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

> O Great, Wonderful, Stupendous, Colassal, Deity-About-Town! > > How is it that the less Ross Perot says, the more people think he makes > a good President?  Does this mean I can tape my mouth shut and get > instantly elected?  If so, do you think duct tape sends the wrong > message?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} [Diety-About-Town?  You obviously haven't seen my schedule lately. }  Between the whipped honey-cream parties and answering questions, I }  barely have time to leave the house long enough to trim the hedges. }  You wouldn't believe how fast those pesky Triffids can grow...] } } Indeed, the more Perot says, the less desireable a candidate he } becomes. This is known as the "husha-you-face" factor amongst } politicians.  Carter seriously wished he had never talked to _Playboy_. } Nixon really wishes he hadn't been *quite* so tape-happy.  You will } notice Reagan said practically *nothing* during his two terms and } enjoyed one of the highest public approval ratings this century. } Contrast this with Quayle's inability to open his mouth without } toe-tickling his tonsils.  Yup, definite trend here. } } Face it, you humans were never designed to _talk_ so much.  "How's the } weather" indeed.  "Read my lips."  NO NO NO!  You people were meant to } be highly telepathic and in touch with your surroundings.  Do you know } how long the Big Guy had to work to get all of that into your tiny } brain cavities? So what do you people do?  Ignore it and chatter away } like monkies.  It's enough to drive a diety crazy. } } You can feel free to try the "tape measure" to ensure your instant } electability. Don't use duct tape..it suggests lameness.  Trust me, } however, you _don't_ want the job.  (I'm omniscient, remember?  I know } the future...and 1994 is going to be a _bad_ year for anybody } within...oh...30 megatons of the DC area. You have been warned.) } } You owe the Oracle the missing 18 minutes.

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

> Oh Oracle, great and wise, who put the thunder into thunder-thighs, > who has never been one to comprimise, who's very brain has the biggest > size, please answer this question: > > How does Thing from the Addams family eat?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Notre Dame (AP) }    Tonight, movie fans around the country are saddened by the apparent } death of Thing, the walking hand best known from his movie role } in "The Addams Family." }    Thing, age 34, had not been seen in public since the release of } his last movie in late 1991. His last public appearance was as a } bit-part during the Academy Awards show, where he walked a small } wagon across the stage. }     "I'm really going to miss him. That Thing gave me endless } amounts of pleasure", said Maude "Morticia" Addams, who owned } the house where Thing lived. Addams added "Playing with Thing } really gave new meaning to the term 'magic fingers'." }     "Personally, I always suspected that thing had a drinking } problem," reports Walter "Gomez" Addams, Thing's long-time companion. } "I'd see him get up in the morning, crawl off Morticia, my wife, } go out to the kitchen and pour himself three fingers of Brandy. } He did this almost everyday." }     "I'm glad he's dead," said Marion "Fester" Addams, who also } lived with Thing. "It was better than the life he was leading. } I remember how distraught Thing was, during the last couple } months of his life. }      It all started when Thing went to a Taco Bell. The sign } in the restroom said "wash your hands". Since he had only one, } this caused him such severe metal anguish that we had to put } him in the hospital. He was never his old self after that. } He started developing hangnails, hitchhiking, hairy palms." }       Fester also reports that Thing was under a doctor's } care, and had been taking massive amounts of Digitalis, } a heart drug, for the last couple of months. }       While Thing was widly regarded as a cornerstone } of the motion picture industry, many critics point out } that he was often typecast in roles where no one else } would give him a hand. }       It is also unknown what Thing ever ate, although } it is suspected that he lived off finger-foods. } } You owe the Oracle a subscription to the Hollywood Free Press, } and dinner at Spago's.

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

> Oh great and wonderous Oracle, Lord of Knowledge, Trove of Wisdom, > King of golden Data - > > From far foreign Countries I have come, through Rain and Snow > and burning Hail, past orcish Legions, hellish Hounds, and Droves of > Lawyers rabid - > > To beg from you a Favor small, a Token mere of mental Light, for in > Darkness I do wander - > > How is it that, how can it be, while all God's Children have but one, > to make brown Piles and fertile Plants, to soil the Earth and stench > the Lands - > > That Creature now with Heads a-two, to push me here and pull to you, > has none and yet does eat so much, and can not set those Smells a-flow, > though enternally the But of Jokes - > > Doolittle now, did he know, and if yes, did he tell You so, why the > Pushme-Pull-you has no Hole, and how, oh how, do they go? To where > vanishes the Food they eat, the Grasses green, the tough, hard Meat?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} > Oh great and wonderous... } } Not bad. Five out of ten for grovelling. } } > ...Rain and Snow... } } Hmmm, you look to me like a rich yuppie in a warm } residence at an exclusive university, where orcs and } hell hounds couldn't possibly afford the tuition } fees. However, you *are* surrounded by law students. } That is suffering enough. } } > ...a Favor small... } } For me that is. By mortal standards, equivalent to } abolishing the US deficit or raising Quayles IQ. } } Mortal, you owe the Oracle: } } "Orrie!" } } Oh, the answer, yes. Thanks Lisa. } } The two mouths of the Pushme-Pullyou connect to a } single stomach, making the beast, mathematically } speaking, a tube. Around midnight it quietly inverts } itself, revealing the normally hidden internal organs } and allowing it to offload the undigested portions } of grass and meat. } } The Oracle also suggests you cease to wander in Darkness. } You are likely to step in a brown pile, and while not } stenching the Lands, certainly stenching your living } quarters. } } Mortal, you owe the Oracle: Dr Doolittles topology thesis.

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

> Why me?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh, miserable little supplicant, so miserable that thou art beyond even } the need to grovel, the Oracle grants you answers to both your } questions, for the oracle is generous: } } To your first question, "Why?" the Oracle answers: } } It is said of Master Stallman, that Master Minsky once chanced to meet } him in a cafeteria. Stallman asked, "What can we do about the state the } computer industry is in?" and Minsky took his tray to the head of the } line and put it down and picked it up again. He said, "See? Push! Pop! } It works!" } } At that moment, Stallman was enlightened. } } To comprehend the Babbage-nature of this, you must know that cafeteria } trays are generally an off-white color. } } In short, then: Because. } } To your second question, "Me?" the Oracle answers: } } Yes, you. } } You owe the Oracle a good shave for under a nickel.

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

> oh my i think i'm in trouble > > i saw a little bottle that said "drink me" so I did > and then o jeez did i ever start to feel funny > and then everything around me got really big and i > think i'm trapped on the wrong side of a mirror and > they're after me and want me for tea and my poor > doggie is here with me and we are scared scared and > can't get back home, oh dear oracle what can we do?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Your failure to grovel is most appalling, but I'm fascinated by the } challenge of your seemingly complex predicament. } } First, don't panic.  You're currently lost in a new top-secret project } at Disney World that's planned to be the central attraction of } Loopyland.  The theme of this sector of the park is the illogical } combination of fictional places from family-oriented books and movies. } You stumbled in there after snarfing 15 corn dogs and then riding on } The Mad Hatter's Wild Tea Party continuously for an hour. } } The attraction you're bumbling about in is provisionally called "Dumb } Blonde Wizard Through the Wonder-Glass in Oz".  However, since "Dumb } Blonde" sounds a lot like "Dumbo", Michael Eisner (the current Disney } CEO) plans to eventually shorten the name to "Glass Oz" in an effort to } avoid confusion with the flying elephant.  Ingeniously enough, he also } hopes the name "Glass Oz" will appeal to the young rock-n-roll crowd } who Eisner hopes will mistake the attraction for some sort of deviate } David Bowie wax museum and dance hall. } } Anyway, back to your predicament: To get out, just kick the dog three } times and say repeatedly, "There's no place like Disney World," over } and over until a park employee hears the dog's yelps of pain and comes } to investigate. } } You owe the Oracle a week's vacation at a theme park in Kansas.

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

> Why is this Modem so f*cking slow? > Why is my bank account so low? > Why does the wind so heav'ly blow? > Why is this poem rhyming, though?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Your modem is so slow, my slave } Because inside it when the city did pave } Is a piece of asphalt, so gooey and black } That my CPU had to screen itself from your flack: } } My supplicant, lower still will your bank account go } When I'm through with it, for didn't you know } That in your human, simple inferiority } You forgot to grovel in front of your God (that's me) } } And the wind, so heavily will it scream } That like a vacation will a Sahara sandstorm seem } And you shall know the Oracles wrath } Until you'd rather a slug be than in its path } } Unless off the rag does Lisa come } For life with her now is really no fun } When this time of month comes rather *I'd* be a slug } Than have this frusteration, and my own electric cord tug. } } You owe the Oracle a copy of "Annabel Lee"

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

> Oh Oracle Great and Wise > With the deepest deep brown eyes > Whose knowledge is deep and whose wisdom is grand > who can open a bottle with one hand > > I ask you this with my deepest sincerity > for a word that rhymes with that is a rarity > Please answer me this with the kind of truth > that I haven't heard from Washington since before my youth > > I am a white male about 6'3" > I could lose some weight, that's easy to see > but no visible scars, no facial tatoos > just a loop earring and a case of the blues > > I fell head over heels with a woman from Boston > and I learned for myself what waiting could cost one > We shared political ideals and an interest in Green > Let me get to my point and you'll see what I mean > > I asked her out a year and a half ago > I didn't ask again; a mistake I know > except once for lunch, when she didn't eat > I don't recall but I don't think she ate meat > > But she graduated about a month ago > and I have a full year left, you know > She'll spend the summer here, then travel east > Where I think I'll pass her, driving west from DC > > I have an internship in a lobbying group > This quandry has me thrown for a loop > I want to get close, make up for my errors > but knowing my past, I dream in terror > > I've lived all over, never for more than four years > And each move came with many tears > because in every move since my birth > my best friends drop off the face of the earth. > > So I ask you, grand Oracle of Usenet > who I cannot fully describe, I'll bet > Is there any way I can buck the odds, sir? > and actually find a way to connect with her?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The Oracle has got hip to free verse.  Cool, cats.  Beat me, baby, four } to the bar: } } I saw the best Supplicants of my generation destroyed by romance, }    starving hysterical lobbyists } dragging themselves through D.C. at dawn looking for a woman from }    Boston, } angelheaded tall white males burning for the ancient heavenly }    connection to buck the odds } who quandary and loop earrings and blue sat up preparing case studies }    in the supernatural boredom of a Washington studio apartment }    listening to MTV and drinking Diet Coke } who moved every four years only to move again womanless and Green to }    the visionary Main Streets of the wild naked grandmothers of Kansas } who howled on their knees before VT100's to the Oracle, screaming }    mantras of queries about politically correct lost loves } who jumped off the Washington Monument, twisted wrecked hipsters on the }    grass grunting out their last "OM" when the Usenet Oracle from the }    starry dynamo screamed truth in their blasted ears: "No way, cat!"

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

> Oh wise and allknowing intelligence who guides our destiny, do tell...` > > Chemical Engineering is killing me.  I have six quarters remaining. > should I tough it out? > > Thanks Mr. Oracle.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Hmmm, pardon me for a moment while I boot up the old crystal ball } (I always use antique methods for guidance counselling). } } }CBALL.ORACLE.DIV } }LOGIN PLEASE: oracle } }PASSWORD: } } } }YES, YOUR WORSHIP: future chem-eng six-quarters-left } } } }Optimistic: DOW LETS YOU DO GREAT THINGS - Supplicant will find } }  gainful employment while discovering chemical fertilizer that } }  allows third-world countries to triple food production.  Said } }  countries then quadruple their population, start a massive war } }  when the food runs out, resulting in massive ecological damage } }  and widespread death.  Supplicant retires as a millionaire. } } } }Middle of the road: Supplicant will find gainful employment as a } }  lab technical staffer in an industrial research facility. Supplicant } }  killed while during invasion of lab by eco-terrorists. } } } }Pessimistic: Supplicant will find gainful employment while discovering } }  pesticide effective against most disease-carrying insects. Pesticide } }  is then used worldwide, and only later discovered to cause normally } }  beneficial microbes to mutate into virulent diseases. Supplicant } }  retires as a millionaire, only to be eaten by his next hamburger. } } } }YES, YOUR WORSHIP: logout } } } }CBALL.ORACLE.DIV } }LOGIN PLEASE: } } Hmm, two chances out of three to retire as a millionaire.  I say } go for it! } } You owe the oracle $1.50 (your last six quarters)

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

> Oh Oracle, most wise! > Can you bring me some flowers?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The supplicant finishes typing his puerile question, straightens and } stretches, removes his thick black-rimmed glasses for cleaning, picks } his nose with a spare little finger, tastes the result speculatively, } and takes a sip of his (now cold) coffee. } } He stops.  He becomes aware of a distant rumbling noise, rapidly coming } closer.  For the first time in many hours he prises himself out of his } chair, as his screen-blanker kicks in with a sigh of relief.  He makes } his way to the window and pulls back the heavy curtains, squinting in } the bright sunlight and sneezing violently with the clouds of dust he } raises. } } Dimly through the grimy glass he can make out a huge mountain.  That } wasn't there last time he looked, just last, er, year.  And this is no } ordinary mountain.  Ordinary mountains do not have rivers of lava } coursing down their flanks towards a house which has no right being } there anyway.  Nor do they have enormous waterfalls, coming out of } nowhere, pouring in unimaginably huge tracts towards his windows. } } His last thought, if it could be called such, before being smashed to } oblivion by a cataract flowing in Oracular proportions, and then being } roasted alive and embalmed forever by the flow of molten rock, is that } this will be the last time he underestimates the Oracle.  Funny how } somebody can be so wrong all of their life and then finally get it } right when it no longer counts.  If the Oracle can interpret a word in } a different way, he always will..........

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

> Oh, Master of Calendars, Grand Oracle of them all, please help me with > my trite problem: > > Here in the United States, we have to some extent unified our > observation of federal holidays from work to Mondays.  For example, we > celebrate birthdays of important people not on their actual anniversary > dates but on the nearest Monday.  This gives us more three-day weekends > and unifies the number of holidays between the governmental and private > sectors. > > I think it's a great idea.  More three-day weekends and the week after > returning to work is a four-dayer(That makes it easier to recover from > all that partying and stuff.)  But my company also observes Good > Friday(I think because of its origin in a heavily Catholic country.) > Well, sure it's a guaranteed three-day weekend but the week after is > five days long. Why can't I convince my management to observe Good > Friday on the nearest Monday?  I mean, hell, I'm not religious, except > about You of course.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Alas, the answer is too simple, so I'll pose it as a question: have you } ever convinced your management to do *anything* that makes sense? } } I didn't think so. } } You owe the Oracle a job without management -- or a management } position.