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

> WHAT IS INFOSYS? > > HOW DO I SUBSCRIBE TO INFOSYS? > > HOW DO I SUBMIT AN ARTICLE TO INFOSYS? > > WHAT ARTICLES ARE APPROPRIATE? > > WHO MANAGES INFOSYS? > > WHAT ARE PLANS FOR INFOSYS DEVELOPMENT? > > HOW DO I GET BACK ISSUES OF INFOSYS? > > HOW DO I DO A STRING (KEYWORD) SEARCH OF INFOSYS BACK ISSUES? > > HOW DO I GET A LIST OF INFOSYS SUBSCRIBERS? > > HOW DO I CANCEL MY SUBSCRIPTION? > > WHAT IS LISTSERV?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Listen to me carefully (get a pen and a piece of paper, if you } like).  Take a deep breath.  Put both hands on the desk in front } of your terminal. Push away from the desk, putting equal pressure } simultaneously on both hands. Stand up (if you don't remember how } to do this, pick up the phone and ask the Information Operator). } Walk away from your computer.  Do not look back no matter how strong } the compulsion. }      Walk out into the open air.  Take some more deep breaths.  Go } easy, you'reprobably not used to this particular ratio of oxygen to } carbon dioxide andothermiscellaneous gases.  Go forth into the world } and speak to any other human being you encounter.  (Try starting with } something like "hi," or "hello!" or "Hey, how's it going?") }      You need to start attempting to get a life.  You are way too } occupied with your computer.  It's bad for you.  Believe me. } I don't lie.  Just do it.

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

> Oh Almighty Oracle, > > What is "The missing link"?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The missing link is a bratwurst reportedly last seen on the Titanic, } before its disastrous end.  Many survivors claim to have in their } possession the actual link, but the actual location of the true sausage } has never been verified.

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

> If a train, going 75 miles an hour, leaves Montreal at 7:15 a.m., with > 40 passengers, twelve of whom are discordian, fnord?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Hey, kids!!  Now get a free Shuggoth in every box of Sugar Coated } Chthuloops!!

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

> To the Oracle, in deepest gratitude: > >       Here I sit, all alone, >       In a world so strange and mean >       But there is hope for all mankind >       It lies within the screen. > >       The Oracle is here to help >       With all your wants and needs >       His generosity certainly >       Outweighs his fiendish greed. > >       His wisdom flows from here to there >       And everywhere in between, >       He knows just how to make your day >       He tends not to be mean. > >       The Oracle shall save us all >       From all our earthly woes >       Just in time all shall be saved >       Just don't step on his toes.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The Oracle's most gratified } With your dramatic assertation. } But there remains one query yet } Wither is the question? } } I've searched through both the first verse } And the second, and the fourth, } Also the third, because, } I will not shirk this quest of yours. } } I've searched all through the "wisdom", } And the "earthly", and the "mean", } But still I cannot find it! } (I've also searched full inbetween). } } Orrie has now come to an } Inescapable conclusion. } The question (if there is one) } Is concealed in the allusion } } That says that I shall save you all } From all your Earthly woes } And just in time you shall be saved } But don't step on my toes! } } (The reader may have noticed, }  In the wording of this poem }  A certain similarity, }  To the supplicant at home, } }  Tapping away at the keyboard, }  Writing his little plea. }  That is purely to engender }  A sense of security.) } } Now this is clearly a reference, } To the wond'rous Oracular Feet. } Famed throughout the universe } For being so generally neat. } } "The Feet shall save us all!", they cry, } As the domesday hour approaches, } But wait! A problem has occured! } The Feet have been bitten by roaches! } } (That last line may seem a tad contrived, }  Purely there to maintain the rhyming. }  But the Oracle would never do such a thing }  Especially when dining). } } "Oh no!", they cry, "Our chance is gone!", } And riot in the street. } But "Calm you down!", Our Man exclaims, } "Nothing shall stop my Feet!" } } And so, and thus, the Feet went on, } (Hooray!) To save us all, } And justly then the world exclaimed, } "Hoorah! for the Oracle!".

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

> Are you for reals? > Hello? > Fuck

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Dear Fuck, }    Let me answer your questions in turn. } } > Are you for reals? } } I am indeed for reals. The real number system (including integers, } rationals and irrationals) is fundamental to modern mathematics. } } > Hello? } } Goodbye. } } You owe the Oracle grade-school literacy.

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

> If you're really the Oracle.... > > what do I have behind my back?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} O.K. wiseguy, the Most Powerful and Least Patient Oracle will } give you your answer. } }        Speaking directionally, your back, while being the back of your } front, is also the front of your back. Now if the front of your } back is your back, that is the back of your front, then logically } anything behind your back must be behind the front of your back, } and therefore, in front of you. }       So, the answer is your computer screen. } }       Doubt the Almighty Oracle, will you? Any more skepticism } from you and you'll be on the recieving end of a *ZOT* so big you } won't find your back for a fortnight.

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

> Why *did* the chicken cross the road, anyway?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The Oracle has duly ponder every facet } of your intellectual musings and is } prepared to profoundly answer your } question... } } One fine Saturday afternoon there was more abuzz than } usual in the steel and glass mansion of the Chicken } household. Little Chelsea D. Chicken, it seems, was } going to the prom that night. Her first dance at } the Cornish Game Hen Finishing HIgh School, Chelsea } was understandably nervous and giddy. She darted around } the house like a chicken with her head cut off } checking to make sure all preparations were well under } control. } } Her father, Bob "Brown N Serve" Chicken had already lovingly } slapped 3 hours worth of tape in the videocamera. } } Lydia "I'd like a thigh" Chicken had made the hors d'oevres } for the pre-photo session chit-chat between the Chicken } family and the Pollos, a wonderful Spanish wine clan who } had only recently moved to the area after stock in their } Malaguena wine company went public. } } Little Chunk CHicken had been safely locked in his room, } along with every childhood photo album which showed } Chelsea in embarassing egg-hood. } } Chelsea mentally went over the routine she would follow to } make herself a fitting date for the suave and debonaire } Julio Cesar Pollo. Tiara.. check. Pearl earrings and } necklace.... check. Nylons to cover her unsightly chicken } skinned legs. A beautiful feather trimmed dress to hide her } skinny chicken legs and accentuate her plump and delicious chest. } } SUddenly Chelsea let out a great squawk, causing her parents to } race to the frilly lace nest of their daughter. } } "I like totally forgot about beak gloss and talon polish!" } she gasped, falling back into her nest and sobbing uncontrollably. } "How will I ever be the most succulent chicken at the prom } with beak gloss and talon polish???? Julio Cesar will despise me!" } } Chelsea's mother sweated in panic... Wht to do, what to do. } In an instant, she whispered to her husband, urging him } to go to the Circle K across the street and pick up some } polish and gloss for Chelsea, to soothe her nerves and } let her concentrate on the festivities at hand. } } Seizing the opportunity for chivalry, Mr. Chicken patted his } daughter on the head and raced out of the house, proud to } be able to help his Angel Birdie in her moment of need. } } Unfortunately in his haste, poor Bob did not have the good } sense to look both ways when crossing the road and was } most unpoetically flattened by a Foster Farms Truck, } putting a damper on not only the prom jocularity, but } on the slushie throwing contest that was going on across } the street at the Circle K as well. } } You owe the oracle a bucket of the Colonel's finest, hold the nasty } gravy.

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

> O frabjous Oracle, calloo callay, whose gyres and gimbals never wabe, > please enlighten me, your pathetic useless supplicant: > > How is it that I'm moderately popular and have an active social life, > when I was a Computer Science major in college?  From what I > understand, I am an anomaly.  I'm supposed to be spending my time in a > dimly lit lab playing XTrek and drinking Jolt, am I not? > > PS. I am female; please refrain from penis jokes.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} You didn't mention my more vorpal qualities. } } O pathetic worthless supplicant, you are indeed supposed to be in a } dimly lit lab, playing XTrek and drinking Jolt.  For what is our } educational system for?  To educate?  NO!  It's a mouse race designed } to prepare you for the rat race!  (College is time trials.)  The } curricula are specifically designed to help you fit into the grand } pattern of modern life. } } It seems that you failed to meet the expectations of society, your } parents, various civic leaders, and most Deadheads by actually } learning something.  The only cure is to continue your education } until the system grinds your free will and joie de vivre into a fine } powder. } } You might choose from the following areas of underachievement.  I } have included (for your benefit) a synopsis of what is expected of } you. } } Computer Science: } }    College    Spend most of your time in a dimly lit lab, playing }               XTrek and drinking Jolt.  Interact only with other }               CS majors, and only via the 'net if you can manage }               it.  Become passionately involved only in the }               continuing IBeM/Commode-ore/Suckintosh debate. } }    Real Life  Spend most of your time in a dimly lit office, }               playing Flight Simulator and drinking gourmet }               coffee...at least five cups an hour.  Interact only }               with your own project team, and then only via }               e-mail.  Become passionately involved in the }               continuing debate over who pays when the schedule }               slips, which wasn't your fault because you told them }               to take DOOM-playing into account from the beginning. } } Psychology: } }    College    Spend most of your time in a dimly-lit lab, playing }               with rats and other vermin.  Drink Jolt by the }               six-pack to stay up all night with the rodents. }               Interact only with other Psychos, but only to }               analyze their behavior in non-lab situations. }               Become involved in the continuing debate over }               whether a trained rat could succeed as a comp sci }               major. } }    Real Life  Spend most of your time in an unemployment line and }               living in a cardboard box with other vermin, }               wishing you'd changed to CS instead of the rat. }               Continue to consider yourself superior to social }               work majors. } } Economics: } }    College    Spend most of your time in a brightly-lit room }               full of charts and graphs.  Learn about supply and }               demand, GNP, supply and demand, prime rates, supply }               and demand, inflation, and supply and demand. } }    Real Life  Spend most of your time in a brightly-lit government }               office with people who look just like you.  Issue }               reports you wrote in college because you're too }               lazy to write a new one.  Watch newscaster explain }               your report to unsuspecting viewers.  Listen to }               President explain that the economy sucks because }               of unemployed psychologists. } } Philosophy: } }    College    Read books by dead guys.  Debate whether a tree }               falling alone in a forest will say, "Oh, fuck! Not }               again!"  Consider the ethical problems in the killing }               of annoying street mimes.  Get failed by prof for }               not liking correct dead guy. } }    Real Life  Spend most of your time in a dimly lit office, }               playing Flight Simulator and drinking gourmet }               coffee...at least five cups an hour.  Interact only }               with your own project team, and then only via }               e-mail.  Become passionately involved in the }               continuing debate over who pays when the schedule }               slips, which wasn't your fault because you told them }               to take DOOM-playing into account from the beginning. }               Be thankful you switched to comp sci, which pays }               better than being a dead philosopher. } } Math: } }    College    Spend your time in a cramped office, thinking about }               polydimensional shapes and arguing their properties }               with other mathematicians.  Scream when they steal }               your work.  Steal their work.  Be a social outcast. } }    Real Life  See above.  You work for the university. } } I suggest you apply immediately and start being downwardly mobile. } It's never too late to become a sponge. } } You owe the Oracle a doctorate. } } PS How many penises does it take to screw in a light bulb?

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

> Oh Oracle, clever and quick witted, storyteller extraordinaire, please > tell me a story that has romance, intrigue, daring and excitement. > > Ta.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Well, once there was this guy, you see, and he like fell in love with } this girl and like, they had to hide it from people cause like he was } black and she was white or somethin'.  So finally they like tell } everybody and there's this big chase scene. } } You didn't ask for a good story.

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

> What is life

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Just a game, devised within the same timeframe, by God and John Conway. } } The God version is somewhat more complex, since it allows some players } to wonder why they have to die, and give rise to rebellion, denial and } suicide. But that becomes rather messy after a while, and the required } board to play the game is somewhat larger than your standard universe. } (Of course, basement universes can provide an enjoyable evening). } } The Conway version is much cleaner. And the little dots don't run } around screaming when they have to die, or ask silly questions like } "Why are we here", or "Is there really 100% beef between the Golden } Arches buns?". } } I've heard the rumour that somewhere on a game of Conway Life, by } strange and random mutations, the dots combine to form a bit-map of } Elvis's face alternating over a couple of life cycles to the words } 'Jimmy Carter=GODT'. } } This raises some Pan Critical Questions, as the extropians would say, } for we do not know: }    1. If Elvis is being paid royalties for appearing in a shareware }       program. }    2. If GOD is behind this, John Conway is behind this, or if it is }       just some kind of practical joke played by the Unified Field }       Theory 0.92beta which most immortals have acknowledged to be *the* }       supreme being. }    3. Why, of all possible mutations, that the dots could only be }       fitted to this display by misspelling the word GOD as GODT. }          NOTE: many believe that this either implies that the English }                language does not fit the true flow of the cosmos, or }                that there is a supreme other above GOD with the strange }                name GODT. }    4. What in the hell Jimmy Carter (the human peanut) is doing in all }       this. } } PS: the existence of the two versions of life have prompted the common }     phrase in our incomplete language: 'Get *a* life' opposed to 'Get }     Life'. } }     Extropians would argue that since English was devised BEFORE Conway }     came up with his version of life, this means that everything in }     this universe was meant to be. } }     Including Tonya Harding. } }     Oooooops. Slipped again.