every weapon at my disposal, nothing } responded. In desperation, I enacted my final assault, my way to } determine which function had caused my system such a headache. For in } my desperation, I hit Control-Alt-Delete and there I saw, to my } horror, that which I had dreaded to see. } } And now was acknowledged the presence of the Blue Death. It came like } a thief in the night and, one by one, my system functions shut down. } The revelers would know by now what had happened, I would be } shamefaced forever. As darkness and decay settled over my hopes of } geekdom, my screen glowing blue before me, I pressed the Reset button } and sighed.