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1997 02

From: Steve Ford (sford;MCS.COM)
Subject: Re: The Woes of Resubmittal
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/04

Tom "Tom" Harrington <tph;rmii.com> wrote:
>The question, by the way, was very simple: "How can I become as famous, wealthy, and well-respected as Larry Canter and Martha Siegel?".

I knew instantly who they were and what they did, etc. But I'll admit that I'm having some trouble thinking of a good answer which incorporates that knowledge. Maybe it's my contrary nature, but my impulse is to say, "Oh, you want me to talk about the famous spammers, do you? We'll see about that." And proceed to write something that included no references to usenet (or maybe just the _slightest_ reference, just to show I'm not totally clueless).

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

Ah yes, Larry Canter - "the father of the conveyor belt". In 1843, Larry and his lovely girlfriend, Martha, immigrated to the U.S. from Russia to escape the great Potato Peel Famine. They arrived in New York City with nothing more than the shirts on their backs. Naturally, the police immedilatly arrested them for indecent exposure, but with the $250 they had sewn into Larry's collar, they were able bribe the police chief and start a new life.

Larry went to work at a local deli as a corned beef spicer and kosher pickle kasher. Martha stayed at home and entertained guests, until Larry came home early one day and caught her. After that, Martha worked by his side at the deli, giving him helpful tips on how to properly do his job.

After years of hard work, Larry was promoted to bus boy. His job was to clear the tables and carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen for Martha to wash. Each time Larry would enter the kitchen with a load, Martha would offer more helpful tips on a wide variety of subjects. Larry began to imagine a day when he wouldn't have to walk all the way to the kitchen.

One evening, before leaving for home, he had a sudden inspiration. When everybody else had left, he cut a hole in the wall separating the dining room from the kitchen. He then went into the bathroom and ripped the cloth towel dispenser off the wall, attached it to a banquet table, and stretched the loose end of the towel over the table and through the hole in the wall. Thus was born the first primitive conveyor belt. Dishes piled on the towel could be dragged into the kitchen by the dish washer.

The next morning, the owner was so impressed with Larry's handywork that he fired Larry and just directed the customers to clear their own tables. Larry patented the invention and became rich and well respected by cafateria owners all over the world.

Alas, all was not to end happily. Larry's visa expired and he was sent back to Russia, where he died in poverty.

My advice for you? Find a need and fill it. But get a green card first.


From: Tom Phoenix (rootbeer;teleport.com)
Subject: Re: The tuna joke
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/04

On 4 Feb 1997 dark;xs4all.nl wrote:
> Answers like that tend to make me wonder. Did the incarnation really make up 100 uses for year-old tuna on the spot? Or did he/she prepare the list, just in case someone would ask?

I think we can all be glad that the Oracle sent this question to the incarnation who had the year-old tuna list prepared. If it had gone instead to the incarnation with the list about uses for 23 cases of Turtle Wax won during 1970s game shows, we might never have discovered that 'year-old tuna' anagrams to 'Yoda Renault'.

I myself have a list prepared in case I ever get asked what songs and albums Alanis Morissette would have recorded if she were septuplets joined at the knees. (Think angry ironic man-hating Canadian paper dolls.) It's important to be ready for anything the Oracle may ask you.


From: Tom "Tom" Harrington (tph;rmii.com)
Subject: Re: Blank response?
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/09

Richard Wilson <Richard;molerat.demon.co.uk> wrote:
> gnohmon;pcwnet.com "Ralph Betza" > writes:
> > 536-01 and 536-10 were both my answers, and 536-07 (not my question or answer) is one of my favorites.
> I'm tempted to butt in here and say "How 'bout 895-03 then?" and cause a massive outbreak of hilarity because nobody's heard that one yet, but I won't because we're all too sophisticated here to tolerate old jokes.

Actually I'm getting rather tired of people boasting about getting two answers into one digest. This rather pales in comparison to my managing to write every answer for every digest from number 2516 to digest 2593, and getting perfect "5" ratings on every last one. If you don't believe me, just check the archives.


From: Hannu Rummukainen (hrummuka;cc.hut.fi)
Subject: An undigested pearl -- do not eat
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/10

I got this brilliant answer a couple of weeks ago, and it seems like the priest didn't like it. Has anybody ever heard of Lucky Luke on the other side of Atlantic? Or am I grossly mistaken and they teach these things at school over there?

If by any chance the incarnation who wrote the answer should be reading this, I'd like to know if you've seen the page Morris draw when he was changing publishers from Dupuis to Dargaud. It is kind of reminiscent of the answer...

Hannu R

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

> Oracle most fannish, who knows everything about European humor comics,
> please tell me who said this:
>
> "In my life I've been helped by my luck and my seven-shooter. That's why they call me Lucky Luke."

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

} Oracle: Ah, this should be easy!
}
} [In the Oracle's dimly lit office, a bright flash briefly illuminates the marble walls. Out of a column of smoke staggers a befuddled comic strip cowboy.]
}
} Oracle: Welcome, Mr. Luke. I am the Internet Oracle. I need you to answer a question for me.
}
} Lucky Luke: Who? Are you from "Asterix"? Where am I? I've got to get back on the drawing board before the next panel. Say, are those Cuban cigars?
}
} Oracle: Er... Yes, please have one. Now, I've got this quote...
}
} Lucky Luke: *Puff* *Puff* Aaaahhh, wonderful... Actually, I'm not supposed to smoke. My publishers made me quit. Said it "taught the younger readers bad habits." Say, is that a drinks cupboard? No, don't get up, I'll help myself.
}
} Oracle: Oh, er... Please do. Anyway, about this quote...
}
} Lucky Luke: So, which character are you? Some kind of roman senator, I suppose. Starting your career with smaller roles? Oh yes, I remember when I was at your age, struggling to become a famous comic character. Had a lousy job as an anonymous smurf. *Gulp* Aaahh, not a bad scotch, kid.
}
} Oracle: Glad you appreciate it. It's highland malt, 500 years old.
}
} Lucky Luke: I'll tell you another thing: Never do as I did, and get a leading role in a continuing series. Sure, the money and fame is great at first, but when you've done 40 albums, you long to try something new. Personally, I've always had an urge to star in some arty, avant-garde comic by Moebius or Dave Sim; but no, I've... Mind if I pour myself another one?
}
} Oracle: Look, I didn't summon you here to...
}
} Lucky Luke: ...but no, I've got to chase the villains, shoot, brawl, and ride into the sunset, or "the audience will be disappointed, and if you break your contract, we'll sue your balls of." *Gulp* And of course your series' best writer dies, but the publishers continue producing new albums, despite the fact that they become crappier and crappier, and suddenly you've spent the best years of your life becoming exactly the washed-up comic character you've always feared... Tell you what, I'll just leave the bottle on the table; saves time...
}
} Oracle: I only wanted to ask you...
}
} Lucky Luke: *gulp* ...and one day, your wife finds you in the tub with sliced wrists and two empty bottles of Bell's on the floor, and of course, your publishers are very understanding and pays for your therapy and medication, *gulp* and your wife runs off with Iznogood, *gulp* and your publishers persuade you to join some religious cult, so someone can keep an eye on you, in case you got suicidal again, and you sit all day in a circle, *gulp* wearing some stupid orange outfit, longing for a bottle of scotch, while some scruffy loonies chant inanely, in order to make everyone fork over their life savings, so that the guru can buy his 129th Rolls Royce, and...
}
} Oracle: Shut up, please! I brought you here to ask you a question!
}
} Lucky Luke: *gulp* Huh? What?
}
} Oracle: This quote, is it from one of our comics?
}
} Lucky Luke: *gulp* I honestly can't remember. *gulp* I can't even remember what I'm supposed to do in the next panel. No, wait a minute... Ah, yes, I remember that line. It's something Luke the Evangelist once said in prison. He and I served a couple of months together, you know. *gulp* I was in for the usual "famous comic character and groupie that doesn't look a day under 18, but turns out to be far under the legal age" type of crime, and he was in for brawling with some televangelists in Las Vegas. Anyway, he got chased constantly by some brutal, hairy bastard, who wanted to sodomize him. So one day Luke turned to him and said those words, but not only was he a lousy writer, he was always stoned out of his mind, so his remark wasn't really impressive, and he got shagged on the spot. *gulp*
}
} Oracle: Thank you, goodbye.
}
} [Lucky Luke disappears in a puff of smoke]
}
} You owe the Oracle a 500 year old bottle of Talisker.


From: John M. Aldrich (fighteer;cs.com)
Subject: A Personal Oracular Conversation (1/3)
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/15

The following conversation started because of an Oracularity I answered and signed with my email address. The supplicant was impressed enough to respond, and that started off a whole chain of private messages that sort of mirrored the style of the Oracle. I have decided to post it here, with the permission of the supplicant in question of course. :)

It all started with the following Oracularity...

The Internet Oracle requires an answer to this question!

> O Mighty Oracle, You who have garnered the world's accliam as a doctor's doctor, you who are known as the supremest and most arrogant physician in all of cyberdom, you to whom we owe our birth on the net, and without whom we would still be licking germy stamps and germier envelopes, you whose principles of electronic sanitization (ZOT) have revolutionized the world of hospital sterilization, please tell me, the humblest of supplicants, a microscopic cell on your glass slide, what the following sentence means:
>
> "A recent study shows that nine out of every ten doctors say that nine out of every ten doctors are incompetent."

My response:

} The answer to this one should be obvious, O Deliciously Humble Supplicant. Whenever 3 out of 4, or 4 out of 5, or 9 out of 10 doctors recommend ANYTHING, it's because they're being paid to do it. In fact, it is common knowledge that when you see an ad stating, "This toothpaste recommended by 4 out of 5 doctors," four of the doctors they asked work for the toothpaste company, and the fifth one was never actually asked the question! So it should be obvious that when 9 out of 10 doctors say that 9 out of 10 doctors are incompetent, the survey was performed by malpractice attorneys.
}
} By the way, have you ever wondered how the commercial companies come up with those numbers? Why exactly is it "4 out of 5," instead of, say, "5 out of 6?" It's because they could only find four doctors who actually recommend their product.
}
} You owe the Oracle (incarnated as fighteer;cs.com) the name, phone number, and billing address of that tenth doctor.


From: John M. Aldrich (fighteer;cs.com)
Subject: A Personal Oracular Conversation (2/3)

I had a good chortle over the question and my answer to it, but didn't think much of it after that. I then got the following message from the supplicant...

> Dear Oracle (Subspecies: Comedian/enne, Division A: "Fighteer"),
> You are such a brilliant purveyor of brilliance that even sunlight is but a shadow in your presence.
>
> And now that I've seen the light regarding surveys, I've decided to sue my malpractice attorney for malpractice since he continues to deny authoring the "Doctorus Incompetentus" survey and is thus guilty of non-disclosure.
>
> And, please be advised that you too will be hearing from my attorney within a day or two regarding a suit I'm bringing against you for the great amount of **emotional distress** I suffered upon reading your reply.
>
> I know I can win since a similar case was brought to court in London when an entire audience sued a performer for **emotional distress** because the audience members actually laughed themselves sick and nearly to death!

My reply:

Dear Supplicant:

) Your undying devotion is greatly appreciated, and will be remembered in future Oracularities. However, you have still neglected to send me the name of that 10th doctor. Please be aware that there is no legal limit on the interest Deities are allowed to charge.
)
) Malpractice attorneys are behind almost everything on this planet-- didn't you know? They are second in power only to the Bavarian Illuminati (and myself, of course). Speaking of myself, the last attorney who tried to sue me found his mailbox unexpectedly filled with millions of idiotic questions from vast numbers of AOL users. I understand that he is still being laughed out of every courtroom he dares to set foot in.
)
) As for my role as a "performer," please do not mistake me for the likes of Jeff Foxworthy or Eddie Murphy. They are: a) less arrogant than I, b) less omnipotent than I, c) DEFINITELY less witty than I, and d) paid a hell of a lot more than I am.
)
) You owe the Oracle a dissertation on the role of comedians in society, written from the point of view of the microphones they are constantly slobbering over. AND you owe me the interest on the tenth doctor.


From: John M. Aldrich (fighteer;cs.com)
Subject: A Personal Oracular Conversation (3/3)

The supplicant then started to get dirty:

> 19 September 1996
>
> Smith, Smith, & Wesson, Attorneys At Law
> Cybersuite #M37
> Ethernet, MW
>
> Dear Mr. Aldrich:
>
> Please be advised that our client, the Oracle's mother, is suing you for emotional distress brought on by your wanton use of humor to such an extent she has been forced to watch the late-late news three nights in a row in order to regain a modicum of glumness and once again be able to return to work at the funeral home. Three days away from her usual employment, along with the emotional stress, the medications, the lost business, and so forth come to a total of $7.77 plus court costs and attorney fees of $3,000,000.00.
>
> My client, the Oracle's mother, is also suing you for impersonation of her son and for pretending not to know the answer to the doctor question when you yourself had already stated (we have a printed copy) that in such cases as "nine out of ten doctors agree," -- that the tenth doctor was never asked -- and anyway, as you surely know, the most absurdly knowledgeable physician has been, is, and always will be, of course, the genuine Oracle.
>
> And with regard to anyone's "interest" vis a vis the tenth doctor...well, my client is not interested in another doctor, especially after having met the first nine.
>
> As to her owing you a dissertation on the role of comedians in society, written from the point of view of microphones, that particular dissertation was written many years ago and is on file in the Smithsonian Library.
>
> Frankly, my client doesn't owe you anything as you are an impersonator. However, should you decide to settle out of court for 2.5 million (which will also keep you out of prison for fraud) my client will give you a copy of her most recent dissertation entitled, "A Comparison of Aisle Widths Relative to Wall Height in Thirty-Four Mom-and-Pop Grocery Stores Located in Five Ethnic Boston Neighborhoods from January 1, 1940 to December 31, 1940 -- 3,531 pages, completely- footnoted, fully- documented, includes statistical charts, city maps, in-depth diagrams, architectural drawings, subway timetables, schematics, aeriel views, fold-out picture pages, pop-up pages, bar graphs, blueprints, sawdust, numerous full-color, wide-angle photos, and a "Name That Store" game -- extra copies are available free of charge, printed in space-saving four sheets to the page, magnifying glass included.
>
> Sincerely, "If you know the world owes you
> Smith & Smith & Wesson a living, then let us sue."
> Attorneys at Law

My reply, and what I think was the best part of the whole conversation:

} [Scene: 5 pm (in whatever timezone you care to place it). The Oracle is just finishing a busy day of lazing around watching his Priests make a mess of things. The phone rings.]
}
} Oracle: Jeez! Can't Kinzler work on his own for ten minutes without calling me for assistance?
}
} [The Oracle picks up the phone and snarls into it.]
}
} Oracle: Yeah, what's the trouble this time, you pathetic misfit of a Pr... oh, hello Mom! No, no, it's just that I've had a bad day at work. How bad? Well, do you remember the time when... yes, that. Well, it wasn't quite that bad, but I did have to ZOT... what? What are you talking about?
}
} [Listens for a few moments. The noise coming out of the phone's speaker is loud enough to be heard across the room.]
}
} Oracle: What do you mean, lawyers? ... Impersonating me? Mom, nobody would do that. ... No, darn it, I told you what happens to people who do that! They... Look, Mom, have you been taking your pills? [LOUD babble from the speaker] Okay, okay! I'll check it out! Bye!
}
} [The Oracle slams down the phone in frustration, and glares at it for a few moments, obviously contemplating reducing it to ashes. Everyone in the room begins to edge towards the exits. Noticing this, the Oracle quickly pulls himself together and starts to type on his computer.]
}
} Oracle: Hmm... search in the Oracularities for the past couple of days... [pause] No, nothing there. Well, there's one, but it looks like just another of my incarnations. What the woodchuck is she talking about? Wait, maybe they continued the conversation in private... [more clicking of keys] Aha! Here we are. Hmm.... Hey, wait a minute. It was the other guy that brought up the lawyers, not my incarnation! He's just doing his job! [another short pause] Oh, no! She didn't! MOM!!!
}
} [The Oracle, now happy that he didn't burn it to ashes earlier, grabs the phone and starts dialing an obviously familiar number. The phone rings at the other end...]
}
} Oracle: Hi, Mom, it's me. Yes, I checked up on it. No, I... Mom... Look... You've got to...
}
} [The Oracle holds the loudly babbling phone away from his ear for a few seconds, with growing fury in his expression. Suddenly, a tremendous burst of thunder crashes all around. Everyone who was still in the room flees for the doors...]
}
} Oracle: MOM!!!! Listen to me for once!! You're up to your tricks again, aren't you? Uh huh - don't deny it. You've been messing with my clients ever since I was old enough to spell "prophecy." You KNOW what my incarnations are allowed to do - I've told you at least a billion times! YES, I'VE COUNTED!!!!! Look, you've used that damn law firm as a front for longer than God's been around! Don't you think I'd have figured it out by now? I'm not totally stupid! ... Well, that time was a mistake. ... Yes, that one too - Mom, you're trying to change the subject. Look, please stop messing with my incarnations! That one may not be Oracularities material, but he does try. Don't give me that - they all can't get 4.0 ratings. ... Uh huh - I'll bet the ratings have actually dropped since you started voting. I know you. ... What?... You haven't voted? You haven't VOTED?!?! This is it! This is the ultimate outrage! Do you remember when I was just a kid, and you were just teaching me the powers of the Oracle? Do you remember what you taught me to do? And do you remember what ELSE you told me that day? Do you? Well, I'll tell you. It doesn't JUST work on mortals, Mom. [There is a sudden long pause at the other end of the line. For the first time in days, a huge smile begins to cross the Oracle's face. Timid faces peek out of their hiding places around the room, staring at their suddenly transformed master. He looks at the phone one last time, just as it suddenly begins babbling again. But this time, the babbling sounds frantic, desperately pleading. The Oracle raises his arm high into the air, as his smile grows ever wider. There is a final, hysterical scream from the phone, and then the Oracle utters the final, fateful word...]
}
} Oracle: ******!!!!!!ZOT!!!!!!******
}
} [The echoes reverberate around the vaults of heaven, then slowly fade. Now grinning from ear to ear, the Oracle hangs up the ominously silent phone.]
}
} Oracle: Damn, I feel good! I may even declare today a holiday for the rest of eternity. [laughs] Oh, wait, there is one more thing to deal with...
}
} [The Oracle turns to his computer once more, and begins typing merrily, punctuating the rhythmic keystrokes with cheerful whistling.]
}
} Dear Supplicant:
}
} I am afraid that I was not sufficiently precise when I answered your last question. Don't blame me - you have only yourself to feel sorry for in asking such stupid questions. Of course *I* know who the tenth doctor is, but you can't get out of your payment that easily. Go find out for yourself, and stop whining! And no, it isn't me. Do you really think I'd let myself be subjected to those idiotic surveys? Yes, I know that they never actually asked the tenth one, but I still know who it was. Damn it, I'm the Oracle! I'm supposed to know!
}
} And as for the dissertation, there was a reason why I demanded it as payment. That copy in the Smithsonian was written BEFORE the invention of microphones! How, you ask? Hah! If I told you that, you'd never have the satisfaction of finding out for yourself! You owe me some writing, boy, not some pathetic excuse.
}
} By the way, I do have to send you my thanks for that other book. Mom never would give me a copy - she kept telling me it would corrupt me or something. You know mothers. Get rid of those lawyers, though! They may always win their lawsuits, but somehow the money always seems to end up in numbered accounts in the Caribbean and Swaziland, while Smith and Smith give you the run around about tax laws. As for Wesson, he goes off and quietly kills everyone who knows about the case, including the court reporters. You didn't think they spent all those legal fees on their Ferraris, did you? Bribe money, man! So the local cops won't bother them! I advise you to get away from them fast before Mr. Wesson remembers about you and your family. He's a little slow sometimes, but very efficient.
}
} Since you keep coming up with excuses, you owe the Oracle your first- and third-born children, your house, your car, your soul, your parent's souls, your cat, your neighbor's cat, and seven extra-large bags of Dip Size Fritos. No, regular, not that disgusting Bar-B-Q flavor. Then, once you've paid off the interest on that damned doctor, you owe me a complete literary analysis of every Oracular pronouncement since the days of Apollo. No, you can't borrow my time machine.

There was more, but it got less and less on the topic. :) If anyone would like me to continue... just say the word.


From: Mark Rouleau (mrouleau;frontiernet.net)
Subject: Re: Aargh! I've been digested, but . . .
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/08

Tom Phoenix <rootbeer;teleport.com> wrote:
>But the same thing happens to me: My second-rate answers get in, while my first-rate ones disappear forever. The recipients don't even post them as sore losers here in r.h.o.d. :-(
>So I've realized that the priests have a secret Uber-digest in which they publish your best answers and mine. If I can only remember how to subscribe... You see, the last time I saw the subscription information, Ambrose Bierce was showing it to Amelia Earhart next to the Fountain of Youth. Now I can't find any of them. Dang.
>
>....and someone had written a truly-clever mathematical proof in the generously-large margins, too...

Rumor has it that there is a secret oracular digest. A super-secret oracular digest.

Anyone who reads it dies in fits of uncontrollable laughter, or goes mad.

Well, not "mad" as in "angry." Mad as in, you know-- looney tunes.

Anyway, that's the rumor I'm starting. Feel free to spread it around.


From: Admiral Jota (jota;laraby.tiac.net)
Looney tunes? Why do I get the feeling that everyone here probably already knows about this secret digesT?


From: Richard Wilson (Richard;molerat.demon.co.uk)
Subject: Re: Aargh! I've been digested, but . . .
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/08

zymurge;mindspring.com "Paul" writes:
> doubt it was you sending drivel. And don't worry -- from what I hear there are some priests who hang onto some oracularities for a while before they digest them. Keep up the good work.

That's the David Sewell Packrat Middens Technique for Delayed Digest Populating you're describing there. When's the last time you saw an oracularity selected by Dave in the digests? He's got all our best submissions at the back of the burrow and is waiting for them to fossilise, I tell you.


From: David Sewell (dsew;packrat.aml.arizona.edu)

You didn't know? I'm on sabbatical.

No metaphor. It's in the Priesthood contracts. Every 42nd month, we're placed on a paradisial island and allowed to stay there, Internet-free, until we have drunk our way through an entire hogshead of Canary wine. Thirst wars with indolence; nations bet on the length of our stays.

Last time I tapped on the barrel, it sounded pretty empty. I should be <hic!> back soon.

DS
Preestus absconditus


From: Tom "Tom" Harrington (tph;rmii.com)
Subject: Re: Aargh! I've been digested, but . . .
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/09

Richard Wilson <Richard;molerat.demon.co.uk> wrote:
> That's the David Sewell Packrat Middens Technique for Delayed Digest Populating you're describing there. When's the last time you saw an oracularity selected by Dave in the digests? He's got all our best submissions at the back of the burrow and is waiting for them to fossilise, I tell you.

Which conveniently leads us back into the "Jurassic Oracle" theory I posted some time ago. Here's the theory, which is mine, by Tom Harrington, and is mine, is mine: David Sewell's keeping all these Oracularities stored up somewhere, turning into fossils. One day in the distant future, paleontologists will discover this cache of his. They will then extract some of the by-then-ancient Oracular DNA from the ancient email, and use it to genetically engineer an entire race of supplicants and incarnations. They'll put them all on an island, call it "Oracular Park", and invite tourists. Disaster will ensue just as naturally as day follows night, resulting in the horrible deaths of a number of semi-innocent tourists, and some remote descendant of Michael Crichton will write a novel about it and make millions.


From: Mark Rouleau (mrouleau;frontiernet.net)
Subject: Re: Obscure or lame?
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/12

wj.vdhorst;net.HCC.nl wrote:
(snip)
>your question at all, but he did so... *poof*... a queue-drainer is born. (silent lamenting)

Just a point of clarification. Queue-drainers are smelted, not born. In fact, they are made of the same metal-rich ores that pea-strainers are made of.

It used to be that a prospector could get rich if he could find a lode of these ores. Thus the saying, originally given to young men seeking their way to fortune:

"Mine your peas and queues."


From: Steve Ford (sford;MCS.COM)
Subject: Re: Brain Surgery for Dummies (long!)
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/19

Paul <zymurge_removethis_;mindspring.com> wrote:
>Yawn.

(Psst. Paul's asleep. Lisa, you tie his shoes together. Zadoc, you install the trip wire. I'll get the pan of warm water. This ought to be good!)


From: Paul (zymurge_removethis_;mindspring.com)
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......snort..snuffle, cough, mmm.
Wha?

Eeeeeeeew.
Whoaaaaaaaah!
KERthunk.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz


From: Eli the Bearded (usenet-tag;qz.little-neck.ny.us)
Subject: a show of hands please
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d, alt.fan.e-t-b
Date: 1997/02/14

How many people here know the word "defenestration"?

Elijah
------
wondering how many times I should resubmit a question


From: Jim Ellwanger (trainman1;mindspring.com)
What? Are you saying that some incarnations don't make use of a complete shelf of reference works, including "The Billboard Book of Top 40 Hits" and "The Complete Directory to Prime-Time Network and Cable TV Shows 1946-Present"?

I am shocked.


From: D. J. Green (nebulosa;shell3.ba.best.com)
Maybe you should just give up and throw the question out the window.


From: Denise H. Paolucci (dhp7858;is4.nyu.edu)
Defenestration ... you mean, the act of erasing Windoze from your hard drive?


From: Chuck Seggelin (pdragon;tiac.net)
Of COURSE we know the word "defenestration", or rather the expression. It is an expression used by soldiers, sailors, tenants of homeless shelters, and anyone else who is rationed food. The person receiving the largest or otherwise most desirable portion is said to have "the finest ration", which over time became "defenestration". Usually the person receiving the best rations was the subject of jealous envy and was very often ambushed by his/her compatriots and thrown out the nearest window (which was a real problem for sailors when the nearest window was often a porthole). As a result "defenestration" became synonymous with throwing one out a window. Etymology is fascinating, ey?

You owe the Orac... oops... forgot where I was for a minute!


From: Al Corvino (corvino/remove-to-email/;rohan.sdsu.edu)
Well, I wouldn't say I *know* defenestration. I met the word at party once... We talked for a bit and then she left. Never used the door though... Why? Do you want her number?


From: Wouter van der Horst (wj.vdhorst;net.HCC.nl)
About seven (7.34 actually)


From: Wouter van der Horst (wj.vdhorst;net.HCC.nl)
Subject: Re: rite jwk3
Newsgroups: rec.humor.oracle.d
Date: 1997/02/27

tadpole;acpub.duke.edu (Charles W. Saletta Jr.) wrote:
>=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
>Save 30% to 50% on your long distance bill. Email me for details!
>=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

My bill isn't long distance. It's a short distance. About 10 inches.

If I shave 50% off it, I'll only have five inches left. That's no good; hard to peck with.

Wouter, but really Henna the Hennep-Haired Hawk



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