From kinzler@cs.indiana.edu Tue Mar 26 0:00:00 1991 Path: news.cs.indiana.edu!att!pacbell.com!decwrl!looking!funny-request Message-id: Date: Tue, 26 Mar 91 6:30:4 EST Newsgroups: rec.humor.funny From: kinzler@iuvax.cs.indiana.edu (Steve Kinzler) Subject: Best of Usenet Oracularities #176-200 Keywords: various Approved: funny@looking.on.ca === 176-200 - 4.0 ======================================================== Title: Best of Usenet Oracularities #176-200 Compiled-By: Steve Kinzler Date: Tue, 26 Mar 91 6:30:4 EST Oracularities are the distilled wisdom and sagacity of the Usenet Oracle, as incarnated as its numerous e-mail participants (only you know who you are). This collection has been compiled from the regular Oracularities postings #176 through #200 and contains the Oracularities rated by its readers as among the funniest. To find out more about the Usenet Oracle, send mail to: oracle@iuvax.cs.indiana.edu or {ames,rutgers}!iuvax!oracle with the word "help" in the subject line. The regular Oracularities postings can be found in the Usenet newsgroup alt.humor.oracle. --- 176-02 00103 4.5 ----------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Steve Kinzler The Usenet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > What has been done in america to help the iranian earthquake victims? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Americans have taken over the responsibility of burning their flag, } which should free up about a dozen Iranians to help dig out the } survivors. } } You owe the oracle a seismograph. --- 193-09 01215 4.1 ----------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Steve Kinzler The Usenet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > What is the difference between software and hard water? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } Bugs drown in hard water, but live forever in software. --- 177-10 21017 3.9 ----------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Steve Kinzler The Usenet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > What is true stress? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } True stress is when you have invited the vicar over, and he's supposed } to arrive in half an hour and the cook has cut the cucumbers too thick } for cucumber sandwiches, only when she tries to cut them in half they } come out too thin and look ever so sloppy, and Fifi is sitting on the } settee in the parlor and scratching as if she has fleas and might just } very well leave some of them on the settee and give them to the vicar if } he should chance to sit upon the settee, only the butler is off } polishing his shoes and the gardner is too grubby to even so much as } look at the settee, much less touch it. } } And then you discover that your white gown is half an inch too short, } and your blue gown is half an inch too long, and the only one remaining } is the red one that looks as if you are some sort of loose woman, but } you haven't any choice and the vicar is *sure* to inquire about it. } } And then the butler comes in and he must have polished the soles of his } shoes, as they leave black footprints on the floor and on the oriental } rug, and it's not to be endured. } } And then the cook announces that there are no currants for the scones, } and should she make due with sultanas, or could the gardner be sent to } town to get some currants if you don't mind having the scones a little } late, and by the way there's only salted butter, no fresh, so maybe the } gardner had better be sent to town for that even if it will take him } longer, and by the way Fifi got into the cream cake and sat in it, and } went hopping around the kitchen leaving little creamy footsteps, and so } there won't be any cream cake for the vicar even though everyone knows } that it's his favorite, and there's no helping it at all. } } And then Fifi comes into the parlor, still covered with cream, and sits } on the blue chaise lounge and starts licking her hinder parts just as if } she weren't absolutely ruining the rug and the lounge and her dear } beloved mistress' party all at the same time, and the cook goes to pick } the poor dear up, and she trips on the rug which you had lifted to see } the extent of the damage, and she flounders wildly into the Ming vase to } the right of the fireplace, and it falls over and smashes a crystal } decanter of port into tiny shards, and a tiny chip breaks off of the } mouth of the vase, and the cook has a black eye, and Fifi gives a little } shriek and jumps up and runs across the room leaving more footprints of } cream, and the cook is too upset to clean up the decanter before she } goes and puts a slice of beefsteak on her eye, so the room shall smell } of port when the vicar comes in. } } And the gardner has just changed his clothes, and he comes in to move } the *settee* rather than the lounge, and when you finally tell him to } move the *lounge* rather than the settee, and bring one or two of the } chairs from the library, and he does, and then he sits on the settee and } you notice that he's forgotten to change his jacket, and now the settee } will smell faintly of perspiration as well as probably having fleas. } } But there's no helping it, for now the doorbell is ringing and you go to } answer it and it's not the vicar, but three Denebian slime devils who } have crash-landed their flying saucer in the back yard, and now they } want to use the hyperspace radio and if they can't they'll just have to } eat everyone in the household and then turn them into mindless slaves } and sell them beyond the Dark Nebula, only it's the nineteenth century } and you haven't got a hyperspace radio, but the butler comes out and } engages the slime devils in a bit of an imbroglio. } } And then the vicar arrives, punctual as always, and finds your house in } total disorder. That's stress. } } The Oracle has stressed out. You owe the Oracle a stress-pill. --- 192-01 10224 3.9 ----------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Steve Kinzler The Usenet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > How can I make her love me? Any love-potions or implantable devices? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } The following eight-step plan will lead to her loving you and craving } your body with a desparate passion, though not necessarily at the same } time. } } 1. Wrap your body in a blue-green sheet, the feathers of a condor ("the } gigantic carrion-eating bird of love"), fifty carnations, a bastinet, } a red trash bag, and a tub of peanut butter (with marshmallows if } possible). } } 2. Approach her, speaking sweetly, and speaking with the most pleasant } of breath. Kiss her hand when she is not expecting it. Caper } extravagantly. Show off your fine plumage. Whisper sweet nothings } into her seven ears. Ply her with delicacies, crawdads glazed with } honey and thyme (the crustacean of love). Serve her small elegant } glasses of the finest liqueurs. Bring her a whole roasted zucchini } bedecked with apples and custard, a soup of the finest mussels and } slippery-elm leaves. Exquisite! } } 3. Declare for her your undying passion. You should not be too specific } at this point. Rather than saying "Oh, Emily, I want you to perform } Act #32 from the Kama Sutra, except with you in the trapeze rather } than astride the llama", you must say something more abstract and } ethereal: "Ah, Emily, behold! The stars in the sky are like goldfish } (the spiny fish of love) tonight! They experience such joy as they } swim around the heavens nibbling crunchlets of fish food scattered } unto them by the hand of the Goddess." Indirection is the key here. } } 4. At this point9 she will get the idea of what you are after. She will } pretend not to understand, as a way of avoiding the issue. } } 5. Suddenly, become cold and despairing. Declaim "Alas, Emily! Would } that I loved a spiny anteater instead of thee! I cannot bear the } coldness, the despair! Alas! I am foredone and done for! Doom is } my fate, and gloom is my mate, that I must endure without thee! Woe, } woe is me! Alas, alas! I must swiftly hie me away to far Paris, } where with expensive wines and garlic-drenched snails (the escargot } of love) I will strive mightily to forget thee!" [Warning: do not } say this unless her name is actually Emily.] } } 6. Remove from your pocket a carefully-prepared plane ticket to Paris. } Wave it dauntingly in front of her face. As if by accident, allow an } identical ticket (the famed "Coach class transportation of love") to } fall from your pocket in a most visible place on the floor. Make } sure she sees it. } } 7. When she inquires about the provenance and teleology of this second } ticket, explain in lofty terms that it need not concern her: it is a } matter of complete irrelevance to her life, and she must never think } of it again. Especially, she must no longer think of sharing } "poulet de fou en moutarde" (the famed "chicken of love") on the } banks of the River Seine, not dream of climbing the spires of Notre } Dame de Paris, not even dream idly of the long lines at the Louvre. } Never once should she consider the possibility of drinking the fine } wines of Chateau sur la Piscine '45 after an evening dancing at the } bistro. In a fit of rage, tear up the second ticket and set it } aflame. Stomp out of the room. } } 8. At this point, she will decide to get a ticket to Paris herself. Run } into her, as if by accident, at the Arc du Triomphe, where you have } been trapped for half an hour struggling with a parking ticket (the } famed Parisian "official tourist-hassle of love"). Allow her to help } you deal with it. The rest is up to you. } } You owe the Oracle a year's supply of drugs. I wanna get high on } pennicilin. --- 180-07 11114 3.8 ----------------------------------------------------- Selected-By: Steve Kinzler The Usenet Oracle has pondered your question deeply. Your question was: > Lisp is the language of god, > Fortran is the language of the angels, > Pascal is the language of satan, > modula 2 is the language of the devils, > french is the language of the living, > german is the language of the dead, > but what is the language of dogs? And in response, thus spake the Oracle: } There's no English word for it, nor can I transliterate their language's } name via a computer keyboard. They communicate almost entirely by } sniffing crotches, you see. (Many people incorrectly believe them to } communicate by barking, but this is clearly false--in fact, a number of } breeds, including basenjis, never bark at all. Barking is simply an } extra form of communication, much like facial expressions in humans.) } } It would be almost impossible to describe their language's grammar or } structure, since it is one of the most unstructured and freeform } languages ever devised by intelligent creatures. To give you a feel for } what a dog's world is like, the following is an attempt to translate one } of the works of the single greatest dog poet of all time, Husky, who } lived in the Bronx and marked this poem on a fire hydrant in 1932: } } Shit wow wow wag wag wag! } Meat human heat bitch fuck! } Warm pat scratch eat eat eat! } Kill flea! } Kill car! } Kill DUCK! } } Now, a dog, reading this poem, wouldn't see a string of words in any } particular order; he'd sense all of it at once, and understand the poem } not as a story, but as an observation of a single moment in time. This } particular poem is about a day when Husky was stuck inside, and gazed } out the window at the other dogs, watching them play, and remembering a } long-ago day in the park, when he'd taken (and rolled in) a particularly } satisfying dump. } } I'm sorry I can't teach you more about the language, for it's a } fascinating one. But I hope I've given you a greater respect for the } canine kingdom. } } You owe the Oracle a box of Bonz and a scratch behind the left ear. -- Edited by Brad Templeton. MAIL your jokes (jokes ONLY) to funny@looking.ON.CA Attribute the joke's source if at all possible. A Daemon will auto-reply. Jokes ABOUT major current events should be sent to topical@looking.on.ca (ie. jokes which won't be funny if not given immediate attention.) Anything that is not a joke submission goes to funny-request@looking.on.ca