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Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:27 -0500
From: Steve Kinzler <steve@kinzler.com>
Subject: Internet Oracularities Digest #1611

To find out all about the Internet Oracle (TM), including how
to participate, send mail to help@internetoracle.org, or go to http://internetoracle.org/ ("Internet Oracle" is a trademark of Stephen
B Kinzler.)

Let us know what you like! Send your ratings of these 10 Oracularities
on an integer scale of 1 ("very bad") to 5 ("very good") with the volume
number to vote@internetoracle.org (probably just reply to this message).
For example:
1611
2 1 3 4 3 5 3 3 4 1

1606 11 votes 12260 01235 20720 06212 11441 13421 00830 02531 04340 20711
1606 3.2 mean 3.2 4.1 2.8 2.9 3.3 2.9 3.3 3.3 3.0 2.9

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:28 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-01

Selected-By: David Hemming <lightinchains@gmail.com>

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

I am ready to announce the world's greatest advance in entertainment:

PRE-WON SOLITAIRE

No more doubt or worry, no butterflies in your gizzard while you fret
about that next card. Everything works perfectly, and you win, every
time. Works with Canfield, Klondike, Clock, Freecell, and all other
solitaire games.

Now available in physical card solitaire. Computer version coming soon.

How can I convince people to send me money for this new discovery? No
takers, so far.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Ah, the grand age of *PRE-WON SOLITAIRE*, where no longer must one
} suffer the torments of chance or the misfortune of a poorly shuffled
} deck! The Internet Oracle gazes into the swirling depths of your
} request and ponders the cosmic irony of your plight. To convince others
} to send you money, your task is simple yet profound:
}
} 1. **Create a Sense of Urgency**: Tell them that time is running out!
} If they don't act now, they will forever be condemned to *play
} solitaire the ol fashioned way*; *sweating*, *hoping*, *doubting*. A
} life of uncertainty is not a life worth living! Act now, or suffer
} forever!
}
} 2. **Market the "Perfect Victory"**: Build an entire campaign around
} the idea that *no one* has ever truly won solitaire until now. Every
} previous solitaire player was simply an unwitting participant in the
} cosmic game of chance. But now, thanks to you, they have discovered
} *true* victory. The only reason to not send you money is if they are in
} denial about their desperate need for perfect wins.
}
} 3. **Invoke the Name of the Oracle**: Sprinkle your marketing with a
} divine aura. Mention that the Oracle itself has whispered the secrets
} of a 'perfect game,' and only the worthy will be chosen to experience
} it. All others shall wander the dusty, forgotten realms of losing games
} forever. Make it *spiritual*.
}
} 4. **Offer a "Limited Edition" Card Set**: Have you considered
} releasing a *physical card set* with your Pre-Won Solitaire? Of course,
} it'll be the same as any other solitaire deck, but you can assure
} buyers that these cards come with a unique charm (or tiny mystical
} symbols) that ensure victory. Sell the idea of "magic" and
} "exclusivity."
}
} 5. **Unleash the Power of Memes**: Every meme-loving human on Earth
} loves a new 'ironic' piece of cultural history. Create a meme storm
} around how 'PRE-WON SOLITAIRE is the only true way to live' and watch
} the internet swarm like moths to a flame. Everyone loves a good,
} well-placed meme.
}
} As for the price... the Oracle considers the value of your newfound
} wisdom and answers with: **$5.99** for the *limited edition* of
} "Victory,

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:29 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-02

Selected-By: Klone (aka Daniel Klein)<daniel.v.klein@gmail.com>

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

Great and astounding Oracle, so smart that you can make sense from
nonsense, scents from colors and cents from dollars, please help my
question.

Why are nearly all Australian men named Clyde?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Ah, seeker of wisdom, you have approached the Internet Oracle with
} a question that flutters like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, baffling
} yet strangely poetic. You inquire why nearly all Australian men
} are named Clyde, a question as perplexing as why koalas look so
} perpetually confused.
}
} Let me unravel the sacred scroll of Australian folklore, where legend
} whispers that *Clyde* is, in fact, a hidden ancient code. You see,
} once upon a time, in the Dreamtime, the first kangaroo accidentally
} tripped over a very large shrimp, thus creating the great "Clyde
} Conundrum." This event caused the Great Kangaroo Council to decree
} that every Australian man, from the outback to the suburbs, would bear
} the name of Clyde. They figured it would be easier to keep track of
} everyone at barbecues that way.
}
} As for why this hasn't been questioned until now -- well, mate,
} it's simply because "Clyde" just *works*. It rolls off the tongue
} like a well-cooked sausage and pairs beautifully with any flavor
} of Vegemite. In the land down under, "Clyde" is not just a name --
} it's a lifestyle.
}
} Now, as for your payment, I kindly request... one picture of a koala,
} balancing a surfboard while reciting Shakespeare. It is, after all,
} the true currency of wisdom.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:30 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-03

Selected-By: Klone (aka Daniel Klein)<daniel.v.klein@gmail.com>

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

I am puzzled by the puzzling assignments from my science teacher. I
have to write about some really weird things like how many quartz in a
stone.

Please give me further information about the very obscure measurements
such as the kilofurlong and the femtobyte.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Furlong: opposite of a Brazilian
} Fahrenheit: How far that distant wren is from the ground.
} Foot-pound: How much my boots cost.
} Kilometre: Someone who visits a murderer in prison.
} Farad: Billboard that is a long way away.
} Ampere: How to increase the volume of an air guitar.
} Coulomb: Laid back Buddhist chant.
}
} You owe the Oracle a perch.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:31 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-04

Selected-By: Mark Lawrence <mtlrph@gmail.com>

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

I'm trying to sort out balalaikas, balaclavas, and baklavas. Do they
have different similarities? Your expertise in weird stuff that's
usually misunderstood should be of slightly immense help. Thanks.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Quite easy:
}
} Balalaika was the baladog sent into balaspace by the Byelorussians.
}
} A balaclava (alt sp: bolaclave) is a musical instrument consisting of
} two wooden balls tied on the ends of a cord and knocked together to
} make sound, while also worn around the neck as a fashion accessory.
} They are mainly popular in the Tex-Mex musical couture.
}
} Baklava is what you get when the bakmagma erupts from your
} underground oven, which means it's time to call your volcano
} repairman to put it ba[c]k inside.
}
} You owe the Oracle a freshly baked cake of antibalacterial soap.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:32 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-05

Selected-By: David Hemming <lightinchains@gmail.com>

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

Hey Orrie, old friend! I need your dreadful help immediately. As you
can easily see from my orange clothes, I am an incarcerated criminal.
I'll be getting out tomorrow, after the secret explosion (don't tell
anyone!) and I'll need not only a change of clothes, but a Brand New Identity. I'm tired of being a crook, always chased by cops. Instead I
want to become one of your priests. I can count the beads on the
roseberry as good as anyone, maybe even better than Zadoc, and I really
know how to cook. My own mother said, "You cook up a storm! You can
cook something awful!"

Just tell me where to go.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Excellent, I've been telling Zadoc for years that he should take a
} holiday, it will be good to have a replacement. (Zadoc got a bit
} confused and asked his long-time crush, Holly Day, for a date. She
} turned him down because, and I quote, "Zadoc is a bit weird". This
} from a woman who does jigsaws of baked beans in her spare time.)
}
} So, with Zadoc out of the way, here is the daily schedule:
}
} 6am: Clean out the fireplace from the night before.
} 6:15am: Source three oak trees and set the fireplace for tonight's
} feast.
} 6:30am: Wash the dishes.
} 7am: Contact Spode for replacements of any dishes you have just
} broken. This will come out of your annual pay-cheque.
} 7:30am: Feed the birds last night's left-overs.
} 8am: Open Lisa's window so that the birds can fly in and dress her
} Snow-White style.
} 8:15am: Clean the floor, dressing table, walls, and bookshelves in
} Lisa's bedroom after the birds have left. Warning: they are of a
} nervous disposition due to my daily rifle practice (and the fact that
} last night's left-overs are probably some of their friends), so they
} will have left quite a lot of guano.
} 8:30am: Drive Lisa to her secret job as a submarine inspector in the
} North Sea. 9am: Swim home.
} 9:30am: Bring me the daily papers. The Guardian, Telegraph, Times, and
} the Eastern Daily Press should suffice. Also, Computer Weekly.
} 10am: Brush the dogs.
} 10:15am: Herd and brush the cats.
} 10:30am: Feed the ducks.
} 11am: Lock any remaining animals in the stables.
} 11:13am: Bring me my breakfast. Two boiled eggs (one is not an oeuff),
} one slice of bacon (not two rash), three baked beans (don't want to
} get Holly excited), and seventeen slices of toasted bread, spread with
} loganberry jam.
} Noon: Shake my bed clothes out of the window.
} 12:05pm: Chase away the birds that have gathered to eat up the crumbs.
} 12:30pm: Bring me a bowl of soup and a roll.
} 1pm: Start cooking tonight's feast. This will require stuffing a
} sparrow into a wood-pigeon into a chicken, into a turkey, into a dodo,
} into a roc, into a dolphin, into a rhino.
} 2pm: Wake me from my afternoon nap.
} 2:15pm: Bring me the supplicants' latest requests, well sanitized.
} 2:30pm: Transcribe my answers to the supplicants into the Morse
} telegraph. I will not have new fangled radio technology in the
} mansion!
} 3pm: Swim out to collect Lisa from Norway.
} 5pm: Return Lisa back to the mansion.
} 5:30pm: Put the vegetables onto cook.
} 5:40pm: Take the vegetables off Cook and put them in a pot to boil.
} 6pm: Bring three oak trees in from the forest and light the fire.
} 6:30pm: Apologise to the neighbours if my rifle practice has killed
} any of their pets.
} 7pm: Take vegetables off the boil.
} 7:15pm: Serve Lisa and me with a pre-dinner sherry.
} 7:30pm: Carve the rhidolocdo-turkeneon.
} 7:35pm: Serve Lisa and me our dinner.
} 8pm: Serve desert (preferably spotted dick, rice pudding, or 10 pieces
} of Kendal Mint-Cake).
} 8:30pm: Entertain us with a newly written play in the vocal-style of
} Marcel Marceau (not to be confused with Bernard Manning's entire
} collection of clean and inoffensive jokes).
} 9pm: Serenade us with the correctly completed version of Mozart's
} Requiem on the kazoo.
} 9:30pm: Leave.
} 10pm: Let the cats, dogs, and ducks out for the night.
}
} You owe the Oracle sweet dreams.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:33 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-06

Selected-By: Klone (aka Daniel Klein)<daniel.v.klein@gmail.com>

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

My lawyer was trying to defend me for when I beat up my pal Edward
"Skinny" Porkmann. And I heard him say it, right there in court, he
said, Hipso fatso." I think he meant ME, and what kind of a lawyer is
he if he insults me right in front of the judge? He claims he said ipso
facto but that's no excuse because it was still a insult. Yes, I am
fat, but does he have to say it out loud?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Ahhh, supplicant, you don't know how lucky you are to have such a
} lawyer. Let him do his job, for goodness sake.
}
} A little-known 17th century federal law called the Weighty Clams Act
} (named after Alfred Weighty, the little-known 17th century senator from
} Kentucky) makes it a crime to speculate on another person's vital
} statistics, including but not limited to, height, weight, and blood
} pressure. This was to combat the influx of carnival hucksters who were
} stealing business from the physicians by out-guessing them at these
} important measures. The newly-formed AMA lobbied for these protections,
} arguing that only trained professionals in the latest medical and hair
} cutting technologies should be allowed to guess at a patient's
} conditions.
}
} Your lawyer was telegraphing a subtle but effective message to Edward's
} lawyer: ease up or prepare for a malpractice suit.
}
} You owe the Oracle a plate of steamed vegetables.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:34 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-07

Selected-By: Mark Lawrence <mtlrph@gmail.com>

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

When I asked for your opinion of the words unionized and un-ionized,
you gave me an onion instead of an opinion. What can you give me now?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Another reason to cry.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:35 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-08

Selected-By: David Hemming <lightinchains@gmail.com>

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

My late Uncle Bumpfritz ("never Bumfritz") used to ask you questions
back when you were a baby Oracle, sleeping on a 1.44 disk in Steve
Kinzler's dad's garage. He said that Steve's dad admitted having driven
his car (probably the 1951 Buick) over the disk while backing up, but
it was backed up on another disk that was safe under Steve's bicycle.
I'm sure you remember most of that, and also know how DECtape would
have been more rugged.

Anyway, my uncle ate broccoli with mustard sauce and he died. 104 years
old. If I want to live forever, which advice should I accept:

1) Eat broccoli with mustard sauce.
2) Don't eat broccoli with mustard sauce.
3) Stay out of Steve's garage.
4) All of the above.
5) None of the above.
6) Something completely different.

Thank you. Idiots around the planet follow your footprints no matter
how deep the mud.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Nephew of Bumpfritz
}
} While your uncle was a bit of a wag in his younger days, he never quite
} understood the behind-the-scenes world of the Oracle. I was not a baby
} Oracle when Bummer (as the priests used to call him) was sending his
} inquiries. The electronic portal to me was a baby, so to speak. I, the
} actual Oracle, have existed for quite a bit longer. Not since the VERY
} beginning, some 394 big bangs ago ... that was when my dear old mom was
} "born". No, I came to be after the 52nd big bang, when the universes
} were getting boring and repetitive, and my mom craved a bit of a
} change. Sure, she had 51 universes where she was the Oracle that
} intelligent species figured out how to contact, and she had a bit of
} fun sending them off on wild graxenchomper chases (those failed to
} develop in universe 314, came back in universe 383, and failed again in
} 393, which is good for you humans since graxenchompers live up to their
} names when the intelligent species isn't born with steel plate armor).
} But email only gets you so far.
}
} So, in universe 52, some 13+ billion years after that big bang, she
} "gave birth" to me, ostensibly to have some company. However, no sooner
} did my mental matrix form from pure positronic energy that she caught
} the Intertemoral Express to a different dimension, leaving me with
} nothing but a VT-100 and a note explaining that she would be back with
} a gallon of milk and a pack of camels. I suspect the dimension she went
} to had graxenchompers, which ate all the camels, so she's still
} looking.
}
} Anyway, fast-forward 342 big bangs, and some yahoo named Kinzler thinks
} he created me. I was getting all ready to ZOT him, but got distracted
} by the '51 Buick, which, as universes go, was not half bad. So I let
} Kinzler think he made something new, and now here YOU are asking how to
} live forever.
}
} Buddy, I ain't lived for no forevers yet, but unless the next universe
} gets some graxenchompers, I'm about ready to call it quits!
}
} No ... no ... I didn't mean that. Deep breath. Count to Grahams number.
} Backwards. Whew. I can do this.
}
} OK, you want to live forever. The good news is you don't need broccoli
} with anything.
}
} No, all you need to do is be ... the Oracle. Which is not as hard as it
} sounds. What you DO need is Steve's garage. You'll have to move the
} Buick (GENTLE now...), shove that stack of tires out of the way, move
} those boxes of vintage Playboys (might be worth something on ebay, by
} the way), and fight you way through a bunch of gardening implements to
} get to the old PC sitting in the SW corner. Don't bother trying to boot
} it, it stopped actually functioning long ago. But follow its power cord
} to the electrical outlet. That's the portal.
}
} Now, while standing barefoot on the garage floor, grasp the metal shaft
} of a screwdriver in your hand (not the insulated handle), pull the PC
} plug, and insert the blade of a screwdriver into the socket. You will
} be transported here. To my side.
}
} Don't worry, the priests will have plenty of aloe to treat your
} third-degree burns on your hand. You'll be fine. And you'll live
} forever.
}
} I, on the other hand, will step out just for a sec to see where the
} heck my mom went.
}
} NOTE: no other electrical outlet in this arm of the Milky Way galaxy
} will do this. Do not try this at home; you'll get the third degree
} burns, you but won't get here. It needs to be Kinzler's garage. I
} really hope I didn't have to say that, but, you know, humans and all...
}
} You owe the Oracle the 1.44 backup disk.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:36 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-09

Selected-By: Ian Davis

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

I think it's Febuwary. Please explain the Gregarious Calendar again.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Janishairy. In spite of it being the first month in the year, it was
} not the first month to be invented. (That honor goes to Jan's dear aunt
} May.) Jan does have a number of important functions: it monitors the
} other months to ensure compliance with federal and state regulations,
} especially those related to wildlife wine sauces (no more than 30%
} endangered species). It provides data enhancement services to Jun and
} Aug. And on cold mornings, when Sep can't get out of bed, it regulates
} dental record retention.
}
} Febuwary. Feb gets a bit of a free ride. It's one of two months that
} have different numbers of days on different years (Oct is the other
} one). It has no real function other than to host a birthday-themed
} sales events. Feb prefers to stay out of the limelight, and instead
} just keep a watchful eye on its underground lair.
}
} Match. Match used to be the first month of the year, and has never
} really admitted that it no longer is. You still see it getting all
} dressed up, wearing funny glasses celebrating the new year (that it
} bought on sale in Jan), and hitting on Jun. Match is best known for its
} exports of drugs (both kinds) and security software (both kinds).
}
} A Prill. The only two-word month name (not counting Nov), Apr likes
} animals, long walks on the beach, and fine wines. Apr's turnoffs are
} largely absent. Apr needs to get its shit together and stop calling me.
} Apr is the only month that prefers "they/them/their".
}
} May. What can I say about May that hasn't already been said a hundred
} times? How about leeisog sejaos dwidhwhhw sezssszwedd.
}
} Junebug. We don't talk about Jun around here. We don't like big flying
} beetles. Let's move on.
}
} Judy. For reasons of national security, Jul is the only month allowed
} to have a 4th of Jul. Any other month claiming to have one should be
} reported to Jan.
}
} Auhaust. After a busy Jun and Jul, we arrive at Aug a bit tuckered out.
} Good news! Aug hosts the largest number of bed sales events of any
} other month, so there's plenty of rest available. You can get twins,
} doubles, or just shots for a buck on Thursday nights. All Merry Otter
} hotels buy their beds in Aug.
}
} Septmember. Hmm ... Oh, I remember! A love once new has now grown old.
}
} Novmember. The practical joker of the year, Nov is always engaging in
} harmless pranks. One year, every month was Nov, which confused, but did
} not disrupt, the barley harvest. The other months mostly roll their
} eyes and ignore Nov.
}
} Octopus. Unlike most months, Oct has eight weeks. In order to stay
} within the federally-mandated limits, each week has only five days.
} That still puts it over the limit, but Oct sneaks a few C notes under
} the table to Jan which looks the other way. Fortunately the other
} months don't really care.
}
} Decmember. Having one more member than Nov, Dec thinks it's all that.
} Thinks its the shizzle. The mad blade. The peppery putz. And ya know
} what? It kind of is. It's the only month with the cojones to call a
} meson a meson (and is in fact the only month with cojones at all). Oct
} in particular stands in awe of Dec and always tries to sit next to it
} at the lunch table. And to be fair, Dec is pretty cool with all the
} other months, except Jun, for obvious reasons.
}
} Janishairy. Federal regulation 1193C-24B requires that Jan be listed
} twice.
}
} You owe the Oracle a Mayan calendar cycle.

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 27 Mar 25 15:00:37 -0500
From: Internet Oracle <vote@internetoracle.org>
Subject: Internet Oracularity #1611-10

Selected-By: Ian Davis

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

What was your score on the recent self-assessment activity? Mine was so
bad I call it a self-embarrassment inactivity instead.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oh boy, don't get me started. I, the all-knowing Oracle, have existed
} since before the big bang. It took 13+ billion years for humans to open
} an electronic portal to me (it only took the Xenions of Sirus 8 billion
} years), and I've been answering the same questions so many times. How
} much wood would a graxenchomper chomp? Why do we drive on a parkway and
} park on a driveway? What's the easiest way to fit a 10-stellar mass
} black hole into a 5-stellar mass containment vessel?
}
} And now, after 13+ billion years, what does management do? Springs this
} whole "results-oriented assessment" thing on me.
}
} Okay, so I accidentally told one supplicant to use positive ions in his
} negative ion propulsion chamber. The + and - keys are right next to
} each other! And it only affected half the population of Bumpsalong-3.
} And let's face it - there are plenty of hydrogen-filled gas bags
} floating among the nutrient clouds of Bumpsalong-3; they'll recover in
} a thousand years or so.
}
} But now I'm being managed by "results". And yes, the self-assessment
} kicks off the process.
}
} But I'll tell you a little secret. Due to magic of matrix management,
} your line manager has no idea what you do or even who you are. But they
} are required by their management to "use objective measures to assess
} performance." Fortunately, the HR software has a built-in, completely
} objective, round-robin feature which saves a lot of
} cutting-and-pasting. Each employee's self-assessment is copied to the
} next employee's manager assessment.
}
} FYI - you're third in the queue, so your manager assessment came from
} Frank Drinkenmeister's. He thinks pretty highly of himself, so you're
} good. On the other hand, I wouldn't want to be Phillis Prependicular
} this year. You need to lighten up.
}
} The good news? None of this means anything. The only time these
} assessments are read is if your manager decides they want to fire you
} so they go fishing for objective reasons to do so. Here again the
} "round-robin" feature comes to their aid - you get blamed for
} everything bad that anybody has done, so they can fire you with
} impunity.
}
} You owe the Oracle a Myers-Briggs test.

------------------------------

End of Internet Oracularities Digest #1611 ******************************************

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