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

> My office mate was once cool.  He has, over the past several months, > been slowly changing into a yokel.  His hair has grown long.  He > goes out country dancing.  Just yesterday he was showing off his > snakeskin boots.  Were we in, say, Indiana this would not be > abnormal.  The problem is that we are in URBAN Washington, DC.  I > do not understand his desire to degenerate into a redneck.  All this > aside, Great Oracle, I am interesting in finding out how I can > convince him to get a perm in his hair.  I think this would be truely > amusing.  Can you help?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} They say that you can't truly understand a man until you've walked a } thousand miles in his shoes. However, since the subject insists on } wearing snakeskin boots, he's a fair target for all manner of cruelty. } } What your office mate really needs is humility. What I say is: } } "A man can only learn true humility after he's been air-dropped naked } into a jungle." } } Here's what you have to do: } } 1)  After work, kidnap your co-worker in the parking lot. } 2)  Gag, blindfold, and tie him up. } 3)  Take him to the airport. } 4)  Bribe a pilot to take you over the wild jungles of Brazil. } 5)  In the plane, strip your victim naked, except for a homing device }     crazy-glued to his chest. } 6)  Go to a nice civilized city in Brazil (San Paolo is quite nice), }     and check in to the Holiday Inn. } 7)  Order room service and watch pay-per-view. } 8)  After a few days, hire some natives to take you and a hairdresser }     into the bush. } 9)  Use the homing signal to find your victim. } 10) If he's still alive, offer the crazed, hungry, fear-filled office }     worker an ultimatum: } } get the perm and return to civilization, or die in the wild, never to } see a fax machine again.

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

> Most powerful Oracle, whose throws to first never pull the first > baseperson off the bag, please indulge me with the answer to the > following most-humble query: > > I play for a slow-pitch softball team and occasionally I pitch when the > wind is blowing.  Why is it then when I try to compensate for the wind > the ball is never blown back over home plate; and yet, if I pitch it > right at the plate the ball gets blown to one side? > > - Fernando Clemens Coneberry

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Ahhh!  An excellent question!!   There are three possibilities to be } considered here: } } 1)  The ball goes perfectly straight, but the mound and home plate are }     blown out of the way. } }     (Not likely, but very difficult to disprove.) } } 2)  The wind is afraid to get hit by the ball, and stops when it is }     thrown. } }     This is fairly common in the northern parts of the U.S., where the }     wind tends to be flighty and insecure.  Try switching to fast-pitch }     softball; the wind won't have time to get out of the way.  If it }     gets hit, however, it gets a free walk and will blow straight }     towards the first baseman. For the kinder and gentler approach, }     offer it a good seat in the benches. NOT by the boss, however; he }     won't be amused when his toupee blows off. } } 3)  The wind has cut a deal with the other team's manager, and is }     playing for them. } }     Not much you can do here.  It's probably part of a gambling }     syndicate. You'll have to recruit a different wind, from another }     city.  (Known in the business as a "trade wind.")  If you get proof }     of illegitimate side betting, you should be able to really raise up }     a storm. } } You owe the Oracle a good player for our Mt. Olympus team.  Must be } local, a pretty good infielder, and a demigod.

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

> Oh Ahumble and Bloated Egotius One, > > Does OSI really imply for Oracles Suck Ignominiously? > > Does TCP/IP stand for Ten Cowards Push Ignorant Protocols? > > Does IPX/SPX denote: I Pee eXcessively/She pees eXcessively? (Yes, this > is politically correct. Vagino-Americans do pee!) > > Is ORACLE an acronym for Octal Recursive Asynchronous Communications > Language Extended? > > Oh tell me please, Benefactor of the Omnigorant and Purveyor of Fine > Sausage. If you answer my query, true, may the wool of 10,000 > Limbaughan Lovers grace the palace of your boundless boundlessness.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Not bad Supplicant, but you err in a few important ways: } } OSI stands for "Only Suckers Initialize" } } TCP/IP means "Twelve Crummy People/Including Perverts" } } IPX/SPX is really "Ingenious Polynesian Xenophobes/Soaking Pyrex } Xylophones" } } and ORACLE is an acroynym for } "Optionally Refuses Asinine Comments Lately Emended" } }       That's me. }       I stand for NOTHING! } }       <<<<<  Z O T !!!! >>>>>>

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

> Dear Oracle, >       Please can you help me with a bit of a problem. I've been seeing > a girl for nearly a year now, and there appears to be a bit of a > problem emerging from our relationship. For some reason, as yet > unbeknown to me, she insists on leaving bread crumbs or bits of > squashed biscuit in the bed under the duvet. >       Can you please tell me what I should do ? And should I start to > worry about the chirruping noise that comes from under the bed as > dawn breaks > >       Yours, >               Troubled.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Hmmm.  Sorry to tell you this, but your girlfriend is having an affair } with Big Bird. Or Barney.... it's hard even for Me to tell.... } } You see, unbeknownst to anyone but Me,  <TTTTZZZAAAAAPPP!>  <Ow!> } And God!  Don't forget God!  (that runty half-assed... <TZZ..> } um, wise, um, all-knowing...  <pause> .... <phew> } } Anyway, Barney and Big Bird are (drumroll please) THE SAME BEING. } Years in the future, Big Bird will have an unfortunate accident } involving the Hoover Dam, a Hoover vaccuum cleaner, a time machine, and } two cases of SharkleBerry Punch Koolaid, creating.... BARNEY!! } } (Hmmm... I need to remember to arrange another "unfortunate accident" } for Barney soon....that's too much cuteness for a planet that already } has had to survive the Smurfs....) } } If the being in question is Barney, see if you can persuade your } girlfriend to leave the crumbs on the floor NEAR the bed....this way, } the monster under the bed (which has an unusual appetite for purple } things and chirrups in the morning) will take care of the problem for } you.  And, by the way, stop wearing those REALLY tacky purple argyle } socks. } } If it's Big Bird, sorry, you can never compete.  Go sit in a corner and } sing "It's Not Easy Being Green" until you feel better. } } You owe the Oracle two dozen melted Barney luchboxes filled with } Sharkleberry Punch.

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

> Oh Magical, SuperHuman, SexPot, Maxim Mertifolia, whose Ambrosia > annoints the masses who do not realise what a SuperBeing thou art, > and your sentiments are the learning mediums for us unworthy > supplicants, I would give you all I own if I knew where you lived, > and I would even give you my wife for your services as a Celluar > Query Answering Processor...... > > Pray Tell the answer to this Humble Question. > > Tell me a story........Be Kinky........... > > Oh Thank You Oh Mighty one! > I treasure your reply as much as I treasure my life. And if I where > to hold a feast in your honour, there would be no space left at the > table for all the civilised world would be there to see you, and you > alone! > Thank You Master.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The Dead Sea scrolls were written a long time ago; } "... and all our yesterdays light fools the way to dusty decks", } as I once said to Bill Shakespeare. } } The Dead Sea Scrolls are written in a dead language, of course. } "And what language is that?" you ask; well, } Dead C, of course. } } Squiggly brackets opened at the end of lines; no comments; a } variable called "i" in every function: dead C, pure and simple. } } Highlights, you want? You'll get none from me. It was too long ago } and too far away that I wrote that stuff, and it brings back bad } memories. Core memories; not ferromagnetic core, but apple core. } We had an apple for each bit, turned right-side up for ON, and } upside-down for OFF; and human slaves to go around setting the bits. } One clumsy slave invented trinary logic -- ah, humans and their } accidents with apples! } } Highlights, indeed! You know, I had to write that stuff with a } monochrome terminal; to get decent resolution, I had to gather } hundreds of thousands of humans in a field near Mount Olympus, and } provide them with colored banners -- and the response time! -- I } would look down from the clouds, see what I had typed, hit a few } keys, the priests would send runners out, and after a *long* while, } there it would be. And you wouldn't believe how the screen flickered } when the wind blew up! } } You owe the Oracle a computer built around the Intel(tm) Sexium(tm) } chip, and a Satisfaxion(tm) modem.

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

>

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} What? } } >                         ? } } WHAT!?! } } >                         !!! } } I'm sorry, I can't hear you.  You'll have to roll down your window! } } >   ? } } YOUR WINDOW, YOUR WINDOW!! ROLL IT DOWN } } >Sorry about that.  Do you know which of these buildings houses the } >offices of the Oracle database company? } } Oh, you're on the entirely wrong side of town.  Somebody must have } given you the wrong directions.  These offices belong to the USENET } Oracle.  You need to turn around, go back the way you came for three } or four miles.  After a McDonalds, hang a right onto Beeler, and go } another mile or so.  After the underpass, make a left onto Wilkins, } and it should be a couple more blocks on your left. } } >Thanks very much.  Bye. } } Uhh, just one minute. } } >Yes? } } You owe the Oracle a car. } } >What? } } You owe the Oracle a car. } } >What do you mean?  This is my car. } } Not anymore.  Standard operating procedure.  You ask the Oracle a } question, I get compensation.  I want your car. } } >But how am I going to get across town?  How am I going to get home!?! } } Not my problem.  Sorry about that.  Don't make me have to <ZOT!> you. } Thank you.  The keys?  Ah, thank you very much.  See you later.  I'm } going for a drive. } } >Why you #&@(#&%@(&^@!^!&@ } } Let's see, I just roll up this window, and... } } >                          ! } } What? } } >                   !               !! } } SORRY, CAN'T HEAR YOU THROUGH THE WINDOW!  HAVE A NICE DAY!

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

> Oh oracle most sagacious, whose wisdom is smoother and creamier than > the finest puerto rican rum ice cream, but just as toxic, I beg your > assistance in a matter of great delicacy. > > My officemate has been hanging crucifixes and candles on my side of > the room, and sprinkling various herbs over my keyboard and papers. > There is a line of salt separating me from the door & some intricate > swirly thing written on the wall in crayon.  I try to ignore it, but > there are all these chicken feathers floating around in the air. > Whenever I try to say something about it, she sort of shakes and > stares at me through slitted eyes and hisses something like 'zombei > zombei, dead one, already the earth opens to receive him.'  I've been > here all afternoon and I'm starting to get hungry... but I'm wondering > how she'll take it if I walk over her artwork to get some food... > what do you think would be the diplomatic thing to do? > > please reply soon.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}       My God man, didn't you ever see 'The Believers'?  Take a hint } from Jimmy Smits, lock yourself in a room and hope that Charlie Sheen } shows up soon.  If he hasn't shown up by dinner time, roll your eyes } into the back of your head, hold your arms out in front of you, and say } in a dead voice 'Let me out...let me out...' } } You owe the Oracle a bowlful of chicken guts and voodoo doll of Bill } Clinton.

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

> What does supplicant taste like?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Bitter, and not a little bit salty.

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

> O powerful, potent person of knowledge what sort of questions are > asked of thee?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} 1% amusing, 5% rhetorical/stupid, 7% accidental and 87% woodchuck...

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

>       Oh, most wise and sagacious one, before whom nations > tremble and fast food is actually fast, how best shall I please > my spouse?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Can't be done (at least not with attributes such as you posess, lowly } Supplicant).  Spouses are notoriously difficult to please, even in the } best of circumstances.  The Oracle recommends that you leave yours at } home and try your luck with a young & impressionable lover.  Or, } failing that, perhaps you should take up bridge. } } You owe the Oracle a good excuse for having stayed out late last } Friday.  Until Sunday afternoon, actually.