A collector of rare books ran into an acquaintance who told
him he had just thrown away an old Bible that he found in a
dusty, old box. He happened to mention that Guten-somebody-
or-other had printed it.
"Not Gutenberg?" gasped the collector.
"Yes, that was it!"
"You idiot! You've thrown away one of the first books
ever
printed. A copy recently sold at auction for half a million
dollars!"
"Oh, I don't think this book would have been worth
anything
close to that much," replied the man. "It was
scribbled all
over in the margins by some clown named Martin Luther."
Checking out of the grocery store, I noticed that the bag
boy was eyeing my two adopted children curiously. They
often draw scrutiny, since my son's a blond Russian, while
my daughter has shiny black Haitian skin.
The boy continued staring as he carried our groceries to
the car. Finally, he asked, "Are those your kids?"
"Yes, they are!" I answered proudly.
"They adopted?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"I thought so," he concluded. "I figured you're
too old to
have kids that small."
Our Supply Clerk at the factory where I work, discovered a
box that was left on the loading dock with this warning
printed on it: DANGER DO NOT TOUCH!
Management was called and all employees were told to stay
clear of the box until it could be analyzed.
When the foreman arrived, he donned gloves and safety
glasses, and then, very carefully opened the box. Inside
were 25 signs that read: DANGER! DO NOT TOUCH!
There was a knock at the door. It was a small boy, about six
years old. Something of his had found its way into my garage,
he said, and he wanted it back.
Upon opening the garage door, I noticed two additions: a base-
ball and a broken window sporting a baseball-sized hole.
"How
do you suppose this ball got in here?" I asked the boy.
Taking one look at the ball, one look at the window, and one
look at me, the boy exclaimed, "Wow! I must have thrown
it
right through that hole!"
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