The paomnnehil pweor of the hmuan mnid.
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in
waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
amzanig huh?
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Morris, a bright nine year old came running to his Dad, ' Daddy....I've just seen this new computer that goes straight from the
keyboard to hard copy without a hard drive!', little Morris said breathlessly.
...The nine year old had just seen his first typewriter!
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A man died and went to heaven. As he stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him. He asked, "What are all those clocks?" St. Peter answered, "Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on Earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie the hands on your clock will move."
"Oh," said the man, "whose clock is that?" "That's Mother Teresa's. The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie." "Incredible," said the man. "And whose clock is that one?"
St. Peter responded, "That's Abraham Lincoln's clock. The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abe told only two lies in his entire life."
"Where's Bush's clock?" asked the man. "Bush's clock is in Jesus' office. He's using it as a ceiling fan.
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In a Brooklyn upscale pet shop Sarah Goldman, an elderly woman burst into the store. "I want to buy a canary, but it's got to be a real good singer. I've got good, hard U.S. cash, but I'm only paying only for a good singer."
The shop owner began moving a ladder towards a small cage on a shelf about fifteen feet up, near the ceiling of the store. "Ma'am, I'm forty years in this business. In that cage is the best singer I've ever had ."
"Don't think I'm gonna feel obligated to pay for something I don't want just because you're climbing up a ladder like a monkey. I want a canary but it's got to be the best singer."
By this point the shop keeper was coming down from the ladder. "Ma'am, this bird is a veritable feathered Caruso!" Placing the cage on the counter, the bird burst into melody after melody.
Awed Mrs. Goldman murmured, "This bird is really a good singer." Suddenly in a shrill scream, "Hey, what's with you ? This bird's only got one leg."
The pet store owner was unperturbed, "Lady what do you want a singer ? . . . . . . or a dancer?"
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