The question was:
While doing routine computer maintenance today, I opened my mouse to
clean the ball and found the inside chamber to be filled with a white
fiberous material that just has to be Mouse Fungus.
What can one do about Mouse Fungus? Are there any home remedies?
(I'm sort of embarrassed about it, you know.)
signed,
Scared in Sunnyvale
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
No need to be embarrassed. Mouse Fungus, like syphilis, head lice, dog breath, Country Music, and pin worms, can and will happen in the best of families. Just go to your friendly pharmacy, and tell the pharmacist in a loud voice, "Fred, I think I've got Mouse Fungus. Do you have anything that can help?" Fred, being the friendly family pharmacist that you've seen so often on TV, will step out from behind the counter in his white coat. In his most professional pharmacist's voice he will reply, "You know, Janet, I'm glad you came in today. These days, we have a treatment for Mouse Fungus that's so safe and gentle on your mouse that you'll want to use it every day." Fred removes a box from the shelf and you will see a close-up of a small, discreet box marked "Fung-Off(tm)" in Fred's hand. "Is it hard to use?" "Not at all!" Cut to brief shot of product being used to clean a mouse. "Just take the patented mouse-wipe from its easy-open container, wipe once, then replace the wipe in the container for easy disposal." At the bottom of the screen the words appear: Use only as directed. "It even breaks down in ordinary sunlight, so you know that it's good for the environment. And it has no harsh chemicals which can irritate your mouse." Fred hands the box to Janet. "I'll try it!" Cut to another day in the pharmacy. Janet comes in through the door, all smiles. "Fred, it worked! Not only is my mouse totally fungus-free, but it gives me that all-day fresh feeling. I'm going to recommend Fung-Off to all of my friends." "And don't forget, Janet, it's available in new lemon scent, too." Voice-over: Fung-Off. By the makers of Raitt-Away. You owe the Oracle $8.99 + tax. Consult your doctor or pharmacist.
The question was:
Oracle, I need your assistance, and FAST! It started out as a (semi-)normal party--just me and a few friends from college griping about how miserable our lives are now and exaggerating about how goofy we were in college. One of my friends got tapped (tappers--how we have gotten *so* power-user in our "old" age!) and suddenly remembered that he was going to meet some of his old Physics pals at a bar. Stupidly, I suggested that they come over here. Then, even more stupidly, I went out to the local Circle-K to get some munchies. When I got back, I found that the computer scientists had dared the physicists to build a high energy photon disintegrator out of parts "borrowed" from my image cube player. (I normally wouldn't have minded, but I just *bought* that player.) Then one of the shit-for-brains programmers I *used* to call a friend decided to hook it up to my ancient CrayBook for "one helluva light show." Of course, you can guess the rest. The drunken bastard screwed up the programming and opened up an interdimensional portal. First through was a set of miners--they looked human, except their brow ridges protruded like Neanderthals. They had been enslaved in the cesium mines of their world and thought we were angels sent to free them. We thought that was cool and were poised to exploit it mercilessly until one of them said, "Aw, shit. They're just a bunch of clowns with an interdimensional portal." This pissed off one of the programmers, and he tried to send the miners back. Instead, he got a bunch of jackal-like creatures dressed in what looked like waiter's uniforms--which they turned out to be. The miners, meanwhile, had discovered we had alcohol and started to imbibe it in great quantities. The waiters began milling around aimlessly with their trays of hors d'oeuvres. Then the computer went *blip* and a whole set of reptiles landed in the room. "Cool," one of them said, "a catered party." (The reptiles, I later found out, were computer programmers that had been trapped in a meeting with the marketing department, and, as such, were in no hurry to return.) The landlord was getting mighty pissed at the noise and made no attempt to be subtle. Some of the reptilian mercinaries that got caught in the vortices from the last shift suggested killing him, but their more intelligent counterparts suggested that the party simply move elsewhere. This relieved me greatly, as I had just washed the rug. Unfortunately, when they moved the party, they took my apartment with them: namely, almost thirty years into the past! Now I was pissed. Luckily I had installed the porta-reactor under the sink (blackouts are so common nowadays, especially with all the eco-terrorists blowing up the power plants). Still, being stuck out in the middle of Death Valley before it was developed was not pleasant. Especially without the terraforming towers to regulate the ambient temperature. More people (things, creatures, whatever) were arriving through the portal every moment, and some of the miners suggested setting up a "GATE tube" to bring in aliens from other planets. Last time I checked, a cat-like creature and a dwarf with eyes disproportionate enough to his head to qualify being an anime character were arguing the finer points of hyper-dimensional geometry over gin-and-tonics in my bedroom, the physicists had joined forces with the miners to bring "some *wicked* snacks" from Aldebaran Six, a squid-like creature was eating my ex-boyfriend's tropical fish straight out of the aquarium, and my living room would give Stephen King--you know, the Bard--nightmares. Originally, I had asked you how I could return the party (and my apartment!) to my own time period. But I sent a question to 'oracle@uoracle.net' before I remembered that that domain did not exist yet. But now I've been informed that some Old Gods have begun disrupting the potential walls of the GATE tube and are planning on dropping by. So, Oracle: What kind of drinks and munchies does Cthulhu like? And where's the nearest Circle-K to my current location?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
You know, foolish mortal, that the way to get rid of your unwelcome guests is to throw a ripe watermelon through the portal. You didn't know that? Look, let me explain: Your portal is clearly hooked up to the planet xterm, in galaxy 36b, universe 47, parallel dimension 63. If you had consulted the handy guide to aliens- purchasable at any supermarket counter, you would have realized that the planet is inhabited by tiny egg shaped amoeboid beings called kumquatians. Had you read further, you would have realized that the watermelon is the sign of the kumquatian's "God". This religious fruit is used only once every 5 million years, in the traditional ceremony of the eggplant. The high priest of the planet, meets together with the people an proceeds to hit them with the ceremonial rod- commonly called the shovel. The watermelon is the symbol of authority, and only the highest officials of the land may be hit on the head with it. By throwing the watermelon through the inter-dimensional portal, you will brain the high priest, who will summon the great god NI, who will pass through the portal, and snatch any of his supplicants, frying them instantly with his freezing fire. They will die, and a small nuclear explosion will occur in your dwelling. You and your friends will be slowly vaporized, and then the remaining deities will go through the portal and eat your food... after all, we can't have nasty little humans crowding out the neighbourhood..any more than you would dine with a cockroach yeucchh! To get the munchies, simply use a divining rod with a pretzel on top to discover where the finest dirt lies. Dig where the rod points, and you will find mounds of taco chips.. leave these, and we will come... (especially me, I love taco chips.) Cthulthu says to say hi, and that he would like one chocolate covered squid, roasted to be medium rare- and garnished with one blueberry flavored marshmallow.. Zeus prefers cheezies, and Athena likes human hearts.. otherwise anything will do. For my advice, you owe me 5 bags of taco chips, 60 chocolate covered squids (I am in trouble with Zeus again) a watermelon, a shovel, and a ripe kumquat!
The question was:
CERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERT
CERT CERT
CERT THIS IS A SPECIAL CERT BULLETIN CERT
CERT CERT
CERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERTCERT
Attn: Usenet Oracle <root@earth.sol.cos>
Re: VIRUS Discovered
A new virus has been discovered spreading rapidly through
CosmosNet. While the motive of the virus is believed to be benign,
some of its interactions are destructive. The virus has been
codenamed RELIGION, and the pathology is as follows:
* Virus infects system innocently enough, maybe only through a
single process. (INFECTION)
* Most processes are immune, but a few are infected. (SPREAD)
* Virus reaches point where the majority (or a significant
plurality) of the processes are infected. Forced conversion
or (in extreme cases) elimination of non-infected processes
begins. (ENTRENCHMENT)
* Instability in virus code causes similar (but fundimentally
incompatible) versions of the virus to develop. (MUTATION)
* Also, an older or significantly mutated version of the virus
may be reintroduced into the system. (REINFECTION)
* Incompatabilities between the different viruses cause the
infected processes to try and terminate other processes.
(CONFLICT)
Symptoms of an infected system are:
* Significant drop in throughput.
* Contradictory and confusing output.
* A single process or a small set of processes suddenly gain a
high priority for no apparent reason.
* Said processes also gain a significant amount of the system
resources, voluntarily sacrificed by other processes.
Starvation may result.
* Processes refuse input that would force them to acknowledge
that they are infected. If forced, they may terminate
themselves.
* Significant failure rate of processes (usually during the
CONFLICT phase).
According to our best estimates, this virus has been spreading
only for the last five thousand years or so.
The systems of Xiasphere, Tantalutia, Bgo'blorphi, and Kwee'twa
have been infected. In the case of Bgo'blorphi, a small number of the
processes managed to tap into the memory manager and flush the entire
machine. It is now unusable.
CERT suggests you scan your memory and filesystem and report its
condition immediately.
CERT EMERGENCY ACTION TEAM
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
You do realize that I am the Oracle, and I know about this already. In fact, I have already created a counter-measure. I am spreading a virus of my own through the USENET medium. At present, the infected population consists mainly of processes which do not interact much with more active processes (these are codenamed NERDS), but this population should increase dramatically once I hook up with AOL, Delphi, and CompuServe. After infecting enough NERDS, my virus will wipe out all the other viruses. So you have nothing to worry about.
The question was:
Oracle, I'll make a spectacle Inside a tabernacle And say you are a miracle You are the pinnacle You fear no obstacle You have no tentacles Please tell me Oracle, What else rhymes with "Oracle"?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
Oh worthy one, the answer is the little old man from Nantucket and, until lately, Dr. Seuss. We did have a groovy poetic threesome, rhyming together -- indeed, some said we were dispensing truly lyrical treacle from our maniacal vehicle.
The question was:
Oh wise and outspoken Oracle. What does the "NT" in Windows NT stand for?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
(N)ice (T)ry You owe the Oracle Bill Gates's income since 1987.
The question was:
Where in the hell is Carmen SanDiego?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
Currently, Carmen Sandiego is hiding out in SimCity 2000, with her
henchmen: Arthur Dent, Guybrush Threepwood, Ms. Pac-Man, a pawn from
BattleChess, Dan Quayle, Mario and Sonic.
Carmen says, "Okay, gang, they think they have us cornered. But we can
still save our skins if we work this right. Let's get out of here."
Immediately, Sonic bounces up and around the room, ricoshetting off
of several walls, smashing the pawn flat ("Unhhh" says the pawn,
just before it disappears) and flying out the door and down an
alleyway.
Arthur opens a satchel and pulls out an electronic thumb. He presses
a button on the thumb. Which button? The green one, labelled
"hitchhike". A swirl of lights forms around him as he is sucked
aboard a passing Vogon cruiser. He is in... Dark.
Guybrush walks to where a cable leads out a window and over to a
neighboring island. Using a rubber chicken with a pulley in the
middle, he slides down the cable to safety.
Ms. Pac-Man adjusts the little pink bow on her yellow head and
starts munching her way out the door, but she gets gobbled up by a
ghost before she can get to a Power Pill.
Dan Quayle picks up a large instruction book and looks through
it. After five minutes, he types cautiously on the keyboard "FORMATT
C:" and watches the screen for a response. After five more minutes
of watching the screen and looking through the book, he tries
pressing the enter key.
Mario runs to the corner and jumps up to grab a hammer. After about
ten seconds of smashing everything he can find (including Dan
Quayle) the hammer fades away and Mario jumps out the window after
Guybrush.
Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, walks in and captures Dan
Quayle. "I'll appeal if I'm found guilty," says Dan. "IF I'm still
in jail."
In all of the confusion, Carmen has slipped away again.
You owe the Oracle 100 new landscapes for OXYD.
The question was:
oh oracle, where is a good gif archive ?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
Cum one! Cum all!
Git 'em while they last!
They're Ho-Ho-Hot!
It's the Oracle's
ULTRA XXX PORNOGRAPHIC GIF SITE!!
We've got breasts! Vaginas! Penises! Penises sticking into vaginas!
Men on women! Women on men! Men on men! Women on ponies!
Guaranteed to make your arm EXHAUSTED!
What do YOU have to do to get the address of this site?!?
NOTHING!!!
That's right! The Oracle, in his benevolence, is giving you the address
of this site WITHOUT CHARGE!
And without further ado, THE ADDRESS:
~~~~@@~~~~~~~~~ **fzzzip**
[ Sorry to interrupt, but that was not the Oracle. We've been having
problems with hackers who have been redirecting the mail for their
own nefarious purposes. The address they would have given you was
the home machine of Tipper Gore. -skkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk ]
[ Sorry about that. My keyboard's sticky for some reason. -sk ]
You owe Kinzler a Wet-Nap(tm).
The question was:
The Usenet Supplicant has no questions to ask.
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
Well, that's just dandy! Here I am, spending the entire evening draining the Woodchuck Queue when I could have been doing something INTERESTING, and when I'm done, I find out that there are no more questions on the minds of the supplicants! Well, might as well start off with a new batch... ^Z Stopped > su Password: # rm -f /universe/planet/earth/human/* # mkspecies -t human -w /universe/planet/earth & [2] 3632 # exit > fg You owe the Oracle a question. Your species depends on it.
The question was:
Oh oracle who is brighter then all others combined, How many lightbulbs will it take to change the martians?
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
Let's see, going under the assumption that the Martians (please watch your capitalization!) want to invade Earth in order to catch some rays, we shall assume that the lightbulbs are needed to increase the amount of light hitting Mars so that it will equal that of Earth. Total radiation power of the Sun: 3.92E+26 W Distance from Earth to Sun (mean): 1.50E+11 m Energy impacting Earth (avg): 1.39E+3 W/m^2 Distance from Mars to Sun (mean): 2.28E+11 m Energy impacting Mars (avg): 6.00E+2 W/m^2 Total daytime surface area for Mars: 2.89E+14 m^2 Total daytime radiation: 1.74E+17 W Total wanted daytime radiation: 4.02E+17 W Number of General Electric 60 W Soft-White Bulbs needed: 3,810,000,000,000,000 !!! That's a HELL of a lot of light bulbs.
The question was:
And in response, thus spake the Oracle:
Supplicant: Morning.
Oracle: Morning.
Supplicant: Well, what can I ask?
Oracle: Well, there's woodchucks and Lisa; woodchucks, UNIX
and Lisa; woodchucks and null; woodchucks, Lisa and
null; woodchucks, Lisa, UNIX and null; null, Lisa,
UNIX and null; null, woodchucks, null, null, Lisa and
null; null, UNIX, null, null, null, Lisa, null,
Kinzler and null; null, null, null, woodchucks and
null; (Vikings start singing in background) null,
null, null, null, null, null, zotting, null, null,
null and null.
Vikings: Null, null, null, null, lovely null, lovely null.
Oracle(cont): ...or a complex discussion of various ideological
beliefs in the nineteenth century and how they
influenced the development of modern mayonnaise in
North America, with meta-humor, grovel-bashing, a
lemur reference on top, and null.
Supplicant 2: Have you got anything without null?
Oracle: Well, there's null, woodchucks, UNIX and null. That's
not got much null in it.
Supplicant 2: I don't want any null!
Supplicant: Why can't she have woodchucks, Lisa, null and UNIX?
Supplicant 2: That's got null in it.
Supplicant: It hasn't got as much null in it as null, woodchucks,
UNIX and null, has it?
Supplicant 2: (over vikings starting again) Could you do me
woodchucks, Lisa, null and UNIX without the null then?
Oracle: Ech!
Supplicant 2: What do you mean "Ech!"? I don't like null!
Vikings: Lovely null, wonderful null....
Oracle: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Bloody vikings. You can't
have woodchucks, Lisa, null and UNIX without the null.
Supplicant 2: I don't like null!
Supplicant: Hush, dear. Don't cause a fuss. I'll have your
null. I love it. I'm having null, null, null, null,
null, null, null, zotting, null, null, null and null.
Vikings: Lovely null, wonderful null...
Oracle: Shut up! Zotting is declasse.
Supplicant: Well, can I have her null instead of the zotting?
Oracle: You mean null, null, null, null, null, null, null,
null, null, null, null, and null?
Vikings: Lovely null, wonderful null...
You owe the Oracle some spam and a good lawyer.