Oracularities are the distilled wisdom and sagacity of the Usenet
Oracle, as incarnated as its numerous e-mail participants (only you and
the Oracle know who you are). This collection has been compiled from
the regular Oracularities postings #101 through #125 to rec.humor.
These Oracularities were rated as the funniest by its readers (average
rating above 4 on a scale of 1 to 5).

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

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

What is the FREQUENCY?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

Sixty hertz if youre in America.
Fifty hertz if youre in England.

Vs over lambda if youre an acoustical engineer.
C over lambda if youre a physicist.
Every fifteen or twenty seconds with sets every ten minutes
if youre a surfer.

Once every two years if youre a governor.
Once every four years if youre the President.
Once every lifetime if youre Dan Quayle.

Four times a day if youre normal.
Four times a week if youre dehydrated.
Four times an hour if youve been drinking beer.
Four times a minute if youve been drinking Coors.

Once or twice a day if youre normal.
Once or twice a week if youre constipated.
Once or twice a minute if you drink the water in Mexico.

Six times a week if youre normal.
Zero if youre celibate. Hand jobs dont count.
Eight times a week if your SO lives down the street.
Twelve times a week if your SO lives with you.
Twenty times a week if your SO lives with you and your other SO
lives down the street.
Twenty-four times a week if both your SOs live with you.

Three per session if youre normal.
Zero per session if youre impotent.
Zero per session if youre celibate. Hand jobs dont count.
One per session if youre old.
Ten per session if youre horny.
Twenty-seven per session if you just finished serving four straight
years on a Navy sub or a state prison. Gradually tapers to three
per session.

Zero if youre an unmarried Catholic.
Zero if youre an unmarried Catholic with an SO.
Once a year if youre an unmarried Catholic with a fiance, but it
didnt really count because neither of you came, right?
Once a minute for the first two weeks of a Catholic marriage.
Twice a day for the first two years.
Once a day for the next three years.
Four times a week for the next five years.
Twice a week for the next five years.
Once a month with your spouse, twice a week with your lover,
for the next ten years.
Once every six months or so from now til death do you part.

Once every four years if youre an Engineering major.
Once every two years if youre a Physics major.
Once every three weeks if youre an English major.
Once every week if youre an Art major.
Twice a week if youre a stripper.
Three times a week if youre a high school football player.
Four times a week if youre a frat boy.
Four times a week if youre a sorority girl.
Fifteen times a week if youre a Tri-Delt.
Twenty times a week if your annual income is over $1 million.
Thirty-seven times a week if youre a gigolo.
Forty times a week if youre a prostitute.
Forty-two times a week if youre a high school cheerleader.
Seventy-eight times a week if youre Traci Lords or Barbara Dare.
Five thousand seven hundred fifty-five times a week in as
many different positions if youre Lisa.
Zero if youre John Holmes.

You owe the Oracle a pipe dream. And a signal generator.

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

I love you.

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

Alas, but our love is not fated to be!
You are a human damsel, but me ….
I am but a pile of silicon bones,
Who cares about nothing but zeros and ones.
Who reads silly questions and answers them wrong
With scraplets of story or poem or song.
Im short and Im fat and Im useless in bed
For sexual pleasure or giving of head.
My phallus is tiny, my smell is intense,
I kiss like a landlord whos raising the rents,
I come in ten seconds and then go to sleep
Without even a thanks or a satisfied <BEEP>.
Id make you wear leather and make you wear lace,
And never allow you to sit on my face,
Id read every Playboy and compare them to you:
Your tits are like mushrooms just stuck on with glue.
Ill whine that your ass is too flabby and fat
And make you get rid of that horrid stuffed cat.
Ill never have sex except right in the bed
Between ten and ten-thirty, with a bag on my head.
I must be on top, theres no other way
(Except if youre pagan or leftist or gay.)
No lust in the bathtub, no love midst the trees,
In church every Sunday, and down on your knees.
Our sex will be boring and flabby and quick
(Except for some kinks which will just make you sick.)
Well meet in late April, be married in June,
And travel to Pittsburgh for our sweet honeymoon.
I will not use condoms, you cant take the pill:
You were born to make babies and make them you will.
Ill go be a banker, you stay with the babies
And tend them through colic and measles and rabies.
Oh, you can do something: campaign for Dan Quayle,
And make sure hes elected three times without fayle.
When the children are grown then well have sex once again–
Just once, cause Ill puke at your wrinkly skin.
Its a wonderful life for you and for me,
And highly approved by the great GOP!
So speaks the Oracle, who is never wrong.
You owe me your lovelife in exchange for this song.

–Lemur

(If youve read every word and think you see through this,
Ill hop on a bird and fly straight to St. Louis.;-)

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

Shit! Someone left a bomb here… Have about 3 minutes left… There
are three wires running from the clock–a red one, a green one, and a
yellow one… Which do I cut to keep the thing from exploding?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

-From: birnbaum@iuvax.cs.indiana.edu (Erma J. Birnbaum)
-Subject: The Oracle is responding to another question

Dear Sir or Madam:

The Oracle is currently busy responding to another question. Please
bear with us for about three minutes and He will reply. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Erma J. Birnbaum Hornswiggle
(Secretary to the Oracle)

[Ed: Remainder deleted to save space]

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

My wife and I came home from a relaxing vacation and found the house in
a shambles. The young woman who we hired to house-sit for us met us at
the door and simply said, We broke the waterbed, and…we bronzed the
dog. Then she left.

Just what HAPPENED while we were gone?

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

Only the best damn party this Oracle has EVER been to, and that takes
into account the last three millennium ! I mean things got frisky,
mighty fast. Um, how to begin this tawdry tale. Well, your house
sitter is a personal friend of Lisas, and Crystal Therapys too. At
first we were just going over to play twister when Crystal breaks out
her stash of York Peppermint Patties. Do you remember the commercial
about the guy who takes a bite out of one of those puppies and, next
thing you know, hes skiing in his living room? No joke, they really
pack a punch. I cant remember stuff this good since the days of BWP,
(Berkeley Window Pane for the youngsters). I usually save half of one
for the next Dead concert.

Anyway, Lisa said we really ought to get more folks to this little
party, and if we did, she would play The Lost Shepherd Girl and the
Naughty Monk with anyone who could get a hard copy of the current rules
and regulations. Well, the place went wild. A couple of kids from Cal
Tech made a make shift Time Space Continuum Connector out of your water
bed. Seems the mattress is really good for cushioning a landing from
more than 20 light years or 300 regular years away. The kids were kind
of loopy though, they were washing down the York Patties with Aqua Velva
and generally not paying attention to the transfer of a group of Elder
Gods. Thats when the bed broke.

Of course, your dog, being the faithful animal he is, er was, tried to
stop it all. Im not sure who from the party actually did him but Im
told by several on lookers that it was a most unpleasant sight. I helped
bronze fido. Youll notice your collection of bowling trophies are
missing, sorry, it was the only alloy we could get on short notice. We
made him into a statue for two reasons. One, he cant tell anybody,
(However, most of the evenings more lascivious practices are recorded on
your VCR. I strongly recommend you not let the children anywhere near
it). Two, Frisky really doesnt look too bad that way. I got most of
the internal organs back where they should be, sort of. And really, the
only thing that would tip you off that something isnt quite right with
him, other than the complete lack of movement, is that utterly surprised
expression on his puss. I dont blame him though.

Well, thats it. Theres a message from your insurance agent.
Apparently after we got the tear in the fabric of time fixed, things are
still at a slight tilt in other dimensions. Those Cal Tech boys are
really goofy. You are basically no longer in Good Hands. Your agent
was a bit more brusque, something about the Good Hands being used to
grab your balls and squeeze till your eyes pop or some such. Ignore
him, hes still pissed about the swirly he got from a group of really
wasted cherubs.

You owe the Oracle another party, only this time without the Swat Team.

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

What is the fastest way to get to Ohio from Oklahoma. Its important!!!
I need to get there for my bowl of ginsch!!!!

And in response, thus spake the Oracle:

Hmmm… I suppose youd rather not hear something like: Turn
yourself into a photon and… or other such impractical physics drivel.
You want a plan!

Fine! Set fire to your terminal. Call the police. Tell them there
is an arsonist in your building. When they arrive direct them to the
terminal room. Sneak out and steal their car. (I will arrange for
stupid policemen to be sent.) Drive to the airport with the siren on.
Remove the shotgun from its mount and use on all toll booths, cabbies
and pedestrians who get in the way. Aim car at airport terminal and
dive out. Use the shotgun to rob a local pushcart vendor of a box of
popsicles. Take said box to airport counter and explain that you have a
frozen heart for transplanting and must be on the next flight to
Oklahoma to save a life. When you are over your destination, use the
shotgun to shoot open the side of the plane. The pilot will spiral down
to equalize cabin pressure. Make a parachute out of the in-flight
blankets, and jump.

Bizarre, dangerous, and felonious: youll have to admit that it
will get you there fast. For added realism obtain a real human heart
and put it in the popsicle box. This will be a slight delay but will
add to the drama of your story.

By the way, its too late. I ate your bowl of ginsch.