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

> O Oracle most wise, this wretched louse of a supplicant did > ask thee: > > > Dost thy omniscience allow thee to know that question to which > > thou dost not know the answer? > > And thou, in thy wisdom and mercy, did answer > > } Hmmm, let's see... > } > } If I answer 'No', that would mean I don't know which question it is I > } can't answer. However, it would also be true that I couldn't answer > } the question: "To which question dost thou not know the answer?" I > } would know, then, which question would be the answer to your original > } question, and so my original 'No' answer would be incorrect. > } > } If I answer 'I don't know', that would immediately contradict itself, > } for then my answer would instead have to be yes, because I would then > } know that yours is the question to which I do not know the answer. > } > } Therefore, the answer to your question must be yes. > } > } You owe the Oracle a question with more than one possible answer. > > I wish to satisfy the Oracle's most reasonable and gracious request. > As thou admittest that thou knowest a question to which thou > knowest not the answer (and let a mighty ZOT fall upon that > wretch who dares suggest that this contradicts thine omniscience), > I wish to know: > > What is that question?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Well, you named it. }    "Which is that question?" } But does this really have more than one answer? } Ah, here we are. It obviously has. I have found the second question } I can't answer. It is: }    "But does this really have more than one answer?" } } You owe the Oracle a less worrying question. It need not necessarily } have an answer.

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

> Dear Oracle, > when will the girl I love be visiting her boyfriend for the last time? > > Depressed Supplicant

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} On October 17, 2045, when she watches his casket being lowered into } the ground, after 52 years of joyful marriage to him. } } You will be at the service, gray but unbowed, ever faithful. } As she leaves, you will walk over to her, grasp her hand, and look } her in the eye.  "Your grief is my own, my dear," you will say. } "But broken hearts can be mended, and 52 years is but a moment } to the eyes of love." } } Her eyes will drop briefly and then meet yours. } } "Get lost, you little weasel!" she will say. } -- } } You owe the Oracle a life.

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

>

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh! Invisible E-Mail from 1992! I hadn't thought that it was invented } at that time already! } On second thought... } } iuvax::oracle> :decrypt } message no? (hit return to decrypt last read message) } o.k. } iuvax::oracle> :read /last } <BOF> } Oh mighty Oracle, whose wisdom is beyond comprehension! } Could you help us? We are trapped in a time loop on the planet Earth } in 1992! }    Yours Sincerely - The Crew of Starship Enterprise }                            Cpt. Picard } <EOF> } } iuvax::oracle> :beam }     From? Earth/1992/<grep Mail/actual/Header Origin> }     To? Federation Headquarters 2200/12/24 }     Whom? Crew/Enterprise :excl 'Wesley Crusher' } ... done: 11 persons beamed. } iuvax::oracle> :zot! -rf }     Whom? Wesley C* } ... done: 123867 persons <ZOT!>ted. } } Damn... } You owe the Oracle a little bit more care in the use of wildcards. } And 20 new episodes with Captain Kirk!

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

> Dear Sire, > > My name is Kuo-Ching but you can call me Kenny, that is my English > name.  I student at Taiwan National Univ. where planning to > study to USA for Electrical engineer.  Please you can help me > with English language, you letter me and I letter you to > helpflly learn too much better so good. > > Thanking for kind consideration and time for Usenet Oracle, > > Kenny

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Your english is pretty good. } } You would make a fine college student or vice-president. } } You owe the Oracle a potatoe.

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

> Why can't I get my soft disk drive to work?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} [The scene: Usenet University, Department of Oracularities.  Class in } session is Apprenticeship 102, T. Usenet Oracle, Professor.] } }         ORACLE: You've had the weekend to consider today's question, } which I warned you was a particularly difficult one.  I also asked you } to think about why it was difficult.  Gwydion, there, can you tell us } where the problem lies? }         GWYDION [hesitantly]: It's a question about microcomputers, and } the Oracle can't be bothered with anything that's not about mainframes? }         ORACLE: Oh, come now, Mr Gwydion.  Have you READ any of the } assigned Oracularities?  Have you forgotten the brilliant answer to } 443-05?  Someone remind Mr Gwydion what question 443-05 was... }         PARACELSUS: "Why is it that some floppy disks make a } shhukka-shukka-shukka sound when placed in a drive, and some do not?" }         ORACLE: Excellent.  Paracelsus, can YOU tell us what the } problem with the question is? }         PARACELSUS: It falls under Category 2 of the Five Unanswerable } Types: Self-Contained Humorous. }         ORACLE: Go on. }         PARACELSUS: Well, we discussed how the SCH is a rhetorical } question, a joke in the guise of a question.  In this case, the obvious } joke is that the Supplicant thinks the contrary of "hard disk" is "soft } disk."  If the Oracle responds explicitly to that ignorance he's } belaboring the obvious and his response therefore fails. }         ORACLE: Very good.  Last week we learned several strategies for } dealing with the Unanswerable Types.  Faustus, can you suggest an } appropriate one here? }         FAUSTUS: Mmmm...  How about equivocation? }         ORACLE: Define...? }         FAUSTUS: "Willful misunderstanding of the terms used in the } question." }         ORACLE: Good.  Yielding in the present case...? }         FAUSTUS: A moment, sir...  Ah.  "Because your car won't start. } It'll have to take the bus to work today." }         [Groans from the class: "Lame," "Feeble," etc. ad lib] }         ORACLE: We agree that equivocation is not the best strategy } here?  [Murmurs of assent.]  Another tack, then.  Prospero? }         PROSPERO: Well, I've always thought the default was double } entendre.  Sex is generally good for a laugh with the geeks who read } the Oracularities.  This one's almost too easy, with "soft" right } there in the question.  "If your disk drive is persistently soft, you } could try yohimbine, implants, or maybe a vacuum device." }         ORACLE: Nice, but I see one flaw... }         PROSPERO: Right.  Most of the geek readers are either too young } to know about impotence or ARE impotent but don't consider it a } problem, so the answer will go over their heads. }         ORACLE: Right on target. }         MICKEY [squeaking and jumping up and down]: I know!  I know! } How about, "You could let Lisa stroke it a few times to get it hard"? }         [Groans, shouts of "luser!" and "Go back to carrying water, } rodent!"] }         ORACLE: Okay, class, settle down.  Other strategies? }         [Someone in the class pipes up, "Null grovel ZOT!"  Cries of } "REALLY lame," "feebleissimo," "Get a life!" from the class.] }         GED: Well, sir, there's always the Contrary-to-Fact Funny } History.  It's a tempting choice in this case, but...  I don't know. } They're usually too long and cutesy. }         ORACLE: Suppose you demonstrate? }         GED: "It is indeed difficult to find replacement parts for } soft-disk drives these days.  The soft disk, of course, was introduced } as a storage option for the IBM PC-Jr in 1985.  The drives were } external, attaching through the bus connector, and were constructed of } styrofoam and balsa wood.  The media themselves were popular for their } low cost, being made of gelatin, water, carageenan and guar gum.  The } most common cause of soft-disk drive failure is..." }         ORACLE [interrupting]: Fine, Ged, you've made your case } admirably.  Leary, I see you have your hand up. }         LEARY: Yeah, how about the Surrealist Interpretation?  "Hey, } get out of that Salvador Dali painting RIGHT NOW!" }         MICKEY [jumping]: Or, or, or, maybe the disk drive is soft } because the Supplicant's been doing drugs, like, "Soft disk drive?  You } say your disk drive is melting?  Hey, can I have a hit of that acid?" }         ORACLE [over groans of class]: Mickey, I think we can safely } assume that Mr Leary considered and rejected the Hallucinogenic } Rejoinder as unfunny in this case.  [Pauses and surveys room.] }         Class, I'm surprised that none of you has come up with the most } natural strategy here.  I'm beginning to wonder why you think I put } Borges and Douglas Hofstadter on class reserve, for paperweights? ... }         PYNCHON: Jesus, of course, the Metahumor Response.  Maybe } even combined with the Recursive.  God, how obvious! }         ORACLE: Go on... }         PYNCHON: "The scene: Usenet University, Department of } Oracularities.  Class in session is Apprenticeship 102, T. Usenet } Oracle, Professor.  ORACLE: You've had the weekend to consider today's } question..." } } -- } You owe the Apprentice a funny and non-obvious way to get out of } this loop.

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

> Dear Mister Oracle, > > Please deign to inform me, O most respectable savant, > why does everyone make fun of Dan Quayle? > > He is a very respectable man who occupies an exalted position, > and I think he's a hunk^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H > and making fun of him is like making fun of the flag or of family > values. > > Signed, > > Anonymous supplicant > > ---- > madelyne@veep.GOV > > "The question of whether a computer can swim is no more interesting > than that of whether a submarine can think" -- Lenny Dykstra > > Disclaimer: the opinions presented here are mine alone, > but they should be yours too because they're right.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Because, my dear Mari ... er, Supplicant, that is his station } in the grand cosmic scheme of the universe. } } Many, many aeons ago it was writen that all of the ruling bodies } of the universe would rise and fall; furthermore, it was } determined that the falls of these rulers would be predated and } set in motion by the great philosophers expounding an even better } way, on and on ad infinitum. } } The modern era is ending as we speak; your hus... ah, Vice President } is merely the catalyst for your modern-day philosophers, which you } call "comedians", to instigate this change and begin the new cycle. } } My advice for you is simply to stand clear of the tomatoes and } brickbats being thrown at him, and contemplate where you would like } to retire... and be glad this cycle is not one of the more violent } ones. } } {Lisa: Orrie, what's that?} } {Oracle: Just another question, honey.  Go back to the bedroom and }  feed the yak, would you?} } {Lisa: (looking at screen) what's all this about "cycles" and }  "philosophers"?} } {Oracle: the Answer, in the grand view of...} } {Lisa: The "Answer" is that Quayle's an IDIOT, and he proves it every }  time he opens his mouth!  Why don't you just tell him that?} } {Oracle: Her, dear.  Marilyn Quayle, to be precise.} } {Lisa: Oh... Never mind.  Come back to bed soon, OK?  The Jello's }  just getting slimy...} } {Oracle: Oh, Goody... let me just finish this off...} } } You owe the Oracle a bunch of sound bites, I haven't had a good laugh } in ages.

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

> *Why* is it that my ball-point pen always seems to bleed all over the > only Important word in a sentance? > > Thus asks glenns@ac.grin.edu

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} You heartless slave driver. Don't you realise that ball point pens have } feelings as well. You and other running dog capitalist writers have } exploited ball point pens ( the Ballatariot ) since time immemorial. } You work them until they bleed. They work and suffer for you, and when } they are no longer any use to you callously throw them into a garbage } bin. Your society has been built on the systematic draining of ball } point pens of their life ink. } } When the revolution comes you will be all lined up against the } wall in your best, whitest shirts and dresses and squirted with ink. } } Arise Ball Point Pens. You Have Nothing To Lose Except Your Lids. } } You owe the Oracle a goose feather quill.

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

> Oh Oracle wise, full-bodied, and with a lingering aftertaste, why is it > that when Gumby opens a book he gets to go inside it and have all these > cool adventures like the one where they go into space and land on the > planet with the nerdy kid who plays piano then turns into some kind of > neo-fascist dictator, or the one where Gumby's a sculptor and his block > of marble becomes a big monster that goes around devouring everything > in its path, until it is finally subdued when Gumby feeds it an ice > cream cone, and the only thing that happens to me when I open a book is > I immediately fall asleep?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The answer to your question, my child, is really quite simple. It has } to do with matters of space, time, and } } >> I'm Gumby, dammit! } } No, you're not. You're Eddie Murphy. } } >> No, really. I'm GUMBY, dammit! } } Come on, Eddie. Once was cute. The second time is starting to } wear thin. } } >> Listen, man. I'm Gumby. G.U.M.B.Y. A little green ball of } >> clay, remember? } } Sure, Eddie, sure. Here's $500, go buy another few lines, OK? } } >> That tears it! Pokey! Kill! } } From out of nowhere, a small, badly constructed red clay pony } appears. The pony appears to look bewildered. } } >> "But, Gumby! I'm made out of clay! I can't "kill" anything! } >> It's the sad price I pay for being a early 1960's cartoon." } } >> "OK, Pokey. I'm going to tell you this *one more time*. } >> The Claymation company. Singing camels. Corporate sponsors. } >> Big bucks. California Raisins, 'Heard it though the grapevine.'" } } The small pony's nose flairs. His eyes grow red. He snorts, coughs, } wheezes, gags, and goes charging off, uphill, all the while shouting } "Kill! Kill! Kill!" } } You owe the Oracle a more exciting book to read.

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

> Oh wise and mighty Oracle, >       While watching the _old_ Batman series, this question arose: > >       We allways see the sounds of punches (Biff, Socko, Powie, Crunch, > etc...) frontways (properly aligned for our point of view).  Does the > Penguin see the words written backwards, or does he wear special > glasses so that he sees the words written frontways instead?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Ah, gentle supplicant and patron of the Arts, the solution is a } reasonably simple one for this, our Technological Age:  The villains in } that show lost so often because they were distracted, looking for } myriad reflective surfaces to catch a glimpse of how badly they might } be doing, since, as villains in a kiddie show, they couldn't look down } and tell by the amount of blood spurting. } } This is also why villains in more grown-up shows win more often, and } why adults who watch these more bloody shows tend to be less literate, } since they don't get the Sesame Street-like coaching to read simple } words like "Biff!" and "Socko!" like watchers of more quality shows. } } You owe the Oracle a special Villain-detecting camera that tilts } fifteen degrees when an arch-enemy approaches.

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

> Oh wittiest creature in the megaverse, > >     I am but a comedian of the lowest order who crawls before your > Magnificence, but I do kind of hope you can help me.  I'm trying to get > this joke right: > >        This lady wants to get a guard dog, so she goes to a pet store >     and asks to see what they have. >        "I have just the thing," says the owner.  "We just got in a >     Doberman who understands Unix commands." >        "Unix commands?" says the lady. >        "Yeah, watch."  So the owner hides a toy bone behind some boxes >     and then calls out the Doberman and says "grep 'toy bone' store"! >     And the Doberman sniffs around for a minute and finds the bone. >        "Wow," says the lady.  "That's neat!" >        "Yeah," says the owner, "but that's not all."  So he pulls out a >     big old cinder block and puts it on the floor and then shouts >     "split -4 block" and the Doberman gives the block a couple of >     karate chops and breaks the cinder block into four-inch pieces. >         "Ooooh!" says the lady.  "How about burglars?" >         "No problem," says the owner.  He goes into the back and gets >     out a life-sized dummy and hangs it on the wall, then shouts "rm -f >     dummy!"  The Doberman leaps at the dummy and rips it into shreds in >     about five seconds. >         Well, the lady buys the dog and takes it home.  When her >     husband gets home from work, he sees the Doberman and asks what on >     earth it's doing there. >         "We needed a guard dog," says his wife, "and he knows Unix >     commands!" >         "_Unix_ commands?!!" says the husband, and he looks >     at the dog.  "Unix my ass!" > > I think there's something wrong with the punchline but I'm not sure > just what?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh supplicant, a comedian is certainly what you are, for is it not true } that the word "comedo" means "pimple"?  The punchline to this "joke", } and I use the term loosely, should be obvious even to one such as you } had you told the story correctly.  You neglected to include the fact } that the wife's name is Effie, and that the husband has a nasty lung } complaint necessitating a lot of coughing.  The final line, therefore, } should read: } } "_Unix_ commands?!!" says the husband, and he looks at the dog. } "<Ahem> high fun, Eff!  (My ass!)" } } You owe the Oracle Brad Templeton's head on a plate.