BLONDE JOKE OF THE DAY

(With apologies to all blondes out there. Natural or otherwise.)


So it's Friday night, and this blonde decides to go and see this new ventriloquist act that comes to town. The papers have been saying great things about it, MARVELLOUS things, in fact, and she needs a little sunshine in her life right now, this blonde does.

She arrives early, gets a nice seat, smack dab in the middle, sucks some gobstoppers and settles in to enjoy the show.

Out comes the ventriloquist, an old, balding, gentle-as-can-be looking chap wearing an old cardigan vest and bright green tie. Gripped in his right hand is his grinning wooden friend, smiling that idiot-smile found all on all dummies, wooden or not. He sits on a small green stool, centre stage, rests the dummy on his right knee, nods a little nod to the crowd, and gets to work.

Out come the jokes. One after the other. And guess what, folks? They're all bonde jokes. ALL of them.

Not surprisingly, the blonde is shocked. Stunned. Disgusted and dismayed. She looks around and sees that everyone ELSE seems to be enjoying the show, thank-you very much. Some people are giggling. Others are roaring. Still others are laughing so hard that tears are drizzling down their cheeks, leaving, literally, small pools of water on the floor.

After twenty minutes, the blonde's had enough. QUITE enough. She's listened to these kinds of jokes all her life, and enDURED them all her life, but no more. Tonight's the night when she makes a stand. When she demands the respect that all blondes deserve.

She stands up, takes a deep breath (to gather her courage), and then, shaking, screams:

"Enough! ENOUGH! I've been here for twenty minutes, and I've heard nothing, NOTHING but blonde jokes! And YOU may think it's funny and THEY may think it's funny, but let me tell you -- I sure as heck don't think it's funny, mister!"

The old man's eyes pop wide. His mouth opens and closes. He looks around the hall, at the suddenly silent crowd.

"Oh my," he says. "My oh my oh MY. I'm truly sorry, ma'am, if you were offended. I, well, I was only telling JOKES, you see, and I never imagined that --"

"You be quiet!" the blonde yells, waving her finger at the ventriloquist. "This is between me and the little man sitting on your knee!"