Acceptance Letter for Oracularity Award

It is ironic (or strangely just? You decide) that I should be the one to receive an award that commemorates the new name of the Great One, as I have been vehemently opposed to such a change from the start. It is equally ironic that I cannot benefit from the prize as I only have a SparcStation and a Macintosh at home. Perhaps it IS just.

You have to understand. The Oracle and I have been together a long time, almost as long as you and he (my first contribution to a digest was in issue 11). He was there when my hard drive crashed (“so you lost a bunch of nudie pictures, so what”); he was there when I graduated (“stay in school”); he offered advice about my first job (“bail, man”) and my lovers (“dump ’em”); he consoled me through layoffs (“keep looking”) and working for IBM (“RUN AWAY!”); and, most importantly, he told me who would win in a showdown between Picard and Darth Vader (“depends on WHICH Picard and Vader”). I was there when Lisa appeared, when Barbara was in vogue, when the Oracle couldn’t decide whether he was a super-intelligent computer or an obscure panmythologic deity, and when he had to hoof it over to Radio Shack to buy parts for a <ZOT!> gun. I witnessed woodchucks, lemurs, and other fantastic beasts have their Warholian fifteen minutes. Changing the Oracle’s name at this point is almost akin to killing him. It just won’t be the same, somehow.

Anyway, I’m waxing maudlin. As Shakespeare so simply put it: “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I will get used to the new look-n-feel, but it will take Time.