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

Oh, great and manly/feminine (depending on the incarnation) Oracle, what is it that she thinks of me, this firm blonde woman I love so dearly? Moreover, why can I get my finger to stop bleeding ever since I took a small divot out of it trying to open a can of mandrine oranges? It'll seem okay for a while, but then it starts bleeding again? Where is Mister Rogers when you need him, and is he going to be in Maddona's next video? Why is it that men like the curves on women? Why is the sky blue? Why is the wall blue? Why is my terminal screen--oh, just a second, got my sunglasses on. Anyway where is Kermit the Frog now, after Jim Henson died? I heard he got into a pretty bad crowd. Why is it that there is dried blood on my keyboard? Why is the world spinning? Why ask why? Try Bud Dry. My god, it's full of stars! What does MC Hammer call his personal organ?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

> What is it that she thinks of me, this firm blonde woman I love so dearly?

I shall ask her subconscious... [hiatus] ... I can see why you feel the way you do, and from the little tingle I sensed within her when I mentioned your name, I know she has strong desires. Of course, it may simple have been the sound of my blessed voice that excited her.

> Moreover, why can I get my finger to stop bleeding ever since I took a small divot out of it trying to open a can of mandrine oranges? It'll seem okay for a while, but then it starts bleeding again?

Mandrines have very long, sharp teeth. Next time, make sure you buy known brand products, and then the cans will more likely to have been irradiated to kill the little blighters. To stop the bleeding, dip your finger in the syrup from the can, and say the words `It's full of stars'.

> Where is Mister Rogers when you need him, and is he going to be in Maddona's next video?

Kenny will no longer be appearing live in concert, he will however, appear quite dead in a video clip with Maddona for her latest hit "Once, Twice, Three times a Virgin."

> Why is it that men like the curves on women?

The male fascination with female curvature arises, basically, from early childhood experiences with the curves and straights in toy train sets. All young boys quickly learn that you need curves to make anything that's worth putting your choo-choo near. A few souls discover a slight variation, realizing that you can't go round with straights.

> Why is the sky blue?

All of the universe is made up of the primary colours Red, Blue and Green in equal quantities (thus, the Sun produces white light, a perfectly mixed combination of these colours). Unfortunately, when earth was forming, most of the Blue component (which is lighter, and as such rises) bubbled to the top of the atmosphere. This gives rise to the unusual colouring on the earth: Green and Red living things. Man, for example, is a Red creature. A grape is a green creature (although red ones do exist). The only Blue creatures are a few birds and fish, which worship Blue, and so try to make themselves Good in its light. A similar occurence happens with humans, where many try to look white or black, or some other colour, each believing their Colour to be greatest.

> Why is the wall blue?

Take off your sunglasses.

> Why is my terminal screen--oh, just a second, got my sunglasses on.

The Oracle is truly all-seeing.

> Where is Kermit the Frog now, after Jim Henson died? I heard he got > into a pretty bad crowd.

Kermit, the poor Green One (he was high in the Priesthood here), was so distressed at Jim's death, that he left his world of good friends, and turned to the Dark Toads to seek a reason for his loss. Unfortunately, during the initiation ceremony, where frog stand in the sun for 4 weeks to turn themselves all dry and warty, Kermit simply crumbled to a mass of felt fibres with two little plastic eyes on top.

> Why is it that there is dried blood on my keyboard?

You are SUCH a slow reader! Put your finger in the syrup NOW, you are losing blood.

> Why is the world spinning? Why ask why?

HURRY!

> Try Bud Dry.

No! The syrup!

> My god, it's full of stars!

Okay, phew, now on with the questions...

> What does MC Hammer call his personal organ?

It's just the thing he nails with.

You owe the Oracle a date with the blonde.

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

WHY ISN'T THE EARTH FLAT?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

Unfortunately the usual answer lies in physics. A rotating disk the size of the Earth is not gravitationally stable. The result would be a rather unusual asteroid field.

The REAL answer is more interesting. It all comes back to a conversation that I had with God several millenia ago. As I recall, it went something like this...

God: So Oracle, what do you think of the new universe?

Oracle: Good effort. I give it a 7.

G: WHAT!

O: Well, er, um, the Earth is flat...

G: Yes. Your powers of observation continue to astonish me. So what?

O: A flat disk has to have an edge, so what holds the ocean in?

G: It just pours off in a continuous, enormous waterfall. Quite beautiful really. I'm particularly proud of the spectral effects when the Sun is just coming over the horizon.

O: I do not doubt the artistic value of a flat Earth. However, what happens when the Earth runs out of water?

G: Well... I'll just scoop it out of space and drop it on top again. I'll call it "rain." Lots of nice salty rain with the occasional fish. Animals will appreciate the free eats.

O: Salty rain will be highly corrosive, and the dead fish will smell terrible. Also plants don't like too much salt in the ground.

G: Picky, picky. I guess I will have to extract the salt and fish from the water first.

O: What will you do with the extra salt and fish?

G: I will build magnificent statues of Me. People will say, "God sure is handy with salt and dead fish."

O: Great. Very impressive. I can see it now, a mile high statue of You made entirely of sea salt and dead fish.

G: Now that you put it that way, I can see that there might be an image problem. Fine. I'll just make the Earth round and forget any kind of artistic merit. I like rain though. In fact, I can think of a few specific uses for really heavy rain.

O: You'll thank me in the end.

There you have it. You owe the Oracle the entire Diskworld series.

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

O mighty and most Truly Interesting Oracle, whose boots we are not worthy to lick, and whose peacocks keep us up all night with their noisy lovemaking,

Why is it that a new Oracularities Digest comes out every two days-- and yet whenever I send an "Ask me" I am informed that there are no questions to answer?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

The sun was beating down on the back of my neck like a blackjack as I opened my office door. It was only then that I realized that some cheap hood had made off with my ceiling. I made a mental note to track him down, then realized I was out of mental notepaper. It was not going to be a good day.

The figure I saw lurking behind the diffenbachia added more evidence to support that conclusion. He was about five-four with a pasty-white, pimply complexion. A piece of gold wire supported a pair of glass billiard balls in front of his eyes. A white plastic flap with the letters "IEEE" hung from his shirt pocket. Behind it rode an amazing collection of pens, pencils, screwdrivers, and a Radio Shack logic probe. His clip-on tie languished at the bottom of his open collar. His lips were moving.

"Mr. Iggy, I may have a case for you."

"Teriffic, as long as it's Jack Daniels. In quart bottles."

"I work with computers for a living..."

"How did I ever guess?"

"...and I'm missing something very important."

"I'm not the guy you should talk to then. Look in the yellow pages, under 'Urologists'. Or is that 'Penologists'?"

"You don't seem to understand, Mr. Iggy. I am in contact with a certain, er, Oracle. Or should I say, I used to be in contact with him. I would ask him to ask me questions. Then after I asked him to ask me the question, he would answer with a question in answer to the question I had asked asking for the question. This question in the answer I would then have to answer, and then answer the Oracle with the answer to the question he had asked me in answer to the question I had asked him asking for the question..."

"Wait a minute, I'm asking the questions here."

"No, it's the Oracle. Or at least it should be, but it isn't. You see, the question I have is that when I ask for a question whose answer is a question I answer..."

"Try that again, geek, and you'll have a gum-wad's-eye view of the linoleum."

"In any case, the Oracle does not reply. Mr. Iggy, I need you to find out why. I need the answer to the question of the missing question... *O*O*F*!"

I'll give the little guy one thing. He knew the one way to take a Florsheim to the solar plexus. With great pain.

"OK, Brainiac," I said, "let's get something straight. I'm not going to repeat myself, and I'm not going to say it again. I'M asking the questions around here! And if you don't like it, go see Dashiell Hammett!!!"

"Urgh... you're... (gasp) ...brilliant!"

I drew my '38 and swivelled around to see who had walked in. Then I realized that he was still talking to me.

"Me? -er- so you figured it out, finally?"

"Yes, Mr. Iggy! (*cough*) You're asking the... questions around here! So you are in p-p-posession of the missing questions!"

I went to my filing cabinet, carefully stepping on the geek's hand on the way. From the center drawer I removed the file every detective worth his flat feet should have. It was labelled with a huge question mark.

"You got that from the Oracle!" the geek pronounced. "You stole it!"

"Yeah, I pinched the questions file. So what? You know how boring it is around here? Nothing to keep me occupied but slinky dames, booze, fabulous wealth, and mystery. I've gotta have a little fun you know. Here, take it. But be damn sure to leave it up for anonymous FTP."

"But how can I ever repay you?"

"Just keep out of my site. But there is one thing."

"Anything! Name it!"

"You owe the Oracle a brown fedora and a pack of unfiltered Luckies."

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

Mistah Orcul,

I'm'a tryin' ta git mah revenge on a dad burned old bastard used to be mah frend afore he done me wrong. What I wanna know is, should I just shoot him, or be sutl and crewl and just smash in his haid with a mallot?

Thank ye.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

> env LANGUAGE = cornpone

Wall, Jed, it awl 'pend 'pon jes what that there rscal done to ya. If'n he a'stole yer horse, then yer gotta hang'im. If'n he done stole yer woman, then yer gotta shoot'im. If'n he done used up awl of yer computer account tahm, wahl then yer gotta get really mean, an' tear out his lungs a'through his nostrils.

If'n it's anythin' else, then yer best be is tuh tie him to a big ole brass bed, an tuh leave only one hand free, ya see? Then ya paint all the fingernails on that hand with rattlesnake poison, ya see? Then ya dump a whole box a fahr ants atop'n the bed, and sit aroun' an' wait for 'im to start a'scratchin'! Heee-ya, that'll be fun!

You owe the Oracle a copy of Cassel's English-Texan/Texan-English Dictionary.

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

As you so rightfully predicted, here's the haiku:

Mighty Oracle, tell me how to defrost my refrigerator.

We aim to please...

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

The Oracle is omniscient. That doesn't mean, unfortunately, that it is infallible. Sometimes, the Oracle is just STUUUUUPID. This makes 5,643 **DIFFERENT** haiku asking how to defrost a refrigerator. The Oracle has to supply a different, creative answer to each one. And this one is the least inspired of them all. Haiku are supposed to have layers of meaning and deep, natural symbolism. Feh. Having answered the first 5,642 with haiku about how to defrost the refrigerator, the Oracle has decided to branch off to something different.

A graduate student of Science
With a malfunctioning major appliance
Could not read instructions
Or make simple deductions
And had lost all of his self-reliance.

His freezer was not self-defrosting
And the gathering icepack was costing
Him the work of three years:
Frozen pizzas and beers.
To go shopping was MUCH too exhausting.

He foresaw his demise from starvation,
Then he suddenly found inspiration:
"The Oracle knows
How to banish ice floes!
I shall tell it the whole situation!"

"O Oracle!" the grad student said
"Can you save me from what I most dread?"
Help me conquer the frost!
I care naught for the cost!!"
The answer came back, and it read:

"There's an answer; the Oracle knows it:
Crawl into your icebox and close it.
The heat your producin'
Will make the ice loosen.
If your genitals freeze - well, so goes it!"

The Oracle always replies
To the questions that come to Its eyes
But there's always a price
For Its Holy advice:
You owe It two large pizza pies.

With mushrooms and extra cheese.

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

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

You didn't listen to my advice and got too close to the black hole, didn't you? I told you, not even <carriage-return> can escape the deadly grip of the hole's gravity once you cross the event horizon. The answer to your question is: "No, you can't make it back in time for Twin Peaks. You're stuck in limbo for good."

You owe the Oracle a tachyon custard pie.

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