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

> Hey Orrie! I've been told that you answer questions! Here goes one: > > Which are this season's seven wonders of the world?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} THE WINDOWS OF 95: Gasp in awe at how so little of any use can take } up so much hard disk space. } } THE HANGING BOSOMS OF ANNA NICOLE SMITH: These have baffled the } greatest minds on the planet. What keeps them up? What is the source } of the strange fascination they exert on elderly billionaires? } Scientists are queueing up to do practical research. } } THE SERIES OF VOYAGER: Apparently in its third season. No man alive } knows how this is possible. } } THE TRIAL OF OJ: It's a wonder he got off. } } THE GREAT .SIG OF KIBO: The only man made signature that can be seen } from space. } } THE SPAM OF RHODES: The most reposted Usenet article of all time. } } THE ORACLE OF INTERNET: Truly the piece de resistance of the modern } world. Nothing else can compare to its magnificence. } } You owe the Oracle the 7 Wonders of the Web.

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

> O mighty masterful Oracle, wisest of wise and sagest of sage, long of > stature and short of cash, able to get Marketing and Engineering to > agree with Production sometimes... > > I keep getting free CD-ROMS in the mail: Motorola, AOL, Texas > Instruments, MSN, and many others. I don't have a CD-ROM drive, and I > don't really want what's on the disks. > > What can I do with these things?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} I'm actually glad you asked.  I've been working on a book called "The } Many Hidden Uses of CD-ROMS".  Here's a short excerpt: } } 1. Classy collars for pencil-necked chihuahuas } } 2. Attention-getting earings } } 3. Enviro-friendly temperature regulators (glue those babies to your } house and they reflect all that hot sunlight.  Of course, this will } probably scorch your grass, but you can't have everything) } } 4. Picture frames } } 5. Ninja throwing discs (for added effectiveness, cut sharp points } along outer rim) } } 6. High-tech wind chimes } } 7. Party games galore (disc toss, wickets for marbles croquet, hang the } disc on the peg, targets for squirt guns, etc.) } } 8. Napkin rings } } 9. Christmas decorations (put lights, the large ones work best, through } the hole in the disc.  For added effect, leave discs in sun to warp } first) } } 10. Do-it-yourself Disco Ball (glue to a beach ball, hang in the center } of the room, point colored and strobe lights at it, dig out your } ugliest bell-bottomed polyester suit and boogie) } } You owe the Oracle $45.95 for the hard bound, coffee-table edition (or } $29.95 for the paperback edition) and an LP of Saturday Night Fever.

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

> Oh most brobdingnagian Oracle, if one painter can paint five houses in > fifteen days, how long will it take three houses to paint twenty > painters?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} About thirty seconds, assuming all twenty painters are stacked } side-by-side, sardine-style, on the floor, the better for the freshly } painted houses to roll over them. } } You owe the Oracle a story problem with a happy ending.

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

> O Great Oracle, please tell me: > > The other day I was watching TV, and something called a "soup opera" > came on.  What does that mean anyway? > > Yours etc, > Deeply Concerned.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} "Oh, Alexis," Vicki moaned, writhing with ecstasy (or was it } intestinal from that bad clam chowder she had for lunch?), "YESS!! } Oh God, yes...oh please, more...more...MORE tomato soup, please! } It's goood eatin'!" } } "Coming right up!", Alexis called out from the kitchen. In a minute she } emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of tomato noodle soup. } She set it down in front of Vicki. } } Vicki stared down into the soup. Her face turned grey and she fell } forward, right into the bowl. } } "Vicki! Vicki, are you all right?" Alexis shrieked. She administered } mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to Vicki and she came to. } } "Oh, Alexis, I just had the most horrible flashback! When I was eight } years old, I was molested by my piano teacher, Bruce. He held me down } and forced me to slurp tomato soup while he did the most HORRIBLE } things to me! I repressed the memory until now, when I realized that } the tomato soup you just served me is *EXACTLY* like the tomato soup } he molested me with!" } } Alexis stared back in shock. When she was finally able to speak, } she said, "Vicki...I've never told anyone this before, but Bruce is } my half-brother. I taught him how to make that tomato soup while he } was studying at the Conservatory and needed to stretch the meager } cents he earned by giving piano lessons to elementary schoolers." } } Will Vicki and Alexis reconcile their painful soup-oriented memories? } Will Bruce get caught fondling Big Boys in the produce section at } Shop-Rite? Will poor little Wilma finally rise up a level in the } pecking order? (oops, that would be a *coop* opera) Stay tuned for } the next episode of...ALL MY RECIPES. } } You owe the Oracle a bar of soup-flavored soap.

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

> Buddy..can ya spare a dime?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh god, not another Sprint commercial...

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

> Oh Oracle, he who knows more about women than he's letting on, tell > me... > > What's up with Tara?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Alan Miller 05/01/97 06:21 PM } }           The slaves are gone.  The cotton industry isn't what it used } to be.  Sherman is *still* a bad word around the place.  Wearing blue } at dinner is frowned upon.  Drawling "Y'all" is popular again.  Iced } tea (sweet, of course) with lime is back in the rage.  Belle gowns are } coming back (have you any idea how *much* you can hide under there ?). } Fried chicken (Fuzzy is not invited) and pecan pie absolutely * make* } an afternoon lunch under the oak tree by the rushing brook.  Manners, } common courtesey, and smiling are quite common.  Decency, southerners, } and charm are not yet dead, and frankly my dear supplicant, I *do* } give a damn. } } I'll never go hungry again.  You owe the oracle a home cooked meal } with all the trimmings.

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

> Oracle, Oh Oracle of Oracles of Oracles and that sort of grovelly > stuff, tell me... > > I'm attempting to slavishly imitate the style of the author Douglas > Adams, but I'm not having much luck, especially with the clever bits. > Should I continue, or should I try to imitate the style of *Scott* > Adams, whose style is as easy as a cheap whore with a sex addiction?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Why not try combining the two? } } "Your boss's brain is small.  Really small.  You just won't believe how } minimally claustrophobically mind-bogglingly small it is.  I mean, you } may think it's a short way from the elevator to the receptionist's } desk, but that's the distance from here to Alpha Centauri to your } boss's brain." } } You owe the Oracle the royalties from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the } Cubicle."

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

> Oh Oracle, the man with the shovel, we got a problem here... > > Glancing through some old Oracularities a while back, we at the > Institute found the question of a supplicant who accidentally created a > bunch of immortal mice. Now, we thought this was absolutely > preposterous, but we managed to get some of their experimental records, > and attempted to duplicate the results. > > I don't want to say that we were scared by the results but Todd, our > janitor, went on strike when Dr. Haislett... well, let's not get into > that. We tried a few of the tests in the original Oracularity and got > frustratingly similar results (have you ever seen a mouse eat your > assistant's engagement ring? It's not pretty). So we decided to try our > own experiment, based on your advice. > > As you know, the Institute is located on the East Coast, and we had a > more-than-generous red tide scare over the summer. Consequently, we had > plenty of paralyzed clams lying around. While the paralytic shellfish > poisoning appeared to work, we found that these mice had the ability to > regenerate damage to their nervous systems, a fact we found out much to > our chagrin when our test subjects attempted to gnaw their way through > the incinerator door and wound up setting a massive fire in the steam > plant building. > > We made special arrangements with the Seabrook nuclear power plant in > New Hampshire to see what happened if we subjected them to nuclear > radiation. Knowing that they couldn't stomach the taste of cadmium > (though it wasn't actually toxic to them (nothing is), our observations > were that it had a tendency to react like chewing on tinfoil in their > mouths), it was a simple matter to keep them restrained in the fuel > rods. The end result was less than promising; not only did they > survive, but it was a simple matter of shaving them to decontaminate > them. Subsequent tests on the fur obtained indicated almost surreal > levels of lead, a factor which I can attribute only to Dr. Farmington's > frequent habit of carrying them in the trunk of her '72 Cadillac. We > did notice that their restraints were very badly chewed; I was informed > last week by letter that due to some inexplicable damage to the reactor > control mechanisms we were to be shot on sight if we ever entered the > town of Seabrook again. Nothing personal, of course. > > The ever-enterprising Dr. Choe attempted to sell his soul to the devil > to find out a way to kill these things, but apparently Satan has enough > scientists for the time being and told him to call back in about twelve > years. > > A contact in New York offered to try some studies in the effects of > kinetic impact on the mice and wound up denting a few sidewalks when he > whipped three of them off the antenna of the taller tower of the World > Trade Center. According to the latest sports pages, his associate, Mr. > Strawberry, has been placed on the disabled list for several weeks by > his organization. > > Several colleagues at our satellite campus in Boston attempted to > subject the mice to a steady diet of Boston radio personality Howie > Carr. This only succeeded in making the two subjects develop a conquest > fetish; they were last seen in the vicinity of Fort Knox attempting to > run off with some gold bars. > > Dr. Colvin was responsible for our most recent effort, in which we > attempted to freeze them and use them for hockey pucks. I can only > imagine what the Institute's accounting office will say when they see > the bill for that one. We're seriously considering writing to the > French military and asking them to include a few of our mice in their > next nuclear test. > > Needless to say, we have problems. Now please help me here: how do we > kill these damn things, and if we can't what possible commercial use > are they?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} You shouldn't mistake your inability to kill those mice with } immortality. A small turbulence of your sun producing a } super-duper-nova would easily cancel your misproducts out of } existence. So, these mice are clearly mortal. This just to clarify } things. } } Ah - you mean - you want to kill them without destroying the rest of } your corner of the galaxy, too? You want to do it in the subtle way? } Ok, I'll help you, but keep it for yourself: in the last level of } 'Doom' (TM) there is some very secret room (which has only been found } by a handful of 'Doom' (TM) addicts up to now) where you can find some } super-hyper-mega weapon with which you can kill any being in a } fraction of a second. } } Oh - you mean - that's only a game and the weapon is just imaginative } and therefore of no use?  Oh yes, you are right, that won't } work... Humm, let's see... Yeah, take all the mice put them in a } time-travel machine and send them some hundred years into the future - } so they will become a problem of future generations and not yours. } } What? You - you don't have one? Ohh, I forgot that you don't have a } time travel machine yet. It will only be invented after the next Big } Bang, so there's still some time to go. Hmmmm, ok, now I finally have } a simple and reliable idea; you can use the same methods that you } applied to the mice to generate 'immortal' cats. Well, those will deal } with the mice. As for the commercial aspect, the chase will certainly } serve as certain kind of entertainment for the watching of which you } could try to charge a fee. } } You owe the Oracle a collection of the 'Best of Tom and Jerry' } cartoons.

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

> Oh wise one whom I admire with all my heart... > > Tell me your story.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} My story?  I know that no supplicant, not even you, would be so } derangedly foolish as to ask about my personal life.  So I'll assume } you're asking about my new children's book, _Death and Bloody } Destruction_, coming to finer bookstores everywhere on May 28. } } Though agreements with my publisher mean I can't tell you the whole } story, I *am* allowed to give you, you lucky fool, FREE SNEAK PREVIEWS } of a few select excerpts. . . } } From the title page: } } "                     DEATH AND BLOODY DEST. . ." } } From the bottom margin of page 6: } } " }                               6 }                                                               " } } From page 17: } } ". . .the pool o. . . }   . . .as it oozed. . . }    . . .he rotted an. . . }     . . .the putresce. . . }        . . .maimed all. . . }          . . .wretched supp. . . }           . . .ow any bet. . . }         . . .acle, in h. . . }           . . .sdom and m. . . }            . . .ation of u. . . }           . . .odchucks' ulul. . . }              . . .ersim. . . }                 . . .wkw. . ." } } From the inner margins of pages 32-33: } } "     | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       | }       |       " } } From page 41: } } ". . .q. . ." } } From the back page: } } " } } } } } } }                                                               " } } You owe the Oracle a thoughtful piece of literary criticism in the New } Yorker--and supplicant, it'd better be good (glances menacingly).

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

> tell me > > -- >                     Chocolate Is The One True Passion >                          http://www.choco.com >                         The Chocolate Archives

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} *ahem* ... } } "Chocolate Is The One True Passion." } } Oh, I'm sorry... you wanted me to do it in William F. Buckley's voice? } } *ahem* } } "Ah, yes, well, chocolate, hmmmm, yes, it is, hmmm, yes, the on... } one... true, yes, well, passion, yes, hmm." } } You owe the Oracle a life-size chocolate statue of Mr. Buckley.