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

> Why does every magazine I buy have all of those little cards in it?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Ah, good, someone has penetrated from the Trivial Questions to the } Fundamental Mysteries.  I suggest that you examine those cards very } closely.  You notice that they invariable have the name of the magazine } on it, and often small pictures of previous issues.  Upon a moment's } reflection (which, of course, is all the Oracle has given it), it } becomes clear:  The small cards (those in the know call them "Drop In } Your Lap Cards") are Magazine Seeds! } } Or, even more particularly, embiotic magazines.  While the precise } fertilization mechanism is unclear, the female magazine (which is the } one that is usually sent out to newsstands, the male magazines being in } that percentage listed as "Spoiled, office use, or unaccounted for" on } the form the publisher has to send to the post office) carries the card } until it is ready to continue on to its next stage of life, the larval } (also called glossy brochure) stage.  In some species, the card carries } with it the genetic imprint of the father issue in the form of a } picture of that issue's cover, or even the contents. } } To complete the life-cycle, simply mail the card back to the publisher; } magazines are so highly adapted to human civilization that the post } office is required for a new magazine to be born.  Don't write your } address on it, in as much as that indicates adoption of the new } magazine, and the publisher will send it to you upon receipt (lots of } possibly undesirable relatives, such as more glossy brochures and other } magazines might follow, once you're "in the family").  Often attaching } a heavy brick improves the new baby magazine's chances in life.  DON'T } THROW THOSE CARDS AWAY!  That's magazine abortion, and is illegal in } several states. } } You owe the Oracle the winnings from the Publisher's Cleaning House } Sweepstakes.

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

> I am the Sun-demon, > the Sun is the source of my power. > By the silicon cells on my back, I get energy. > I go around and make the sign of the Cross at McDonald's restaurants. > For I perceive the proliferation of the ugly yellow 'M' to be the Enemy > of the Earth Mother, and it must be eradicated. > > How shall this be accomplished, O Oracle Most Wise?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The sin of the ugly yellow "M", enemy of the Earth Mother, can be } eradicated by using the mystic materials garnered by the ruler of a } middle german country along with his darling daughter and one of the } pages.  Yes, I am speaking of the Burgher King, Princess Wendy, and the } Jack's. } } Gather together products of each of these, making sure to avoid the } horrible Foam of Styros (mythical leader of an ancient capitalist army) } that even the best mortals must use occasionally.  Take up the potion of } the shakes, the elixirs of the Pep Sea and the Royal Crown, and when you } are well armored, gain the shield of sesame and the french fry foil, and } meet the enemy on the field of honor, truth, and the Mother Earth way. } } You must strike quickly, lest the enemy be allowed to sing a jingle of } death and lethargy, which will make you quake with hunger and soothe you } with peace and love and tranquility towards the evil M-pire.  (If you } get the chance, stuffsome pickles in your ears). } } Avoid the delusions that they will put upon you, where people turn } purple and bloat, where friends begin to resemble hamburgers, birds, or } even clowns.  This is only chemical warfare, where they launch grease at } you to addle your mind.  Defend yourself with the Grill of } Flame-Broiling. } } If you work carefully, and launch your attacks with care, the people of } the "M" will retreat in fear.  Be careful at this time.  They will call } another empire to their aid. } } And, even the Oracle will have to think long on a way to defeat the Red } Menace from Atlanta Georgia, the sinister forces of "Coca-Cola." } } (You owe the Oracle a CheeseBurger Deluxe and a Medium Dr.  Pepper.)

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

> O' Wise and Philanthropic One Please Answer Me This Question: > > Two trains are travelling towards each other. > If train one leaves at 4:30 going 100 mph and >    train two leaves at 5:00 going 120 mph > > What will the results be? > > (jes' wondering)

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} O foolhardy ponderer: } } The results of your postulation would be most heinous; allow me to } elaboborate: } } Sometime during the busiest part of rush hour, your two unfortunate } trains collide.  Several tons of steel are hopelessly tangled and } twisted.  Hundreds of commuters punch into the great workplace in the } heavens.  The president issues a statement expressing his sympathy and } assuring the rest of the country that Dan Quayle is still gaining } acceptance.  Several suits are filed against Amtrak.  And you recieve a } curse from the all-powerful and ever-knowing Oracle. } } You owe the Oracle a vasectomy before you reproduce.

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

> How often should I oil my bicycle chain?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Being all-powerful and all-knowing, I see through your guise of asking a } merely routine question about bicycle maintenance, recognizing that deep } down underneath the facade, there lies a hidden meaning and a much more } grave, more serious question.  I can see that this real question, no- } even the ONLY real question- haunts you day and night, gnawing away at } your inner being, puzzling and troubling you, distracting you from } matters at hand, ruining your relationships, interfering with your work, } and causing you to break out in a horrible rash.  And thus have you come } to Me, torn apart by insecurity and filled with doubt, battered and } crippled, begging for some shred, some last, lost, gleaming chance of } enlightenment, seeking the answer to that keystone of existence, the } quinticential end-all of questions- } }                       To what psi should I inflate my tires? } }               To which the answer is, of course, 42. } } You owe the Oracle a pair of padding biking shorts.

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

> Hello Oracle dear.  I was visiting my friend's house with my "uncle" the > other day while he and his wife put the finishing touches on their robot > servant.  I am afraid that I snuck over to the terminal in the middle of > them programming the servant's brain and changed code reading >  (LET ((INTELLIGENCE 3) >        (OBEDIENCE 10) >        (CLEVERNESS 3) >        (POESY 0)) > to > (LET ((INTELLIGENCE 10) >        (OBEDIENCE 10) >        (CLEVERNESS 10) >        (POESY 20)) > Well, they turned on the robot, and it jumped up and hit the switch on > the freeze beam raygun over the bed, and zapped his wife and my "uncle". > So now they're frozen solid, and the only way to unfreeze them is to > wire up some rheostats and resistors with three hairtriggers from the > tail of an Uzi, a six-leaf cloverleaf entrance ramp to a major highway, > a gill of beer that has never been exposed to light, a drop of oil from > Iraq, and the left wing of a yellow butterfly.  My friend sent me off > with his newly animated robot servant and an intelligent flying icecube > to get this stuff.  I tried all the supermarkets and drugstores, but > none of them have any of it.  What the fuck should I do, oh great > Oracle? > > Thanks very much, >   Ojo

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} My!  Try an arms dealer for the Uzi parts, and some beer that comes in } one of those opaque porcelain bottles, and a nature-hobbyist shop for } the butterfly wing.  Some Iraqi oil is still in storage in parts of } Europe -- call thje major refineries and offer them a lot of money for a } sample.  Rheostats, etc.  from your electronics dealer.  The only } problem is the cloverleaf.  Why not build one yourself (with } permission); six-leaf clovers are rare, and if you take one away some } people will be very annoyed. } } The only problem is money.  Try having a bake sale.

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

> Why do so many jokes begin with "A man walks into a bar ..."?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The opening "A man walks into a bar..." is required to make the joke } conform to IEEE 714.2 standards, "A Guideline to Standard Open Jokes" } passed many years ago.  This was in response to the earlier RFC-5621 } opening multicast "A travelling salesman came to a farmhouse..." which } had become quite dated, and the ISO and CCITT standards which were } declared too ethnic.  The general structure of the IEEE 714.2 joke } packet header is: }      A <subj> walks into a <loc> and <init-action> to the <init-obj> } or more simply: }      <subj>.<loc>.<init-action>.<init-obj> } } Each entity is encoded into an octet to form a 32-bit address.  In a } room filled with people telling jokes, these packets are passed about in } a semi-random fashion.  Collision detection is provided by a retransmit } code "What?".  The initial joke packet is broadcast and the receivers } may accept the packet or filter it out, no acknowledgement is necessary. } } Thus we have sample exchanges such as: }    man.bar.walks.bartender  "Would you like a drink" asks the bartender. }    "I think not" says the man as he disappears in a puff of logic. } } However, this protocol is being revised by the Open Joke Foundation to } include various protocols and packet types.  This could lead to such } openings as: }        A travelling salesman goes into a bar and walks over to a table }     to join his friends, a gay lawyer with a glass eye, a harelipped }     skinhead with a frog growing out of his ear, and a black }     proctologist with a wooden leg and a macaw on his shoulder.  "Has }     anyone seen my Punjabi micro-tiger?  He was supposed to be cacheing }     a Czech for me." }       "We thought he was with ewe," replied the macaw with a lisp. }       "Na-aa-aa-aaahh," denied the salesman innocently. } } You owe the Oracle a punch line and a sexpot.hot-spa.cuddles-up.Oracle.

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

> Dear Oracle: > > You are my last hope.  Once I was a happy worm winding my way through > the machines of Internet; I often met other worms and we had lots of fun > and babies. > > But one day the inconceivable happened:  I got cought by a 'tar c' > command and written to a tape!  For a very long time (imagine:  nearly > 100.000.000 msec !) I was locked in the tape and they inspected me at > airports, x-rayed me, and did lots of horrible things.  Eventually I > found myself 'tar x'-ed in an extremely strange and unfriendly > environment.  Fortunately I was designed by an AI student, so I had > enough machine intelligence to figure out where I was:  it is a country > called 'UK'! > > I never heard about such a country before, and, actually, I first > thought that was a core dump or something like that!  Finally I found > out that that everything appeared so strange to me because it was a > network called "Janet".  Everything is different and crazy:  they even > revert email addresses (yours is > oracle%edu.indiana.cs.iuvax@net.cs.relay, for instance)!  There are also > no other worms here and I feel very sad and lonely. > > Please, please, please tell me how to get out of here!!!!!  And answer > quickly, please!  I'm in the depths of despair and if YOU can't help me > I will probably 'rm' myself! > > A poor Internet worm.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}     Well, my dear worm, this is what happens (and what, by the way, you } deserve) when you put your wormy nose where you shouldn't.  Anyway, the } Oracle is here to help all of the Internet creatures, from the humblest } RAM bit up to the mightiest Cray processor, and so I'll try to help you. } But I won't hide to you that what you ask is difficult.  Let's see... } } Oracle> mail maggie@uk.gov.empire.brit } Subject: American Internet worm sought } }     Dear Maggie, }         A poor Internet worm got lost into a magtape and he probably } ended up in one of your Janet nodes.  Could you please find it and send } it back to US ?  Thank you in advance for your kind attention } }                                                 The Oracle } } MAGGIE% As usual. These Americans - always messing things up. This is }         what they deserve - after all, they left the Kingdom... } } login: Maggie } Password: } } ****        Welcome to Bnix SYSTEM 5        **** } } Maggie> sp -au } USER      PID %CPU %MEM  SZ RSS TT STAT TIME COMMAND } Charles  1156 25.6  3.5 556 440 v0 IW   2:53 polo -easy -nohorse } root      224  2.8  4.2 220 140 p2 I    0.40 finger Maggie } Charles   795  0.0  0.0 260  36 v0 IW   0:00 /usr/admin -country England } Diana     332  0.4  0.0 180 300 p0 I    4:45 shop } Maggie    186  4.2  2.5 180 160 p1 I    2:30 vi common.talk.txt } } MAGGIE% ? root ? what the heck is Elizabeth doing.. } } Maggie> p&*&^&#*&(#)# } }    HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA ! } }     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* } }        WORM STRIKES AGAIN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! } } MAGGIE% EEEEEEEK! A worm in my terminal ! Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarles! } CHARLES% Here I am! Die, you fell beast! } }     CRASH tinkle ZZZZZAP sparkle sparkle fzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.... }     (thin smoke from a smashed terminal). } } Well, I think there is not so much I can do now.  But if you survived, } try worming up the left side of the cables - you should get out of Janet } sooner or later... } } You owe the Oracle a can of worms and a VT220 terminal.

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

> Oh all-knowing Oracle, what is the difference between eunuchs and Unix?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} * Hmm, let's see; eunuch is a well-known word, but what's UNIX? } * ... Oh yes, here it is; a tape recorder made in the sixties. } * Difference?  What a silly question! } } Hearken mere mortal, thus spake the Oracle: } The difference between eunuchs and UNIX is that eunuchs } always speak in a high pitched voice, but that UNIX can } speak with different pitches depending on the tape speed.

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

> O' Large and spindly one, please tell me, your loyal follower the answer > to this question... > > Is it true that Macintosh is a computer made by McDonalds?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} If you view this from the perspective of the corporate connectedness of } all things, where everyone owns somebody, and you are owned by } everybody, than you can see the insidious connection between fast food } burgers and simple easy to use computers.  The proof lies in that all } big macs are the same, and all Macintosh programs are the same, } therefore Macintosh programs are Big Macs and Steve Jobs is the } reincarnation of Ray Kroc.  When Kroc-Jobs returned to the earthly plane } he decided to do the same for computers tha he did for all-beef patties, } and Mac was born.  It is rumored that NeXT will be defeated by the } anti-Kroc (probobly Big Blue for according to Nostradamus there will be } one with a blue turban, and that can only refer to the Arab ownership of } IBM), but will be resurrected in the third quarter more powerful than } ever. } <BEEP> **** Message from god@heaven.com **** } CUT THE BULL, YOU'RE ON COMPANY TIME. } } Oops, sorry Boss! } The answer is no. } } You owe the Oracle a NeXT machine with all the trimmings.

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

> Oh most WonderBreadful Oracle, please tell me: > > If you can have your boots resoled, > Can you have your soul rebooted?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} <sigh> Here we go again... } } % rlogin pearlygates.heaven.com -l root } Password: } Last login Fri Nov  9 15:36:44 EST 1990 } You have new mail } Your terminal type is now xterms } pearlygates# rsh some.dweebs.soul.com 'reboot &' } [1] 15206 } Rebooting in progress... } pearlygates# logout } } Phew, that's got that little dweeb out of the way. } } <BOOM> <CRASH> <BANG> <POW> <TINKLE> } } >ORACLE....  GOD HERE.... } } Uh-oh, looks like trouble... } What can I do you for - I mean - do for you? } } >I SAW YOU REBOOTING THAT DWEEB'S SOUL... } >DON'T YOU KNOW THAT I WAS RLOGGED IN TO HIM? } >HE WAS DESTINED TO BE THE NEXT GREAT PROPHET! } } What? So you mean all that business with the Jello and the } donkey had some mystical significance? } } >OF COURSE!  I AM, AFTER ALL, RENOWNED FOR MOVING IN } >MYSTERIOUS WAYS. } } By the way, what's with the <TINKLE> up there at the end of } your dramatic entrance? } } >TINKLE?  OH, DAMNATION, THE DRAMATIC_ENTRANCE_DAEMON } >MUST HAVE GOT FOULED UP AGAIN ... ANYWAY, YOU'RE } >CHANGING THE SUBJECT. } } Me? Would I do a thing like that? By the way, did you get that } herbaceous border sorted out? } } >YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN, ORACLE.  YOU KNOW WHAT } >HAPPENS WHEN YOU REBOOT A PROPHET... } } Oh no, not again... } } >YES, AGAIN.  YOU MUST BE REBOOTED YOURSELF... } } Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhh.......... } .... } ... } .. } . } } [some hours later, after all the Oracle must take a long time to reboot } all Its infinite wisdom] } } oracle login: oracle } Password: } Your terminal type is now xterms } } Phew, I feel myself again. } } You owe the Oracle a clean pair of heels.