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

> (cross-posted to rec.guns) > > What is the season, out-of-state license fee, and bag limit on ex-wives > in the state of New Hampshire?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} First, you have to say the magic words. } } "Uh, abracadabra?" } } No, try again. } } "Oh, I know.  Please?" } } No, but you're getting closer.  Try again. } } "Great Oracle, please answer the question of this lowly mortal who is }  not worthy to sniff your shoe trees." } } Now you got it.  I shall answer. } } The traditional season is late fall, after the leaves have fallen.  The } lack of foliage makes them easier to spot.  License fees are usually } minimal, and the limit is one ex-wife per day (although mormons are } allowed up to three). } } Let us follow the brave hunter into the forest, to witness this } exciting sport. } } He quietly creeps up to a tree, which looks out on a clearing.  He } positions himself behind the tree, quiets his breathing, and gently } pulls out the ex-wife call.  He blows into it and the sound of } "alimony! alimony!" echos through the woods.  There!  What was that?  A } rustling from the bushes a ways down.  He sees some sparkles of light } and figures it may be another hunter, so he holds his fire.  But now } the creature steps out of the cover and he can see that the sparkling } is the diamonds given to the ungrateful bitch months before by her } husband.  He aims and prepars to fire... but holds, as he sees she is } not alone.  There are large, shambling forms accompanying her - } lawyers!  It is not unexpected for an ex-wife in the wild to be } surrounded by one or more of these parasites, but it is always a } surprise to see them.  He aims again and fires!  Damn, hit a lawyer. } That's ok though, it's always open season on lawyers and there's no } limit.  But now the others are scattering.  *BLAM* He quickly fires } again and this time hits the target! } } Now that he has killed the ex-wife what will he do with it?  Many men } quickly stuff and mount their kills, but trust me stuffing and mounting } is much more fun with a live woman. } } So there you have it.  You should keep in mind, of course, that similar } fees and limits apply to the hunting of ex-husbands, so be sure to wear } something bullet proof. } } You owe the Oracle 50% of your posessions, unless you remembered to } draw up a pre-question agreement.

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

> Is there a word that describes sexual longings toward pregnant women?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Gaah. ANOTHER supplicant who doesn't grovel. I've half a mind to start } squashing your types like the insolent bugs you are... } } However, to get to your question: Yes, Virginia, there is a word that } describes sexual longings toward pregnant women. This word is } "gravidasty". } } There are several theories about what motives cause gravidasty. } Currently, the most prominent school of thought is that the perpetrator } of gravidasty has an overwheming ambition to get his pregnant partner's } picture splattered all over the front pages of the National Enquirer, } Weekly World News, and other papers of that ilk, along with an } appropriate headline: MY BABY WAS BORN PREGNANT! MY HUSBAND(or PARTNER) } SEXUALLY ABUSED MY UNBORN CHILD!! } } Needless to say, anyone seeking this type of fame is suffering from a } grand delusion; physiologically speaking, this is impossible --- } unless, of course, you or your partner happens to be Elvis. } } You owe the Oracle two boxes of blue suede Pampers.

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

> Tell me,o wise dude from the east, > > How many ghoti are there in the sea?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Plenty. There are more ghoti in the sea than ewe, mni, and all your } ghresnez put together, and that's even leaving some out. While there } are not as many ghoti in the sea as there are sptoughrz in the sky, } there are way more ghoti in the sea than Tsheisneempisne in China, } which should give you some grasp of how this thing scales. } } You owe the Oracle the complete works of G.B. Shaw, and a haddock.

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

> Oh most sage Oracle of Delphi, wise beyond all space and time, > of whom I am not worthy to gaze upon your splendid and bespeckled feet, > nor to swim with the other gods in your backyard pool, tell me... > > I just helped my girlfriend sell her old car and buy a "new" used one > thats a heck-of-a deal.  She says she doesn't know how to repay me > for my time and diligence {reading classified, phoning, test-drives}. > > What will she do to balence our relation in the cosmos?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Well, since she's your girlfriend there are a number of ways she can } repay you. } } - She can marry you,  have your children,  ruin her life for } you  -- but she might be smarter than that,  so try this with } caution. } } - She can buy a "new" used car for you. } } - She can be honest and tell you that she doesn't really care (not the } best of deals but an OK one.) } } - She can stop seeing that other guy. } } - She can do that certain something you have been begging her to -- } although it's not as fun as you think. } } - She can show you her test results (but you have to promise her not } to be too brutal.) } } - If she really appreciates what you did for her, she can give you a } nice hug and a kiss and forget about the car -- because in about two } months, that car will need a major repair job. } } You owe The Oracle a good debugger.

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

> Oh, great and wise and bulbous Oracle, who knows all, eats all, and > belches all, tell me this.  Who do I successfully shed the 30 pounds > I'm carrying around with me (and I don't mean English currency)?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} You mean "how do I...."  not "who do I...", I assume.  Come on now! } You don't need to lose *that* much!  A few, maybe,  but 30??? Nooo.... } If I were you, I would learn to live with it.  After all.... } } Hey!  What' you looking at?? You're looking at my gut, aren't you? } Well, I'm working on it!!! } } You owe The Oracle a new diet system.

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

> where did Giligan get the milk for all of the coconut cream pies that > Marianne made for him (and where did they bake them)

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} A factoid that is unknown even to serious scholars of 1960's } culture, but that is known to me, the Great One (to whom you } FORGOT to grovel, you swine), is that "Gilligan's Island" wasn't } just a television show.  It was real!  The startling authenticity } of native practices and customs was due to the Professor's } remarkable ability to set up a closed-circuit camera and record } all of the events for Filmways Television.  The only phenomenon } of the '60's to even approach this kind of cultural anthropology } was "The Beverly Hillbillies," which, as everyone knows, starred } a real Tennessee mountain family with bad teeth and raging } hormones. } } Bob Denver (aka "Gilligan") was actually an anthropology major at } the University of Chicago doing field research on what happens } when rich people are forced to adapt to native culture in the } South Pacific.  Once or twice a month, milk, Kraft Processed } Cheese Slices, Wonder Bread, Welch's Grape Jelly, Hostess } Ho-Ho's, Mutual of Omaha life insurance policies and other 1960's } staples were airlifted in on a secret part of the Island, where } Gilligan then mysteriously retrieved them and distributed them to } his unsuspecting subjects.  He then took extensive notes on the } results. } } Mary Ann didn't actually *bake* the pies--that would have made } her too suspicious.  She used a Pillsbury no-bake filling (not } unlike Jello 1-2-3), poured it into a premade graham cracker } crust, and was never the wiser! } } When Bob "Gilligan" Denver published his dissertation, of course, } then the show was aired to the amazement of the } television-watching public, which reveres it to this day.  Not } since "McHale's Navy" gave us harrowing, true-to-life } re-enactments of brave men in battle has a program so faithfully } reproduced the braver side of our noble culture. } } You owe the Oracle a good tape of "Dobie Gillis."

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

> Oh great and wonderful Oracle, whose toenails I wish dearly to > pedicure: > > Why is is that I see purple spots on the walls of the urinal when > I go to the bathroom in the morning? Is it just me, or is this > something all males experience?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} And the oracle spake thus to the manly men below: } } The purple spots you complain of are in actuality a common and harmless } variety of slime mold common to all men's bathrooms.  The species, } Quinibeaus Scrotsum is said to have increased prevalence in bathrooms } of the college variety because of that rare mixture of beer, stray } spray, foot fungus, day-old-puke, and other party remnants that are } needed for the substaining of this life form.  Morning being the usual } feeding time in the scrotsum's biological clock, this is when they are } most likely to be sighted.  Do not be dismayed at the sight of these } wonderful beasts, as they are often what keep the other more dangerous } molds and fungi from taking over in men's bathrooms. } } You owe the oracle a fifth of Crown Royal (for the the purpose of } disinfection! We swear it!)

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

> Oh wise and noble oracle, king of heaven and earth, > >      Have you ever been compared to the OUija board???

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} No, but indeed I used to DABBLE in them. } } Picture the scene . . . } } >several yuppies and their SO's gathered in a stylish SoCal }  living room, loft prominently decorated.  A half-empty bottle }  of Martini and Rossi Asti Spumante is in evidence< } } Y1: Oh, Mighty Ouija board, will my wife have a baby this year? } } The pointer trembles and starts a slow deliberate waltz around } the board. } } BOARD:  A-N-T-I-C-H-R-I-S-T } } The onlookers sit back stunned. } } Y2: Oh, Might Ouija board, will I get married this year? } } Again the pointer begins its journey. } } BOARD: H-A-H-A-H-A-H-A-G-A-S-P-U-M-P-A-T-T-E-N-D-A-N-T } } One yuppette sits back in a huff. } } Y3: Oh, Might Ouija board, how will my business trip go? } } The pointer again trembles and traces out the letters -- } } BOARD: M-I-D-N-I-G-H-T-E-X-P-R-E-S-S } } It is now Yuppie 4's turn.  She regards the board with a } jaundiced eye, tossing her luxuriant chestnut hair over } one shoulder provocatively.  Her long, nimble fingers lay } atop the pointer.  She is dressed stylishly, and tastefully. } The lines of a picture-perfect figure are not hidden by her } slim turtleneck, and were she not sitting on her well-rounded } derriere, the two male participants would long ago have } suffered cardiac infarction. } } Y4: Oh, Mighty Ouija board (her rich contralto intones) who will }     my next serious relationship be with? } } The pointer shakes violently for several moments and begins to } vibrate back and forth. } } BOARD: Z-E-U-S } } Then: } } BOARD: N-O-O-R-A-C-L-E } } Then: } } BOARD: I-S-A-I-D-Z-E-U-S } } Then: } } BOARD: O-R-A-C-L-E-D-A-M-N-I-T } } Then: } } BOARD: } Y-O-U-W-O-U-L-D-N-T-E-V-E-N-K-N-O-W-W-H-A-T-T-O-D-O-W-I-T-H-H-E-R } } Then: } } BOARD: O-H-W-O-U-L-D-N-T-I-R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R-W-H-A-T-L-I-S-A-S-A-I-D } } Then: } } BOARD: } L-I-S-A-D-O-E-S-N-T-K-N-O-W-W-H-A-T-S-H-E-S-T-A-L-K-I-N-G-A-B-O-U-T } } Then: } } BOARD: I-S-A-I-D-S-H-E-S-M-I-N-E-Y-O-U-L-I-T-T-L-E-G-I-T } } Then: } } BOARD: O-H-Y-E-A-H } } Then: } } BOARD: Y-E-A-H } } Then: } } BOARD: O-H-Y-E-A-H } } Then: } } BOARD: Y-E-A-H } } Then: } } BOARD: O-H-Y-E-A-H } } Upon which point the yuppies all get sick of the bickering and throw } the board out, where a little girl names Regan who lives down the } street picks it out of the trash and brings it home.  One male yuppie } does suffer a fatal heart attack upon the brunette woman's rising, and } the other severe palpitations. } } You owe the Oracle the brunette's phone number.  >Shut up, Zeus.<

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

> Tell me, oh wisest oracle of all the net.gods out there, please deign > to answer the question of a humble supplicant: > > What does a blind person see when he dreams? > > Thank you, oh big one.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh the dreams of the blind and what that they sees } Smiling faces and places and puppy dog knees } } Birds in the ocean and fish in the air } Flapping their fins without even a care } } Six legged horses and ultra-red roses } Kennedys caught in embarrassing poses } } Whales crooning Dylan and C code compiling } Enquirer psychics badly divining } } Big bombs and Saddams and tanks slowly creeping } Don't that they wish they were just calmly sleeping } } Trumps in the poorhouse and all Congress in jail } Flying pink elephants not lending them bail } } Smiling Dick Nixons with nicely signed pardons } Porn stars a' groaning with huge throbbing <<CENSORED>> } } Ollie North writing and Reagan recalling } TV commercials with old women falling } } Zebra striped hippos and planets revolving } 'round gold plated roads and witches dissolving } } Oracle's done writing bad meter and rhyme } I'm going to stop now while I still have a mind } } You owe the Oracle autographed copies of all of Dr. Seuss' books

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

> O mighty Oracle, whose knowledge exceeds that of even Alex Trebek, > > Who owns the North Pole?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Microsoft owns the North Pole.  I'm surprised that someone who tries to } keep up with current developments in the field doesn't peruse the } Business and Technology section of their local screamsheet.  Here's the } article: } } MS On Top of the World, says CEO Gates } Redmond } In a surprise move today, Microsoft CEO Bill Gates announced Farwa snod } bar gull fran nert nert poofoo.  One of his aides kicked the microphone } stand at which point Mr. Gates made a bit more sense.  Gates expanded } on his opening remark, saying that the takeover was a result of a crack } team of guerilla squatters who had camped on the site for the past } seven years, thus gaining ownership of the land by means of the } oft-forgotten subparagraph (G) in section 2. of the International } Homestead Act. "This is an exciting new field for us," Gate said, } adding that, "At this point, we are the only software company prepared } to offer services to customers above the 80th parrallel." } } The squatters had no comment, other than to say how surprised they were } to encounter publicity for Windows3.0 even in their isolation.  "The } subliminal messages in the Aurora Borealis came as quite a shock," one } squatter (who asked that his name not be revealed until after he's had } a chance to negotiate for radio play rights) said. } } C'mon, it's not even Thanksgiving yet.  You owe the Oracle a question } that doesn't involve Christmas, Santa Claus, or any of that stuff.