“Almost” counts in way more than just horseshoes and hand grenades. A nearly perfect holiday dinner with both your relatives and hers is pretty damned miraculous. The bomb destroying almost the entire city darned sure means a lot to the people in the buildings that were only almost destroyed. And trust me, if a bunch of monkeys chained to typewriters wrote up to:
“How does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the d32g45a54”
before their manuscript disintegrated into random keystrokes, you’d be impressed.
But if you recognized those lines as the opening of the last act in the last play William Shakespeare wrote independently, and connected it to the popular theory that an infinite number of monkeys hitting keys at random could write the entire works of that playwright, well, that’s almost unbelievable.
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