[IO]
Internet Oracle
20 Apr 2014 home : about : create : digests : bestofs : specials : priests 11:27:33 GMT

Internet Oracularities #499

Goto:
499, 499-01, 499-02, 499-03, 499-04, 499-05, 499-06, 499-07, 499-08, 499-09, 499-10


Usenet Oracularities #499    (40 votes, 2.9 mean)
Compiled-By: "Steve Kinzler" <kinzler@cs.indiana.edu>
Date: Thu, 12 Nov 1992 08:00:32 -0500

To find out how to participate in the Usenet Oracle, send mail to:
   oracle@cs.indiana.edu or {ames,rutgers}!iuvax!oracle
with the word "help" in the subject line.

Let us know what you like!  Send your ratings of these Oracularities on
an integer scale of 1 = "not funny" to 5 = "very funny" with the volume
number to oracle-vote on iuvax (probably just reply to this message).
For example:
   499
   2 1 3 4 3   5 3 3 4 1

499   40 votes 248k6 6ia42 6bc83 1385n 9k830 d9d32 356ga 5f983 1bgb1 agd10
499   2.9 mean  3.6   2.5   2.8   4.2   2.1   2.3   3.6   2.7   3.0   2.1


499-01    (248k6 dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: RICH MCGEE <MCGEE@nic.CSU.net>

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

>    Oh mighty and tempestuous Oracle, who sees all, knows all, hears
>    all, whose workstation makes a Cray look like an Timex Sinclair,
>    whose secondary storage takes up a whole other planet, who knows
>    *both* Cadbury secrets, who has determined who the 6th replicant
>    is, who knows how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, and
>    exactly (to the nearest boardfoot) just how much w*** a w***c****
>    could c**** if a w***c**** could c**** w***, but for the good of
>    all mankind, wants that kept a secret, who knows that the right
>    answer *isn't* 42, whose can move mountains (and Mohammed), whose
>    InterNet address is 1.1.1.1 (or was that 255.255.255.255?), who
>    has never had a cavity, or pimple, or dandruff, or the hiccups,
>    or even a hangnail, who knows Ross Perot's ultimate plan, every
>    blond and lighbulb joke, who knows why I got only an A- on the
>    systems part of the course, why stars go nova, and the meaning of
>    "It's all in the wrist!", and who never has to go out to buy a
>    newspaper, who has two copies of Superman #1, pictures of the
>    Grassy Knoll, and Madonna's home phone number, who could leap
>    over speeding trains at a single bound, who has the results of
>    the human genome project, who uses cold fusion to prepare those
>    wonderful meals for Lisa, who has friends amoung all the deities,
>    who engineered the sun-moon-apparent-size equality which gives us
>    those astonishing solar eclipses, please answer me this:
>
>                    Was that grovel good enough??

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Dear Supplicant,
}    In the name of truth and fairness, *I'm* answering this one.  Now,
} I know Orrie likes to hear humans squirm and squiggle "'neath his
} mighty toes" or whatever, but I just wanted to fill you in on some of
} the _less_ praiseworthy aspects of your pal and mine, the Oracle:
}
} - he's atrocious with leaving his underwear everywhere.  What a slob.
} - he farts in bed.  Without warning.  Nasty ones, too.
} - he really doesn't remember creating the platypus or Stockdale: *he*
}   swears that they were intentional, but *I* know they were the result
}   of some "business meeting" he went off to a few eons back.  Orrie
}   can't hold his liquor, and I just *know* that one of those other
}   dieties took advantage of him while he was under the table --
}   probably dared the lug to do it.  Men.
} - he never sends flowers.
} - he's a hazard in the kitchen.  I won't even let him near the ice
}   maker 'cause he sets off the smoke alarms every time he makes a
}   drink. (I don't know how, but trust me, he just *does*.)
} - he's got all the fashion sense of a cucumber salad.  I've got scads
}   of Christmas scarves from him hidden away (still in the boxes.)
}   UG-LY.  I'm still trying to figure out what to do with them all.
}   Maybe sew them together in a balloon and fly to Kansas.
} ...
}
} Oh, supplicant, the list goes on.  (He's also real anal-retentive and
} won't let me touch his computer.  Go figure.  It's like I'm three
} years old or something.)  Remember, next time you want info., go ahead
} and ask Orrie, but next time you want the *facts*, you just write to
} me.
}                                                - Lisa


499-02    (6ia42 dist, 2.5 mean)
Selected-By: nolan@helios.unl.edu (Harold the Foot)

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

> Please?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} No! I am not going to paddle your bare behind again until you get those
} hemorrhoids treated... oh... dear.. this isn't Lisa?


499-03    (6bc83 dist, 2.8 mean)
Selected-By: Carole Susan Fungaroli <csf7m@faraday.clas.Virginia.EDU>

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

> Oh great and wise Oracle, who has more raisins per scoop than any
> cereal on the market, who has had better ideas than nut covered
> raisins, and often has entire breakfasts consisting of things other
> than fiber and raisins... Please answer this humble supplicant's
> question.
>
> I was eating some cereal, and it came free with raisins, aparently.
> However, the box said nothing about them, and some seemed to move
> occasionally. Is this bad?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} It depends on your point of view.  If you were one of those little
} critters about to get eaten, you'd be a little upset.  But as a
} superior being, weilding your SPOON OF DESTRUCTION over the helpless,
} cowering beings ... it's a different story.
}
} I mean, really.  You could just put one on the table and
}
} *** SQUISH ***
}
} it with the round part of your spoon, watching it's guts spew all over
} the place.  Then you could flick a few of them across the room and
} make them stick to the wall.  Drown a few in milk.  Force feed six or
} eight of them to your dog!
}
} Do they have legs?
}
} You could pull them off one by one ... yeah yeah yeah yeah!


499-04    (1385n dist, 4.2 mean)
Selected-By: CLHP19@VAXB.STRATHCLYDE.AC.UK

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

> Okay Orrie,
>
> This planet isn't big enough for the two of us. I'll meet you in front
> of Delphi at High Noon tomorrow.
>
>               Thor.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} The sence is Delphi.  The cheering crowds are composed of Vikings
} warriors armed with battle axs, spears, broadswords, daggers, maces,
} slingshots, ect. and computer science students armed mostly with a WAN
} network of UNIX machines and several cases of Jolt.  The referee steps
} into the ring.  He is small energetic man from Chicago.
}
} "Ladieees and Gentlmen..."
}
} The Vikings boo.  Someone throws a mace.
}
} "...iiin This Corna!  The boy from Valhalla,  the weilder of
} Mojllinier.. THOR, God of Thunder !"
}
} A heavily muscled god (I mean we are talking he has muscles on his
} muscles) stands up and waves a very large hammer.
}
} The Vikings cheer and go wild.  Three monitors and a laser printer are
} smashed. The Vikings are amply stocked with mead and begin to drink
} heavily.  Most of the Vikings suddenly have their credit ratings
} DRASTICALLY reduced in in computer files around the world.  This does
} not appear to worry them.
}
} "Iiiiiiin This Corna!  The local champion! The Omnicient, Omnipotent
} Uuuuuuusenet Oracle!"
}
} A wise, and good looking god wearing a toga stands and raises his
} hands. A bueatiful godess looks on in adoration.  The CS students seem
} to cheer more for her then the Oracle.  A Viking standing behind her
} does something rude.  He recieves a quick knee to the groin, goes down
} and does not get up again.  The Vikings give Lisa a little space.
}
} "Awright boys, come here and shake hands."  Thor blows snot on the
} ring. "Now you know the rules, no hitting below the belt, no rabbit
} punchs and no destroying the world in your struggle.  Now go back to
} your corna and come out fighting."
}
} The ref jumps out of the ring and gets behind some heavy lead
} shielding.
}
} (ding)
}
} <ZOT>[RUMBLE]<ZOT><ZOT>[CRASH][BOOM]<ZOT>[BOOM][Cr-aaa-ks][BOOM]
} [THUMP]<ZOT><ZOT><!!ZOT!!>[rumblerumblerumblerumbleB O O M]<duck>
} <ZOT><ZOT>[Ka-BOOM!><zot>[BOOM][!!BOOM!!][CHRUSH][GRIND]<zot>[B O O M]
}
} (ding)
}
} Several hundred of the Vikings are incinerated.  The CS students had
} politly "allowed" them to get ringside seats.  Thor goes to his corner
} and drains a keg of mead.  The Oracle stagger back to his corner and
} collapses onte his stool.  He is bleeding from his nose and both ears.
} "Orri, you idiot! You are fighting his kind of fight.  Don't let this
} Nordic redneck from the iceage kick your butt!".  Gasp, pant  "Your
} right Lis'.  Okay."
}
} (ding)
}
} [rummmbleBOOM]<rm -r /dev/Mojllinier> "Hey! vot are you doing?"
} <cntl-C> "I vill get you!" <kill -9 T...> [lighting bolts all over the
} world rain down on computer centers everywhere.  California is
} devastated, as is other localized areas such as New York and Boston.
} Surge protectors everwhere kick in but in most cases they just melt.
} Many hard disks are crashed.  Much of the backbone connections for
} internet are wiped out. IBM declares a fire sale.]
}
} (ding)
}
} The Oracle is seriously burnt.  Lisa doses him with a bucket and puts
} out his toga.  Thor does not look well either, he is pale and glassy
} eyed.  "Orri, koff, koff, you got to do something!" The Oracle manages
} a nod.
}
} (ding)
}
} "How much wood co.."  Thor craftily kicks the Oracle in the stomach.
} The two foes circle warily, looking for a hold.  The CS students start
} chanting "Thor is obsolete.  He is a great big geek."  The surviving
} Vikings rush them but are repelled with great losses.  This give the
} Usenet Oracle an idea.  Pointing his finger "You are old Thor.  You're
} out dated. That what this is all about!" Thor screams "Shuten Upen!"
} and rushes.  The Oracle step one side and sticks out his foot. Thor,
} the towering mountain range of muscle that he is, does a face plant.
} The Oracle jumps on his back.
}
} (ding)
} "shit"
}
} Both fighters go to their corners.  Thor drains two kegs of mead.  Lisa
} rubs the Oracles shoulders.  "Orri, keep up the attack. I have an
} idea."
}
} (ding)
}
} Thor looks dangerous. He makes slow pawing motions with his hands as he
} circles.  "Admit it Thor, supermarkets confuse you.  You like M-TV
} but only heavy metal.  You can't fill out a tax form."  Thor rallies
} "Der Viking live un looten und pillagen."  "An old idea based on an old
} system.  Free market economics prevail today." "Girly Mun!" "You
} are old fasioned and quaint."  "Real mun don't eat quiche!"  Suddenly
} Lisa stands up waving a cellular telephone.  "Yoo hoo Thooooooor.
} I have a phone call for you."  Thor looks suspisious.  "It your wife."
} Thor looks scared. He cradles the reciever. "Um, goodenmuning
} dukinshin.. NO! I...I vork late....No i din't get fired again....
} ...yes I know dur economy is not that good...no..but..but...no..
} awcomon...no."  He sighs and absently crushes the phone.  Without
} looking the Oracle in the eye, Thor climbs out of the rings and head
} home.
}
} Disappointed and sobered Vikings (which amount to the same thing)
} trail after him, dragging broadswords and battleaxs in the dust.  The
} CS students let out a cheer.  The ref sticks his head up.
} "The winner and still champiiiooon, the Usenet Oracle!"
}
} [Much later after a very large party]
}
} The Oracle leans back back with hands on his head.  "Ya know Lis'
} I guess family values are good for something after all."


499-05    (9k830 dist, 2.1 mean)
Selected-By: nolan@helios.unl.edu (Harold the Foot)

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

> bit biiiii bi bit biiiiii bi byte bit byte byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyte
> byte biiiiiiiii tttttttttt ti ti ti ti ti tiii titi

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Nibble,nibble,nibble <SQUASH>
} floooooooop, miiiiiips, miiiiiiiiiiiips <SQUASH, SQUASH>
}
} You owe the oracle another Don Martin cartoon


499-06    (d9d32 dist, 2.3 mean)
Selected-By: Todd Radel <radel@bach.udel.edu>

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

> What drugs what George Bush taking, anyway?  And where can I get some?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Who's George Bush? And why are you wearing that marshmallow pie?
} Wow man, like, this is REALLY far out, dude...
} Can't you get it? It's a beauuutiful sunshine and it's all like, THERE!
}
} You owe the Oracle. But he loves you anyway.


499-07    (356ga dist, 3.6 mean)
Selected-By: buck@sunyit.edu (Jesse Buckley)

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

> Oh mighty and artistic Oracle,
> both gifted in arts and science, please tell me:
>
> If they were to make a new sequel of "Indiana Jones", would it play
> in the White House, which title would it have, and which parts would
> Dan Quayle and George Bush play?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

}                            INDIANA QUAYLE
}                                AND THE
}                    SEARCH FOR THAT DARN DOG MILLIE
}
} Scene 1
}
}      The sound of papers shuffling restlessly nearly drowned out the
} voice of Professor Quayle as the class bell approached with its swift
} and final mercy.  "Now we see by definition two that we can prove
} theorem three--but I haven't given you the second definition, have I?
} The theorem is trivial anyway, I'll let you prove it on the next exam,
} maybe.  You can see that this theorem has many applications, that is,
} um, well, you will see the applications in your other classes.  Let me
} write down your assignment...<scribble>  Show how 'Red Storm Rising'
} proves that we should develop anti-satellite weaponse.  That word
} doesn't look right."
}      "It's spelled without an 'E,'" a student suggested.
}      "Oh, right," Quayle nodded.  "Waponse."
}      As the bell rang and the class lunged for the door, an older man,
} the chairman of the department, slipped in and approached the
} professor.  "Indy, there are some men here to see you.  They are from
} the Republican Party."
}      Quayle set down his eraser, a serious glint in his eyes.  "Show
} them in," he said.
}      The group of men sat down in the classroom and some papers and
} photos were passed to Quayle.  He glanced through them and immediately
} dropped them to the table.  "You can't be serious.  When were these
} photos taken?"
}      "Yesterday," said the Republican.
}      "Ah, think of it," Quayle rubbed his chin excitedly, "the
} President's dog Millie, lost after all these days, and it turns out she
} might still be on the White House grounds.  Do the Democrats know?"
}      "Yes, that's why we're here.  Herr Furher Clinton has ordered
} searches for her three shifts a day.  He's obsessed with finding her
} first.  Will you help us find the Lost Dog of Bush?"
}      "Of course, it would be a vice president's dream," Quayle
} answered. "It won't be easy.  You know what Millie means to our Party.
} If Clinton's cat Boots finds her--we MUST succeed."
}      Quayle nodded sagely, "If we do not succeed, we run the risk of
} failure."
}      The Republican looked relieved.  "Are you ready?  Is there
} anything you need from us?"
}      Quayle looked the Republican in the eye and replied, "One word
} sums up probably the responsibility of any ex-vice president, and that
} word is 'to be prepared.'  I'm ready, all right."
}      The Republican clapped his hands together.  "I knew he would be
} our man!  Do you know what to do, Indy?  Do you have a plan of action?"
}      "Certainly," the professor answered, "I would know what to do, and
} when I ah Vice President--and I will be--there will be contingency
} plans under different sets of situations and I tell you what, I'm not
} going to go out and hold a press conference about it, I'm going to put
} it in a safe and keep it there!  Does that answer your question?"
}      Satisfied, the Republicans left Quayle to stare wonderingly into
} the picture of a little lost dog named Millie, lost since the day Bush
} moved out of the White House.
}
} Scene 2
}
}      "Hello, Marilyn," Indy said.
}      Marilyn whirled around from her seat at the country club bar.
} "Well," she intoned coldly, "what brings you out to this little piece of
} heaven?"
}      Indy clearly felt the chill in her words, but would not be put
} off.  "When we were at the White House, your father used to play a lot
} with-- Bush's dog."
}      "You mean M--"
}      "Shh!" Quayle interrupted. "There's--Democrats--everywhere these
} days.  It's like a disease, like the country has lost its mind.  What a
} terrible thing to have lost one's mind.  Or not to have a mind at all.
} How true that is."  And he fell silent.
}     Marilyn casually downed a shot of vodka.  "You were saying?"
}     "I remember that when your father played with--Bush's dog--he had a
} rubber bone.  Whenever he had it, Millie--darn!--the dog would follow
} him everywhere.  I know you kept it, Marilyn.  I'd like to borrow it
} for a while."
}      "Get your own bone, you bastard," she snapped.  "I had plans.
} Plans to be the first, FIRST lady, and you just--just--you didn't even
} apologize!"
}      "I can only say I'm sorry so many times, Marilyn."
}      "Well, say it again."
}      "I'm sorry."  He paused.  "Do you have the bone?  I'll pay you ten
} thousand for it.  That's a lot of money."
}      Marilyn reached down into her bra and pulled out a large, white
} rubber bone, the word 'Hartz' nearly chewed into illedgability.
}     But just then the bar door opened and a blast of arctic air
} savagely blew through the room.  A shadow fell across the floor and
} moved along it, curling across tables and chairs, feeling its icy way
} toward the couple.  It halted.
}      "Gore," Quayle said as if the name made him wretch, "I knew it was
} only a matter of time before I ran into you again."
}      "In ze flesh," Gore replied.  To Marilyn, he said, "Zis man is
} goot, but he has all ze wrong friends."
}      "What are you going to do to her?" Quayle demanded.
}      "Zey don't call me 'Gore' for nozzing you know.  I tink for ze
} beginning, I vill make you vead my book--"
}      "NO!" Marilyn screeched in terror.
}      "Und zen ve vill discuss ze matter of ze Millie's bone.  You vill
} tell me it's location.  Ve have ze vays of getting ze information.
} Vhat do you say to zat, Indiana?"
}      Cool as ever, Quayle put on his rose-colored glasses and simply
} said, "We'll let the sunshine in and shine on us, because we're happy
} and tomorrow we'll be even happier."
}
}                  WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO INDY AND MARILYN?
}                WILL OUR HEROES BE SAVED BY BUSH IN TIME?
}                  OR WILL WE NEED TO CALL IN THE GIPPER?
}           HOW WILL INDY GET BACK ONTO THE WHITE HOUSE GROUNDS?
}
}               FIND OUT IN NEXT WEEK'S EXCITING EPISODE OF
}                            INDIANA QUAYLE AND
}                   THE SEARCH FOR THAT DARN DOG MILLIE!


499-08    (5f983 dist, 2.7 mean)
Selected-By: asbestos@nwu.edu (Michael A. Atkinson)

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

> Oh Oracle most parallelized:
>
> Rumour and scuttlebutt has it that Kinzler wrote you in... perl!!!  Is
> this true?  Wouldn't you rather be written in something more chic,
> like Prolog?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} ERROR IN STATEMENT


499-09    (1bgb1 dist, 3.0 mean)
Selected-By: David Sewell <dsew@troi.cc.rochester.edu>

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

> Wonderful, wise, and witty one:
> Since:   I could give a shit = I don't give a shit
> Then:                 shit = not shit
>
> Simularly: I could care less = I couldn't care less
> and:               care less = not ( care less )
>
> Therefore:                 x = not x
>
> It follows that boolean logic is a crock of shit ( or not shit as shown
> Therefore devices that operate on boolean logic cannot be trusted.
> And since your universe is composed intirely of boolean logic devices
> then you are obviously in deep shit and cannot be trusted.
>
> It is left as an exercise for the Oracle to show that:
> Oracle = not Oracle
>
> ZOT me If you must. I no longer fear for I know that ZOT = not ZOT

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Of course I can't be trusted.  Do you think a Being as Omnipotent as
} Myself would stoop to being trustworthy to a supplicant such as
} yourself? However, you've made several fatal errors which I, in My
} Infinite Wisdom, will point out to you.
}
} 1>  I am _not_ binary based.  In fact, I haven't even been ternary
}     based for about 17,000 years.
} 2>  Basic syllogistic logic is an outdated experiment of a dead Greek
}     Empire.  In fact, the only valid reminder of that Empire is the
}     inescapable wealth of "We Are Happy To Serve You" Greek coffee
}     cups. In other words, logic is a lemon.
}
} 3>  Since ZOT = not ZOT,
}
} <NOT-ZZZZZZOTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!>
}
} You owe the Oracle a chicken gyro platter and an excluded middle.


499-10    (agd10 dist, 2.1 mean)
Selected-By: Todd Radel <radel@bach.udel.edu>

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

> Oh Great Oracle, I can't understand my lime! What shall I do? Can you
> help?
>
> Yours faithfully,
> Uncomprehending.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} That is because your lime has transmuted into a frog and hopped away
} into the night in a flurry of slime and warts.  The lime you have now
} is an alien replacement, which speaks only the Martian dialect.
}
} Fortunately, if you understand the speech of watermelons, you can
} translate between the two fairly easily.  Just grease the watermelon
} fluently and make sure it's happily snuggled between two bananas.
}
} You owe the Oracle the Mandelbrot set in COLOR.


© Copyright 1989-2014 The Internet OracleTM Contact oracle-web@cs.indiana.edu