Goto:

1346, 1346-01, 1346-02, 1346-03, 1346-04, 1346-05, 1346-06, 1346-07, 1346-08, 1346-09, 1346-10

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

> Mighty Oracle > > Is it better to have a good looking wife who you dont love or an > ordinary looking wife who you do love? > > Humbly.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Bit late to be asking that, isn't it, Mr. Beckham? } } You owe the Oracle a promise that your next wife will have an IQ higher } than your shirt number. (No, moving to Real isn't an excuse.)

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

> Most Wise Oracle, I feel ill. Please read this; > > >According to the Independent on Sunday "A giant pair of angel's wings > >and a 6ft high photograph of Linda McCartney will form the centrepiece > >at a vigil in Trafalgar Square tomorrow evening".  "The > >quasi-religious nature of the event is being emphasized by the > >organizers, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.  The fans > >will hold candles and banners in honour of Linda, whom they have come > >to call 'the animals' angel'" > > What other dead celebrities will we make semi-deities? Sinatra the > angel of lounge lizards? Will Bob Hope become the angel of ski-jumps?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The Church of PeTA is following in the feetsteps of Saint Elron, } also known as L. Ron Hubbard.  Elron said that starting a church } was a sure-fire way to make money.  His success with the "Church" } of Scientology (formerly the "science" of Dianetics) proves his } point.  Elron's followers realize that show-biz people are very } insecure, fragile, and lacking true friends.  They fill that void, } and gain the status and legitimacy that rubs off from the public } image of the hoodwinked performer.  Looks as if St. Ingrid has } discovered Elron's methods. } } Your religion will be based on the Marx Brothers.  You owe the } Oracle reports on the Feast Days of Saints Gummo and Chico, } and an image (complete with music) of Harpo being angelic with } his harp.  (Groucho refuses to participate--"I wouldn't join any } club that would have me as a member.")

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

> Oh, Oracle, sage of sages, knower of knowledge and blower of noses. > Please answer the enternal riddle: > > Would you dance if I asked you to dance? > Would you run and never look back? > Would you cry if you saw me cry? > And would you save my soul, tonight?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} No, Yes, No and No. } } You owe the Oracle a better selection from the jukebox.

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

> Why does diarrhea smell so much worse than regular poops?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} It is a fact that has been suppressed by the government that plutonium, } chemical symbol Pu [1] , is produced in the colon of most living } creatures. By the process of radioactive decay, the Pu atoms emit } particles that when detected by the human nose are perceived to be } "stinky" [2]. Now, in a normal poop, the majority of the emitted } particles are trapped within the poop [3] and are not detected. The } particles for the Pu atoms on the outer surface of the poop are not } absorbed by the poop and fly off into the air where they are easily } noticed. Eventually the Pu in the outer layer of poop decays and no } more particles are emitted. [4] Diarrhea , on the other hand,[5] is } mostly liquid. Without the solid mass of poop; more of the particles } released by the decaying Pu atoms escape in the air. Obviously, the } more Pu particles in the air, the stinkier the poop. } } 1.  Don't tell me scientists don't have a sense of humor. } 2.  It was in fact a comment made by Oppenheimer [6] after Einstein had }     used the bathroom that led to the development of nuclear weapons. }     [7] } 3.  Poop is about 98.37% inert digested organic matter.[10] } 4.  This is easily demonstrated by a simple walk in the park. Old dog }     turds don't smell nearly as bad as fresh ones. But if you step on an }     old turd the inside is still stinky. } 5.  Yuck! Go wash you hands! } 6.  "Der Geruch Ihrer Scheisse konnte Haelfte Leute in Japan toeten." } 7.  Believe it or not, "Fat Man" and "Little Boy" were in fact Staff }     Sergeant Bill Peterson and PFC. Gregory O'Brian [8] who were }     stationed as guards at Los Alamos. } 8.  Both men produced an above average concentration of Pu in their }     poop. [9] } 9.  Which coincidentally led to the abolishment of "Burrito Night" in }     the mess hall. } 10. You would think that poop's unsurpassed ability to absorb }     radioactive particles would make it easy to build bomb shelters and }     make nuclear weapons obsolete. [11] } 11. Unfortunately poop, even old dried out poop, is not strong enough }     to survive a nuclear explosion. [12] } 12. Besides, do YOU want to live under a big pile of shit for the years }     it'll take for all the radioactive dust to settle? [13] } 13. I didn't think so.

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

> Dearest Oracle, whose vast omniscience no man could ever dream of > fathoming, I have had troubling dreams of late.  Not long ago, my wife > prepared ham for supper, and right on the package it stated that the > ham had been "cured."  What the hell did the ham *have*, and can I be > sure that there were no remnants in the meat I was served?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Stage Fright. } } Pigs are deathly afraid of being the center of attention, } such as sitting in the middle of a table, nude, with an } apple in their mouth. But once a swine is 'cured' of this } it rather likes, even demands, being noticed -- it is } then that it becomes a ham. } } You owe the Oracle some bacon bit parts.

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

> This is the last question you will ever receive from me.  Next time I'm > changing my identity so I'mm be more anonymous.  I grovel deeply to > your everlasting face and would lick your boots to a better polish if I > spoke better polish. > > When will I receive an anwser to my pervious questoin?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Door opens and three men in medieval costumes run in. } Man#1  :  Noooooobody expects the answer to your previous question } Man#2  :  For speed is our one weapon. } Man#3  :  And surprise } Man#1  :  Hold on, thats two weapons. } Man#3  :  Ok, we'll come in again } Man#2  :  No, lets not, it'll only turn into a Monty Python Skit. } } You will receive the answer to your previous question when you least } expect it. } } You owe the Oracle a gift of a herring.  And a shrubbery.  Oh, wait, } thats two gifts.  I'll come in again.

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

> After peering tentatively around the corner, a supplicant approaches > the Oracular Dais on rapidly shuffling knees. > > It is barefoot, barechested, dressed in a tattered, yet fresh, clean, > linen loinwrapping and a simple turban. It is scrubbed pink and clean, > and smells faintly of lye soap. > > The supplicant pushes a cafeteria tray along the path before it, and > the scraping sound it makes echoes loudly throughout the Great Hall, > nearly drowning the sobs and prayers that flow continuously from the > pathetic creature's blubblering lips. > > Every 4 knee-shuffles, the supplicant stops for a moment to grovel, > bang it's forehead into the floor, confess it's unworthiness, and > extoll another of the Infinite Virtues of the Benevolent Oracle. > > As if recognizing that the Oracle is beginning to lose patience, yet > not really, because it knows that the Omnipotent Oracle is Infinitely > Patient, the supplicant ceases banging and mumbling, and knee-shuffles > chop-chop, most rikki-tik to the foot of the Oracular Dais. > > It releases the cafeteria tray, which is heaped to overflowing with > fresh, individually wrapped Hostess Twinkies and an icy, chilled, > frosty sixpack of 20oz Jolt Cola, then clasps it's gnarled, > white-knuckled fists together to beg mercy of the Glorious One. > > Never raising it's tearful eyes from the ground, the supplicant makes > it's ignorance known... > > "O Enlightened Master, the least of your unworthy slave-worms Zotmeyai > Yambutoscum begs but a moment of your Eternal Existence before it meets > *Zotticular Demise* under the Casual Glance of your All-Seeing Eye, as > you scrub the foul ichor of this pitiful creature's scrawny carcass > from the face of the Universe, and restore it to the state of Utopian > Perfection that once was." > > "I most humbly beseecheth and prithee do tell, which end of a baby is > North?" > > Before the last word can escape the constricted throat of the > whimpering mass of quivering humanity before the Dais, it slams it's > forehead into the marble floor one last time, throws it's arms > protectively over it's turban, hunches into a ball, and passes water. > Quaking and sobbing in enraptured anticipation, it awaits destruction.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The Oracle regards the cowering figure before him with distaste. He } sits silently for a while, prolonging the supplicant's wait. When he } deems his pause sufficiently long, he draws himself up and intones: } } "O mortal, attachest thou a large lodestone to the infant. Suspendest } this from a string, and thou wilt see the stone as it pointeth North. } Thus wilt thou know the end of the child which is North." } } The supplicant raises its head, and again beats it on the floor, } mumbling delighted sounds of gratitude. } } "Know also, O lowly one," continues the Oracle, "that the possessive } pronoun 'its' hath no apostrophe. } } "Thou owest the Oracle... what thou hast on the tray." } } The supplicant emits a muffled squeal of ecstasy, and pushes the tray } forward toward the dais in offering. } } "Movest to thy left a little, wilt thou?" } } The supplicant obediently shuffles on its knees to the position } dictated, and waits expectantly. The Oracle pulls a small lever by his } seat, and watches as a trapdoor opens beneath the sprawled supplicant, } plunging it down the tunnel toward the temple's exit. } } The Oracle walks up to the tray lying on the floor, and transfers it to } a table by the throne. He motions to a worker to clean the floor, and } sits again on his seat to await the next supplicant.

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

> deer mister oracle man, > > my name is bobby.  i'm 5 yeers old.  my daddy let me on the compupter > too ask you a question. > > the tv was showing pictures of mr. scary man.  mommy said that he was > a bad man who hurt lots of people.  but secretly, he looks like santa > caluse to me e.  plesae tell me that i'm going to get my chrwismtas > presents this year.  t hank you mr. oracleman.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Hello Bobby, } } Over the last 348 days, you have, } } Thrown your food on the floor,              621 times } Thrown objects at Suzie,                    783 times } Asked Mommy when Daddy said "No,"           822 times } Asked Daddy when Mommy said "No,"          1252 times } Asked Grandma when both Mommy said "No"     700 times } Refused to Share with Timmy, Suzie or John 1531 times } flooded bathroom                              5 times } kicked the puppy                            137 times } eaten goldfish                                7 times } gotten on the computer with out permision   400 times } Set fire to house                             3 times } Lied about your age (you are 12 years old) } } Santa is giving you a lump of coal this year. } } However, Grandma is giving you } 100 marbles, a slingshot, 5 pounds of candy, } a new goldfish, a bicycle, a BB-rifle, } and a remote controlled Fire Engine. } } You Owe the Oracle, a tongue twisting question about } Woodchucks, and the amount of wood they can toss, } so he has an Official reason to ZOT! you.

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

> My great-aunt Margaret came to visit, and my mother warned me to > watch my language, and not to say anything wrong.  So when aunt > Margaret asked what I thought of her hat (what a dreadful thing > it was, with dead flowers painted black!) I spoke the truth and > told her it was ugly. > > Now my mother says I made a "fox pass".  She says it's a French > word that means a stupid mistake.  I'm baffled.  I can't find > fox pass in any French dictionary, and whatsmore, I can't see > that I did anything wrong in telling aunt Margaret the truth. > She needed to know how ugly her hat was.  I certainly couldn't > have lied to her! > > Why do the French say things like fox pass, and why won't they > explain it to me?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Despite the lack of a good grovel, or any grovel at all for that } matter, I have decided to answer your plea.  Dear supplicant, I detect } in your tone a sincere search for wisdom, and the dissemination of } wisdom is my greatest pleasure (well, that and target-ZOTting } w**dch*cks in the back forty... but I digress). } } The more literally-minded deity might choose to tell you that the } actual French term for which you are searching is "faux pas," } pronounced something like "fo pa'" and meaning "false step," a common } reference to social blunders and offenses. } } However, as is unknown by nearly all the immortals you humans are fond } of addressing, "fox pass" does indeed have a meaning of its own.  It is } a term derived from the observation of British fox-hunting.  The French } delighted in the event of the fox pass, in which the fox which is being } hunted literally traverses past the range and/or ability of the hunters } and thus becomes a free animal.  This invariably humiliated the } hunters, and as the French are incapable of actually being the agents } of someone else's humiliation they exalt merely in kicking the } humiliated whilst they are down. } } As has been celebrated throughout history, the craft of entertaining } guests has a long and somewhat vainglorious tradition.  The main job of } the hostess is to demonstrate to her guests how much better off she is } than they, and the job of the guests is to stay on the hostess's } elusive "good side," so that they might have the opportunity to invite } her to their own residence and continue the tradition in due course. } } As it is now used in the English language, a "fox pass" occurs when the } wily "good side" of the hostess has escaped apprehension, much like the } foxes in the English countryside of old.  This means that the guest } must endure the process of guesthood once more before they may have the } occasion to needlessly flaunt all of their material possessions in the } face of another. Being a guest is so universally despised that one will } often lie to the hostess in the attempt to reverse the circumstances at } their next meeting. } } Unfortunately, you let the fox get past. } } You owe the Oracle a visit.

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

> Oh great Oracle, whose literacy passes all bounds, please answer this > humble query: > > Mantle? Tubules? *Meatimals*?! What was Brunner thinking?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} It's a little known fact that Mr. Brunner was a lifelong proponent of } Cockney rhyming slang. Although not born within the sound of Bow's } Bells himself (nor indeed, anywhere in that legendary forgotten } city), he discovered it as a child and as with so many things in his } life, refused to put it down. In fact, he refused to communicate any } other way. Legal, literary, and psychology scholars all find much to } delight in when reading his last book contract, for instance, which } he insisted be writen entirely not only in rhyming slang, but in haiku. } } In any case, as serious students of linguistics are no doubt aware, } Cockney rhyming slang consists of replacing a word with another } word or phrase that rhymes with it. So, for example, "wife" becomes } "trouble and strife", "pissed" becomes "Shindler's List", and so forth. } Additionally, these phrases then become shortened, so a true cockney } might say something like "The trouble and I are going out to get } Shindlered". } } The above phrases in fact resolve to: } Mantle = Mantle and Fire = Conspire } Tubules = Tubular Bells = Smells } Meatimals = Meet 'em all at the railway station = Nation } } In combination they translate to: "Let's conspire to smell up the } nation!"  Which that sentence inargurably did. } } It was sentences like this that lead to Mr. Brunner's untimely death. } He was bludgeoned to death with "The Elements of Style" by assailiants } unknown, while surrounded by literary critics. } } You owe the Oracle 2000 words on "Subtext and symbolism in Fermat's } last theorem".