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

> Omniscient one, should I really care if some fool is going to rate this > oracularity with a "1" just because I ask how much grovelling a > woodchuck named Lisa could possibly do during a gameshow segment on > Late Night with David Letterman?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} [cue in music] } } NOW! LIVE! FROM OUR STUDIOS IN SAN BERNADO } CALIFORNIA, IIIIIIIIIIITTS "WHAT WILL YOU DO FOR A } DOLLAR?" with our host Pat Sajack! } } [Pat trots out, wave to the audience, applause] } } Good Evening folks!  We have a really good contestant tonight. } Bob why don't introduce tonight's contestant? } } OKAY PAT.  OUR CONTESTANT IS A } SUBMISSIVE/DOMINANT FIGMENT OF THE COLLECTIVE } SEX DRIVE OF NEARLY A MILLION COLLAGE AGED } MALES.  ALL THE WAY FROM USENET IT'S LISA!! } } [Lisa comes out] } } Hello Lisa, welcome to our show.  And "What will you do for a } dollar?" } } [The audience roars] } } "Well Pat," *dimple* " I'll go down on a woodchuck and...." } #@%#@% } Message from oracle@tty0 } This is stupid } EOT } } write oracle@tty0 } Well you are doing the same thing by using simulated UNIX } sessions.  You are trying to get a cheap laugh out of that poor boob } over on rec.humor.oracle.d } ^D } } *POP* } The Oracle appears, looks around and shakes his head. "Messy } office."  The Incarnation sputters and protests "It is work in } progress!  I know where everything is!"  The Oracle dismissivly } shakes his head "We are wasting time.  The Supplicant is waiting." } "But he didn't grovel.  I was going to end it with his balls being sent } to Denmark.  Very funny, really mumble mumble..".  The Oracle, } being quite tall, leans over the Incarnation.  "Listen, I know that you } have trouble keeping both hands on the keyboard when you read } and/or write about Lisa.  However, that guy had a point.  He has } probably read hundreds of these pseudo-sexual } Lisa/UNIX/woodchuck gags.  He has become jaded".  "But I spend } most of my time working in UNIX" the Incarnation whined "so it is } easy to make jokes about it.  And sexual humor has a long tradition } in subversive literature.  Everyone thinks a penis is funny.  Besides } when I am not working on UNIX I am thinking about sex.  About } sex with the girl two terminals up and to the left, sex with Lisa, sex } with woo.."  The Oracle smacks the Incarnation on the side of the } head.  "Wise up.  Even the Gods find sex funny.  As well as many } of the oracularities that have used the Woodchuck device.  What that } guy was objecting to was the cheap tawdry imitations of these very } funny oracularites" "Sex is tawdry.." smack "Look.  If you, } personally, have suddenly discovered The Joke and It Is Funny and } it happens to be about a woodchuck or UNIX or Lisa, fine.  We } will never stop laughing at sex anyway, but quit using low grade } recycled humor.  Hey what is this, a TV sitcom?"  "How about } grovel jokes." smack.  "Only if they are very, very funny." "You } seem awfully fond of smacking me." smack. "It gets an easy laugh." } smack.  "Well if you can do it why can't I?" smack "Because you are } the Incarnation and I am the Oracle, thats why." smack "I think I } have made my point." "Fine".  The Incarnation stands up and tries } to kick the Oracle in the balls, but he slips on a banana peel. } } [cue laugh track: 5 seconds] } } You owe the Oracle a bully pulpit.

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

> What is a computer? >     Kelli & Susan

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} WHAT:COMMAND NOT FOUND } ?:AMBIGUOUS } SEGMENTATION FAULT } CORE DUMPED

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

> Oracle, if you'd be so kind, > You can tell I don't know how to rhyme. > If you'd please send me home > An improved way to poem > I promise you something sublime.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} I'm sure that you possess great ambition } But you had better get comfy for this one. }   For a course you have asked, }   At its end you shall grasp } A few lessons of poetic diction. } } If you desire to become a poet } "Rhyme": be sure that you know it! }   Because if you don't }   Your critics will gloat } And your progress, no lie, they will slow it. } } If it is a quick lesson you're needing, } Then I will not quote Kipling or Keating. }   We'll start with "limerick"; }   There's really no trick. } It goes somewhat like what you've been reading. } } For more intricate forms of "rhymation", } Take license with the lyrics you "fa-shion". }   And from time to time }   When you don't have a rhyme } You create a new one - like "mayshun". } } I know that it all seems confusing, } But it's a common device that you're using. }   I don't know the word }   (does that seem absurd?) } Just use any word of your choosing! } } If mastery is what you had sought, } And my lesson was obviously not, }   Drop dead you pig! }   You think you're so big? } Try this on for size, punk: <ZOT!> } } You owe the Oracle ANOTHER pack of Marlboro Reds.  That's TWO in one } night!!

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

> Dear Oracle (or God, or Time, or whatever you are), > > My friend Al says that, according to Ziggy, there's a 97.5% probability > that I'm gonna Quantum Leap into you sometime in the next few minutes. > If that happens, what will be my mission?  Please help!

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} All of spacetime depends on you! Here is your mission. } } Go to Quickmart.  Pick up a } loaf of bread } A gallon of milk } a stick of butter } 2000 sacrifical doves suitable for eviseration } } Go to Speedy's Luandry and Cleaners.  Pick up } } 5 togas, extra starch } 1 curcus tent with bullet holes mended } 4 plaid socks. (if there is an odd number of socks, ZOT em) } } Also go to Drugfair and buy their birth control inventory. } } After that ummmmm, do 1000 pushups and another 1000 chin-ups, I've } been getting a little out of shape.  Make sure to shower afterwards. } I'll be back a 5:00.  The money is on the counter. } } Remember, If you fail in your mission, the Universe could collapse in a } blast of radiation and fire.  The whole world is counting on you.

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

> Wise and Mighty Usenet Oracle, whose breakfast table I would be most > honored to sit at, please tell me... > > If Fruit Loops come in all those different colors, why do they all > taste the same?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Women come in all different colors, too. } } You owe the Oracle a box of Lucky Charms.

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

> what the hell is a dotted quad?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}   .............................................................. }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                  I haven't the foggiest.                   . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   .                                                            . }   ..............................................................

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

> Oh illustrated, pre-eminent, foot noted, regarded, grandiose Oracle, > whose wisdom is like a great fire under my soul.  I have a question > that has been tormenting me at nights.  Let's say that Santa and his > reindeer are travelling South at 70 MPH during a test run of his sled. > He meets a fully armed Apache attack helicopter moving North at 130 > MPH, badly startling the helicopter pilot, who is totally blameless, > really.  The helicopter pilot fires both of his Vulcan cannon (each > capable of firing 6000 rounds per minute) directly at Santa, thinking > that Santa is some wierd Chinese spy plane.  Needless to say, Santa > was, er, would be, turned into chunky style dog food.  Let's also say, > just hypothetically mind you, that I was that helicopter pilot, for > the sake of argument.  Will I get any presents this year, assuming > that any of this happened, which it didn't, honestly? > >                         Captain Jim Trueblood >                         3rd Air Calvalry

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} HO HO HO HO! } What must I hear! } First of all. You didn't cowboy Santa! } What you saw was probably one of his unmaned drones for irritating } radar. On the other hand it could also  be an effect of drinking too } much alcohol from the anti-ice-system! } } You can really be happy that you didn't run into the ONE Santa. } You can't imagine what a bunch of *ANGRY* reindeers are capable of .... } (no - your vulcans or amraam are just kiddy-stuff!) } } There is ONE -I repeat ONE- chance for you to get a christmas present! } }         1. Paint your apache Red and White }         2. Step in the officers mess at dinner time and shout }            " I BELIEVE IN SANTA" 3 times }         3. Do the same in the privates mess }         4. Take a can of white paint and mark a }            part of your airbase as Santas' private }            landing area }            (write "for Santa only" or sketch the reindeer-sledge) } } You owe the oracle nothing! Man you are in trouble!

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

> Controller, >       I have infiltrated the compound and substituted myself for the > subject.  What are your new instructions? > > --Agent 143

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} File divorce proceedings against Hillary.  Then kill Al Gore and } replace him with Dan Quayle.

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

> Oh great Oracle Entity, > > Do you think "she" really loves me?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} "I" would have to say that the answer to 'your' question is no, "I" do } not think that "she" loves "you."  "It" is a simple matter, really (at } least in the Oracular sense, in which one (to use a gender-neutral } term) finds that one knows everything (insofar as the universe in } which the Oracle lives will permit (in the non-personal sense, I was } simply using anthropomorphism (to use a non-gender-neutral term (most } terms are this way, I suspect (again, using an anthropomorphism, of } course I know the real statistics (no, not the worthless ones from the } government (which really hasn't changed despite the election, as } you'll note from the popular vote (which doesn't mean much because the } US still uses an electoral college (which is where you should be } instead of where you are now, you oaf (which you deserve to be called } for using such a poor excuse for a grovel (overused joke, yes, but it } has become something of a tradition on the network (insofar as } something so relatively young can have a tradition (it certainly } doesn't rank up there with turkey for Thanksgiving (non-pc, assumes } that the readers are all from North America and celebrate such } holidays)))))))))))))). } } You owe the "Oracle" a break from extraneous p!un?c:tua[ti}on.

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

> Oh great and wondrous Oracle; Oh ye that doth shower enlightenment upon > an ignorant universe of pitiful and wretched creatures; I, your humble > and devout servant am in need of your infinite wisdom once again. > > PROBLEM: > I was just down at the office bathroom taking a whiz.  When I leaned > over to flush the toilet, my sun glasses fell out of my pocket and into > the pot. > > ADDITIONAL FACTORS: > The toilet is seriously nasty.  I'm estimating that the previous 3 or 4 > guys using it had failed to flush it. > > QUERY: > How can I safely retrieve the sun glasses and return them to their > useful function, or should I just write 'em off?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Quickly now, as soon as you've finished reading my reply, rush down to } the basement of your office building, and go into the lumber room } (it's the fourth door on the left).  Switch on the light.  You'll see } a large brown rat cowering in the corner where a mangy alley cat is } about to attack it.  You'll find a chunk of brick handy; sling it at } the cat and make sure you aim true. } } The moment the rat sees that its enemy is destroyed, it will come } toward you unafraid and say, "Lucky human, you have saved my life, and } earned the undying gratitude of Ben, the King of the Sewer Rats.  Take } this little copper whistle, and whenever you are in trouble near a } toilet, blow a blast upon it, and you can be never so far but my } people will hear you and come to your aid." } } Thank King Ben profusely and return to your floor.  Now, you could } save the little copper whistle until you're set upon by a mugger in } the airport restroom, or a persistent would-be skin flautist in the } city park men's room, but you want your sunglasses back.  Go down the } hall to the bathroom.  Lean over one of the unclogged toilets and blow } a sharp blast on the whistle. } } Instantly a half dozen large, noble-looking sewer rats will leap up } through the bowl.  The leader will bow to you and say "Rattus Primus } at your service.  What is your need?"  You show the rats to the } offending bowl and point to your sunglasses, appeal in your face. } } Rattus Primus stands with his brow wrinkled, as if in meditation. } He then turns to his companions and says, "Lads, you heard the human } who bears the copper whistle.  What say you?" } } A wizened gray rat pipes up.  "Boss, this asshole called us all the } way up here to fetch a pair of two-dollar K-Mart shades out of a pile } of shit!  I say we waste him!" } } Rattus Primus nods sagely, and six pairs of battle-sharpened teeth } are at your legs, your throat, your face... } } Moral: Never trust a sewer rat playing roles from Aesop.  Or an Oracle } tired of being treated like a doormat.