The Chicken Gun
Scientists at NASA built a gun specifically to launch standard 4 pound dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of the windshields.
British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains. Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to the British engineers.
However, when the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield, smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control console, snapped the engineer's back-rest in two, and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin, like an arrow shot from a bow.
The horrified Brits sent NASA the disastrous resultsof the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield and begged the U.S. . scientists for suggestions.
NASA responded with a one-line memo --
"Defrost the chicken." (True Story)
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Rank Has Its Privileges
As the crowded airliner is about to take off, the peace is shattered by a five-year-old boy who picks that moment to throw a wild temper tantrum. No matter what his frustrated, embarrassed mother does to try to calm him down, the boy continues to scream furiously and kick the seats around him.
Suddenly, from the rear of the plane, an older man in the uniform of an Air Force General is seen slowly walking forward up the aisle. Stopping the flustered mother with an upraised hand, the white-haired, courtly, soft-spoken General leans down and, motioning toward his chest, whispers something into the boy's ear.
Instantly, the boy calms down, gently takes his mother's hand, and quietly fastens his seat belt.
All the other passengers burst into spontaneous applause. As the General slowly makes his way back to his seat, one of the cabin attendants touches his sleeve.
"Excuse me, General," she asks quietly, "but could I ask you what magic words you used on that little boy?"
The old man smiles serenely and gently confides, "I showed him my pilot's wings, service stars, and battle ribbons, and explained that they entitle me to throw one passenger out the plane door, on any flight I choose."
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Shrinking Patient
A man rushed into the doctor's office and shouted, "Doctor! I think I'm shrinking!"
The doctor calmly responded, "Now, settle down. You'll just have to be a little patient."
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Senior Citizen Discount
"$5.37." That's what the kid behind the counter at Taco Bell said to me.
I dug into my pocket and pulled out some lint and two dimes and something that used to be a Jolly Rancher. Having already handed the kid a five-spot, I started to head back out to the truck to grab some change when the kid with the Elmo hairdo said the hardest thing anyone has ever said to me. He said, "It's OK. I'll just give you the senior citizen discount."
I turned to see who he was talking to and then heard the sound of change hitting the counter in front of me. "Only $4.68," he said cheerfully.
I stood there stupefied. I am 56, not even 60 yet. A mere child! Senior citizen?
I took my burrito and walked out to the truck, wondering what was wrong with Elmo. Was he blind? As I sat in the truck, my blood began to boil. Old? Me?
I'll show him, I thought. I opened the door and headed back inside. I strode to the counter, and there he was waiting with a smile.
Before I could say a word, he held up something and jingled it in front of me, like I could be that easily distracted! What am I now? A toddler?
"Dude! Can't get too far without your car keys, eh?"
I stared with utter disdain at the keys. I began to rationalize in my mind. "Leaving keys behind hardly makes a man elderly! It could happen to anyone!"
I turned and headed back to the truck. I slipped the key into the ignition, but it wouldn't turn. What now? I checked my keys and tried another. Still nothing.
That's when I noticed the purple beads hanging from my rear view mirror. I had no purple beads hanging from my rear view mirror.
Then, a few other objects came into focus. The car seat in the back seat. Happy Meal toys spread all over the floorboard. A partially eaten doughnut on the dashboard.
Faster than you can say ginkgo biloba, I flew out of the alien vehicle.
Moments later I was speeding out of the parking lot, relieved to finally be leaving this nightmarish stop in my life. That is when I felt it, deep in the bowels of my stomach: hunger! My stomach growled and churned, and I reached to grab my burrito, only it was nowhere to be found.
I swung the truck around, gathered my courage, and strode back into the restaurant one final time. There Elmo stood,
draped in youth and black nail polish. All I could think was, "What is the world coming to?"
All I could say was, "Did I leave my food and drink in here"? At this point I was ready to ask a Boy Scout to help me back to my vehicle and then go straight home and apply for Social Security benefits.
Elmo had no clue. I walked back out to the truck, and suddenly a young lad came up and tugged on my jeans to get my attention. He was holding up a drink and a bag. His mother explained, "I think you left this in my truck by mistake."
I took the food and drink from the little boy and sheepishly apologized.
She offered these kind words: "It's OK. My grandfather does stuff like this all the time."
All of this is to explain how I got a ticket doing 85 in a 40. Yes, I was racing some punk kid in a Toyota Prius. And
no, I told the officer, I'm not too old to be driving this fast.
As I walked in the front door, my wife met me halfway down the hall. I handed her a bag of cold food and a $300 speeding ticket. I promptly sat in my rocking chair and covered up my legs with a blankey.
The good news was, I had successfully found my way home.
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Shakey
"Doc," Shakey said, "I've got trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there's somebody under it. I get under the bed, I think there's somebody on top of it. Top, under, top, under. You gotta help me; I'm going crazy!"
"Just put yourself in my hands for two years," said the shrink. "Come to me three times a week, and I'll cure your fears."
"How much do you charge?"
"A hundred dollars per visit."
"I'll sleep on it," said Shakey.
Six months later, the doctor met Shakey on the street.
"Why didn't you ever come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist.
"For a hundred bucks a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars."
"Is that so! How?"
"He told me to cut the legs off the bed!"
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