It’s been nuts here. I’m working on two books at once, dealing with a new medication that’s realigning my brain, getting the house locked down for winter, and talking sternly to my cat who has taken to disturbing my typing with a very polite paw on my arm that is impossible to resist. Strangely enough, this all makes me happy, but not as much as knowing that I could put light bulb jokes up here and you’d all still comment.
So go ahead. Make my day.
My favorite light bulb joke:
Question: How many mothers does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: It’s okay, I’ll just sit here in the dark.
My favourite:
How many counselors does it take to change a lightbulb?
Only one, but the lightbulb has to want to change.
I’ve just spent a lovely weekend at a thermal resort. Lots of time relaxing, surrounded by sunshine, forest and birds. Life is good.
And I’m looking forward to all the argh lightbulb jokes!
Mine was much like yours- Psychiatrists: Only one, but it will take years of therapy and even then succeed only if the light bulb really wants to change.
It occurs to me that I do not own even a single light bulb, neither incandescent nor fluorescent. I have completely converted over to LEDs. Every fixture, every plant grow light, everything is LEDs. How many Garys did it take to change light bulbs? Just me and a bucket of money. š
How many bureaucrats does it take to change a light bulb? 100 – 1 to change the bulb and 99 to write the environmental impact report.
As a former bureaucrat, I found this one amusing and accurate.
Weāre finally back to seasonal temps after a couple of weeks of spring-like weather. I planted my garlic and have started on my spring bulbs. The gardens and the compost bins are almost ready for winter.
I visited a close friend who had surgery this week to repair an ankle she broke several months ago. She was in a great deal of pain and talking seemed to distract her. I was running out of things to say so sang a few bars of āMichael Row Your Boat Ashoreā- one of the few songs I remember the lyrics to. We both agreed I should never sing again. We found a video of Pete Seeger singing a rousing version of the song (in tune) on YouTube.
Attended a potluck for the historic garden where I volunteer. Itās a lovely group of people. Representatives from the government agency that owns the garden reported on the status of a planned project to repair the stone walls that surround the garden – and is one of its defining historical features. They were appropriately bureaucratic.
I sound terrible when I sing, so my policy is to only sing for small children, and for people who have been drinking. šŖ
(There is an accordion emoji! Why?!? So I must use it at every opportunity!)
For some reason my cat Dmitri loves me to sing “our” song (to the tune of You’re Sixteen)
You’re my baby, you’re my pet
I fell in love on the day we met
You licked my hand, my heart went pop
And when you licked you could not stop
You walked out of my dreams, and into my arms
Now you’re my angel divine
You’re so cute, you’re beautiful and you’re mine.
I do not do this where anyone can hear me but Dmitri. Probably because the one time my husband heard me, he started laughing hysterically
I sing to Pixie-Oh, you beautiful dog, you great big beautiful dog. Let me put my arms around you. I could never live without you. Oh, you beautiful dog, you great big beautiful dog. If you ever left me how my heart would ache. I give you lots of pets for both our sake. Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh,Oh, you beautiful dog.-I live alone. She doesn’t seem to mind.
Omg I thought I was the only person who made up songs for their pets. It makes me so happy to know I’m not the only one.
I don’t make up songs for my own dogs, but for the dogs at work I have several.
From the days when I was a groomer I have a version of A Bicycle Built for Two inspired by a Standard Poodle named Daisy:
Daisy, Daisy, give me your front foot, do.
I’m half crazy all ’cause I’m grooming you.
I can’t afford a fracture;
I’m trying to distract yer,
But you’ll look great if you can wait
Till we get a comb all the way through!
Historic garden! Volunteer! Both are wowzers. So want to know which garden…
How many economists does it take to change a lightbulb? None. The market will take care of it.
How many hands? Only one, and itās invisibleš
I don’t comment often, but one of my happinesses is coming here most days and reading your lovely posts. I suffer from a syndrome and one of the side effects is not being able to tolerate meds to counteract the depression and anxiety. This is such an upbeat page, so thank you all.
I want to be able to like this comment more than once! It really is such an upbeat place, isn’t it? Even when we rant about a challenge or problem, it feels positive somehow, as everyone else comes along to support the rant!
And this is a rather diverse group so chances are good that someone here can either tell you how to do something or direct you to a place that can.
I feel you, Stephanie. I can’t tolerate depression meds either (although they will pry my Xanax out of my cold dead hands). This is definitely my happy place.
You said it, Stephanie! Not only is this blog a great source of love and laughter ( the best antidepressants I’ve ever tried ), but it is also free and free of side effects. Even chocolate, my drug of choice, can’t match that.
You’re welcome, and thank you for posting that, too!
I agree! The only other group I’ve ever found that was as fun and supportive as this one was a Weight Watcher’s group I belonged to about 15 years ago. That group was also predominantly women and also had a fantastic, smart, funny leader. Coincidence? I think not. ā¤ļø
How many birds does it take to change a lightbulb?
Toucan do it.
Happy groan.
But they tern it the wrong way
Oooo! Squawk!
How many copy editors does it take to change a light bulb?
I can’t tell if you mean ‘change a lightbulb’ or ‘have sex in a lightbulb’. Can we reword it to remove the ambiguity?
How many editors does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Only one. But first they have to rewire the entire building.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Will a fish joke so?
What does a fish say when it hits a wall?
Damn.
Okay, that took me a minute, and then I laughed out loud.
It’s my favorite, but I had to think a minute about how to spell it. Would dam have worked better?
In my head I used dam(n).
I have a mug commemorating someone’s birthday and on it they indicate he’s as old as the Hoover Damn . I laughed out loud at that one.
No, damn was the right way to go.
How many dogs does it take to change a lightbulb?
It depends on the breed.
Dachshund: You know I can’t reach that stupid lamp!
Rottweiler: Make me.
Border Collie: Just one. And then I’ll replace any wiring that’s not up to code.
Poodle: I’ll just blow in the Border Collie’s ear and he’ll do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house, my nails will be dry.
(There are more but you can find them easy online)
How many mystery-genre writers does it take to change a lightbulb?
One to screw it almost all the way in and the other to give it a surprising twist at the end.
How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
One to screw it in and one to observe how the lightbulb itself symbolizes a single incandescent beacon of subjective reality in a netherworld of endless absurdity reaching out toward the maudlin cosmos of nothingness
That one reminded me of the Pooh perplex. Did any of you ever read that? I know it proved that who was a communist, a homosexual, and something else but it was so long ago I donāt remember which is about where I am with lightbulb jokes. Canāt remember any. On the other hand I can do the blue back speller joke but you have to do aloud we had a friend named James glass and he told us that his uncle told that joke on every occasion. Weddings funerals AA meetings didnāt matter.
I am recovering grandsonās seventh birthday which was held at my house yesterday. What can go wrong did wrong. On the way home Walter remarked to his father āmy birthday was a disaster.ā He didnāt seem real unhappy about it.
A bunch of happy things this week. 1. I went on a knitting retreat! (https://knitigatingcircumstances.com/2022/11/13/retreat-repeat/) 2. The “red wave” didn’t happen! 3. Elon Musk has proved wildly entertaining while trashing Twitter!
You have a post. It had words in it. I have always thought “Sunday, happy, go” would be sufficient.
There are many versions of horoscope lightbulb jokes, but I chose this one because of the Tauruses I know and love: https://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/fun/jokes.php?ID=1862
Also happy be cause boss is out of town next week. I will sustain phone calls, but the level of tension will be SO much lower than in the pre-travel frenzy we had last week.
Last week I got the Halloween decorations down and put up the lights along my walkway, which we do not turn on until Thanksgiving. Until this year when DH started turning them on. I had a moment (EARLY = BAD) and then realized he is the one who can see them from his office window, and is really enjoying them, so I got over myself. I feel like a generous, loving adult. And now I will celebrate this achievement with cake like a …. well, let’s not go there.
As a Taurus, I approve of this light bulb joke.
But the burned out bulb is not useless! Not if you darn socks, which I do. Of course, you don’t need more than one….
I have a sock with a lightbulb inside it that I have been meaning to darn for a year or so….no, actually probably two years….oh. No! It must have been 2008, when I started that other job, or… wait, was it last century?
My DH is a Taurus – and I think it is spot on. As a Cancer I can cop to that one too.
OMG. I, too, am a Taurus and this is so apt. Getting rid of things I don’t need is soooo painful. I have a twin bed that has had only occasional use and the mattress is pristine. No one will accept an even slightly used mattress as a donation and it hurts me to dump it in the landfill when there are people who really need it.
Canāt you offer it on Freecycle? Thatās how I got rid of a couple of beds (with full disclosure) that charities couldnāt take because they hadnāt got modern fire-safety labels.
I donated a good mattress to a church outfitting a refugee family.
Thank you, JaneB and Lenny! Those are great ideas (I never heard of Freecycle before). I’ll try it.
If you are on Facebook, there are local freecycling groups.
I’m a capricorn with with aquarius in the ascendant which means very different aspects of personality. I can see myself in what the light bulb jokes say š
CAPRICORN: I don’t waste my time with these childish jokes.
AQUARIUS: Well, you have to remember that everything is energy, so…
I have no lightbulb joke. What I have instead is a paraphrased line from the latest Darynda Jones novel that is coming out next month that has had me laughing all week. And Darynda, in case you’re reading this, thank you for making my whole family laugh uproariously (and yes, I cheated, because I had an ARC). I’m putting it here amongst the lightbulb jokes because laugher is so healing: “Just remember, the first five days following a weekend are always the hardest.”
How many software developers does it take to change a lightbulb?
None. That’s a support task.
(I used to manage a software support team and this is less funny than true.)
Preach! (from the manager of a software support team).
My husband’s (a software developer)
response to that is none, that is a hardware problem.
As a software engineer, I concur.
lol so true
There has to be a Chuck Norris joke somewhere about the lightbulb not daring to blow out.
I’m happy because 1) I’m almost halfway through my NaNoWriMo-lite manuscript with roughly half the month left, 2) the friends I usually spend Thanksgiving with but haven’t in about five years due to various crises/pandemic/etc are cautiously planning to do Thanksgiving again this year, and 3) democracy in America didn’t die this week!
How many feminist does it take to change a lightbulb?
Thatās not funny.
Hahahahaha oh dear am I a bad feminist for laughing??
You totally are. But I must be an even worse one for making the joke in the first place.
I learned that mother joke as “How many Jewish mothers does it take to change a light bulb? None. I’ll just sit here in the dark.” It must, of course, be said with a Jewish mother accent. Because I’m actually Jewish, I’m allowed to tell it that way.
Here’s one that I learned as “Jewish American Princesses” but we’ll change it to rich girls to be less offensive.
How many rich girls does it take to change a light bulb?
Two.
One to dial the phone, and the other to say, “Daddy, I need a new apartment!”
ETA: How dare that light bulb burn out on MY CHILD!
Iād never heard that last one! I love it. Thank you.
I heard it as
None. “I’ll just starve here in the dark.”
How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb? Fish.
I heard it as: two, one to get the giraffe and one to fill the bathtub with brightly colored power tools.
No light bulbs were harmed for this joke:
There were two nuns… One of them was known as Sister Mathematical (SM), and the other one was known as Sister Logical (SL). It is getting dark and they are still far away from the convent.
SM: “Have you noticed that a man has been following us for the past thirty-eight and a half minutes? I wonder what he wants.”
SL: “It’s logical. He wants to rape us.”
SM: “Oh, no! At this rate he will reach us in 15 minutes at the most! What can we do?”
SL: “The only logical thing to do of course is to walk faster”
SM: “It’s not working.”
SL: “Of course it’s not working. The man did the only logical thing. He started to walk faster, too.”
SM: “So, what shall we do? At this rate he will reach us in one minute.”
SL: “The only logical thing we can do is split. You go that way and I’ll go this way. He cannot follow us both.”
So the man decided to follow Sister Logical. Sister Mathematical arrives at the convent and is worried about what has happened to Sister Logical. Then Sister Logical arrives.
SM: “Sister Logical ! Thank God you are here! Tell me what happened!”
SL: “The only logical thing happened. The man couldn’t follow us both, so he followed me.”
SM: “Yes, yes! But what happened then?”
SL: “The only logical thing happened. I started to run as fast as I could and he started to run as fast as he could.”
SM: “And?”
SL: “The only logical thing happened. He reached me.”
SM: “Oh, dear! What did you do?”
SL: “The only logical thing to do. I lifted my dress up.”
SM: “Oh, Sister! What did the man do?”
SL: “The only logical thing to do. He pulled down his pants.”
SM: “Oh, no! What happened then?”
SL: “Isn’t it logical, Sister? A nun with her dress up can run faster than man with his pants down.”
And for those of you who thought it would be dirty,
I’ll pray for you….
Last night I joined an historian friend who’s writing a biography of Rose Knox who made Knox Gelatine a huge success in the first half of the 20th century. My friend gathered four of us and we all made recipes from Rose Knox’s cookbook.
Amounts weren’t standardized until an international group announced an agreement after WWI. Several of our concoctions were thrown out due to wrong proportions.
One cook decorated a fish mold with sliced cucumber and olives which looked lovely until she added the softened gelatine and the vegetables floated every which way.
My friend’s Wine Jelly with stabilized Whipped Cream didn’t completely set but was tasty, perhaps from the Hatta liquor in it (20% alcohol).
My Chocolate Blanc Mange looked perfect until I picked up the mold and the bottom fell out. Slightly jelled hot chocolate coated the table, oozing between the boards, and the rug beneath was soaked. One photo shows a woman crawling under the table waving towels while I’m furiously trying to contain the mess on top. My friend is laughing.
Yes, there was plenty of prosecco.
How many Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb?
Change?!?!
I’m happy this week because I managed to create yet another chart to collate all the bits and pieces that might become a book.
And we had our first snow, and the first one is always magical. I don’t like winter, but the snow is pretty. Also, Nevada.
You all had all of my jokes, so I had to go searching for one. This made me chuckle.
How did the hipster burn his hand?
He changed the lightbulb before it was cool.
Ha!
I’m Happy this week because my knee held up and some of the things that often improve my mood worked beautifully. I went to the thrift shop and although I found very little, it gave me an excuse to drop off some picture books at my friends’ house. I got to see the latest pictures of their grand kids and hear about how Grandpa and the six year old read the comics together every weekend. I thought I had lost a glove on my way home but found it stuffed in the wrong pocket instead. I was VERY relieved to learn that I had not lost a glove in only 3 days.
My friend Pam says sheās committed to our Saturday supper-and-film nights, even though Iām nearly out of fun films she hasnāt seen (she had a TV-less childhood and an art-house film adulthood; Iāve been expanding her horizons with romantic comedies). I shall go sillier, and weāll watch some sheās actually seen before.
Iāve been happy to start planting my new plants and dreaming of future harvests of fruit and roses.
And today Pam and I went round open studios in a small town half an hour away. Had some great conversations with artists, and as always Iām feeling inspired.
Have you seen American Dreamer? It’s flawed but I still love it.
Not for ages. There should be a lot of films I can record over Christmas – Iāll look out for it.
If you mean the old American Dreamer with JoBeth Williams and Tom Conti – I was obsessed with that movie and in love with Tom Conti for a while back in the day.
With Tom Conti? I love that movie.
Have you already introduced her to AbFab? The series, I mean, rather than the movie. You could hardly get funnier than that….
Sunshine, leaves raked, driveway swept, dead plants removed, mowed the front lawn, hopefully for the last time this year. And Repeat. Still lots if leaves on neighbours trees. Lots!
Made the best stew ever Thursday. Splash of merlot upped the flavour. Visitors arriving Tuesday. Sunny and clear and cold this coming week. Yeah, no rain.
How many teens does it take to change a light bulb?
Light bulb?!? Iād be happy with underwear.
Teens:
“Mom, my light bulb burned out! Mom! MOM!” [Repeat until light bulb is changed or teen goes to friend’s house.]
How many Republicans does it take to change a lightbulb?
Hah! They canāt even change over the Senate.
I had someone tell me this one a few weeks ago:
What kind of shoes do serial killers wear?
White Vans.
I have just wasted over eight hours reading old Usenet posts while ostensibly looking for an old joke-post I wrote. I couldn’t find it on my old LiveJournal blog that dates back to 2004. I can’t search my old FaceBook account as it was deleted. It isn’t in my Usenet story discussion group, and now I’m looking at alt.callahans newsgroup, and I switched to Sailor Jim posts, because funny. Sooner or later, I’ll find the garlic story and share it, because garlic.
I guess it all hasn’t been wasted. I’ve laughed myself assless. Repeatedly. Absent friends.
… HERE IT IS! Fellow Garlic Lovers, ENJOY!
Sailor Jim Johnston
Jun 11, 2001, 4:00:09 PM
“Betrayed by fate and age! Distinctly betrayed, as those close to me
will gladly testify. A windfall of treachery that passes far too
slowly, but also far too quickly.”
Sailor Jim settles in at his customary table, placing an odd looking
cushion on his chair before sitting ā¦ and deliberately choosing to not
see the pointed glances at this action.
“To think that I – e’en I! Who have born such airs about me as only
those destined for true greatness! – That I could be surrounded by
such foul and fetid fumigation’s as these … it is surely not to be
born! How foul! How fell! How ā¦ about I tell you all about it?
“You see, I am a garlic fan … nay, a connoisseur … nay yet again,
an Alliophile of the first water! Aye, the stinking rose has no
greater booster than I! I possess racks of presses, jars of
preparations, bottles of dried spices; one cannot name a single aspect
of this noble bulb that I am not enamored of or expert with. From the
simple allium sativum, to the majestic allium scorodoprasum (not a
true garlic, but still beloved), I have sampled and embraced this
member of the Liliaceae family.
“Ophioscorodon or Sativum, I am your man. Be it Purple Stripe or
Porcelain, Rocambole or Artichoke or Silverskin, any subspecies or any
offshoot, I have used and loved them all!
“I use it as my favorite general spice for cooking, a garnish of
excellent variety, a flavoring that enhances any dish … in short,
and perhaps you’ve gathered this by now, I’m absolutely crazy for the
stuff!
“And yet …
“I have never owned a decent garlic roaster. The cheap metal kind,
the better clay models or the luxurious stoneware … I’ve always made
do without. I roasted in pans and open trays (even wrapped in tinfoil
over open flames) and have never had the chance to use a proper
roaster. In my youth, you see, I was first introduced to the marvel
of garlic through roasted cloves eaten as snacks, but — in that these
delights were roasted in stonewear and I did not have the wherewithal
to create this delightful dish myself — had not indulged since
“Why, you ask? Well, it was a snobbery thing I suspect, I suppose.
I’ve been too damn proud to buy one of those nasty metal
constructions, too cheap to purchase one of the better clay models,
and have never seen one of the better stoneware roasters so beloved by
professionals. Somehow, with the best out there, second best never
seemed good enough … for my beloved garlic, at any rate. I enjoyed
it in various dishes and fashions, and dreamt of the day that I could
repeat the sensation that first led me to its noble embrace.
“Then, out of the blue, a package arrived from a shipmate I barely
remembered! It was postmarked Italy and within was a garlic roaster.
I’ve received many roasters as gifts, but this was not just any sort
of roaster! No this was a gorgous stoneware roaster! It is the hand
carved image of a lovely giant head of garlic and can be used in stove
or microwave! The accompanying note thanked me for turning him onto
the medical benefits of this magical vegetable and that he couldn’t
help but think of me when he spotted this grand roaster in a small
shop located just outside of Sicily. The package had been routed to
me through four units and two civilian address changes … but it had
made it in one piece!
“O Joy, O Bliss!! I immediately dove into my stores. A Nootka Rose
or Rose du Var, perhaps? No, just a tad too hot for casual snacking.
Maybe a Simoneti? Too mild. A Red Toch? No, also too mild. After
agonizing moments of indecision, I finally settled on a Chinese Purple
for my first attempt at roasting. (The Asiatic group of artichoke
garlic’s tend to have a strong, yet smooth, taste and are an old
friend of mine. A clove of Chinese Purple is a delight to munch raw
and would roast up with style.)
“Two hours later, I had roasted at least one of every type I had in my
stores and was gently burping in appreciation. Dian had joined me in
my celebration of roasted ecstasy and we held a pleasant quibble on
the various qualities of the different roasting. It was a lovely
afternoon. I let the roaster cool, scrubbed it well, and – once dry –
set it in my wife’s curio cabinet for our viewing enjoyment and future
anticipation.” Sailor Jim’s soft sigh of remembered bliss is only
marred by a sudden spasm of pain cross his handsome feature. “Then, as
it is said, the boom fell.
“I was at work the next day when, to my considerable dismay, I
developed a major case of … well, let’s be kind and refer to it as
our English cousins do and call it ‘The Winds.’ It came upon me out
of the blue, totally unexpected … I immediately regretted having an
Egg McWhatsit for breakfast and quickly stepped to the bathroom to
break wind even faster. Safely and modestly ensconced within a stall,
I let my public reserve fall by the side and let rip a major fart with
loud nautical gusto. B Flat-ulent, if memory serves.
“The smell expanded to fill the entire room and sent those in the
other stalls into coughing fits. Crude cries of ‘Jeez!’ and ‘Holy
Moses!’ burst forth from the grown men within. I was astonished to
discover that I was gripped in the terror that is garlic farts!!
Easily ten times worse than any other farts one might imagine, garlic
farts had only been a laughable rumor up to that point. I had happily
eaten garlic all my life, in every way and form imaginable, without
ever having any reaction. Now I was sending grown men out into the
hall with just one flatulent burst. What could possibly explain such
an …
“Oh Dear God! I had pigged out on roasted garlic! I’d never had that
much roasted garlic … as a matter of fact, I hadn’t had any roasted
garlic, other than in small doses and always as an ingredient or
additive to something else, for years! Was it possible?! Could it
be!? No … capricious fate could not be so cruel, so … Rude!
“For the next six hours, I sounded off with distressing regularity.
People I generally hold, despite my fondness for the vast majority of
them, in consideration ranging from mild disdain to distant pity were
now openly giggling at me! Me! I kept finding packages of ‘BeanO’
and ‘Gas X’ on my desk after yet another trip to the john to release
some of the constantly building pressure. Aside from being insulting,
they did no good whatsoever. My intestines kept inflating like
odiferous Hindenburgs and I kept avoiding open flames.
“When I made it home and explained the situation to Dian (and after
she stopped laughing), she researched some of her medical books and
hazarded the guess that I was somewhat allergic to roasted garlic. I
scoffed and reminded her that we’d gorged ourselves on quite a
sizeable portion of garlic ā¦ perhaps my aromatic condition was due to
the mass of garlic consumed, not the fact that it had been roasted.
“We tested this theory of mine during the following weekend. Alas,
the tests are complete and the answer is bitter. A single roasted
clove is enough to result in the cats hiding under the bed and Dian to
spend the majority of her time deep in gales of laughter … hanging
out of a window, but still in gales of laughter.
“An avowed Alliophile who cannot consume roasted garlic without
becoming the walking equivalent of a toxic waste dump? I briefly
considered the possible out of offering my services for pest control,
then gave up and retired my roaster. It now sits, unused and forlorn,
in my wife’s curio cabinet … a mute testimony to the ravages of time
and how it is, truly, an ill wind that blows nobody good.” Sailor Jim
sighs and reaches for his drink.
SJ
How many dead bodies does it take to change a lightbulb?
I donāt know, but itās more than 7 because the basement is still dark.
We watched the first two episodes of Extraordinary Attorney Woo. That made me happy.
Saw the dead body joke on a “How Many” site, but the count was up to eight.
I giggledā¦
That… was a thing of beauty.
OMG Gary, that had me almost peeing!
We kicked off A Christmas Carol: The Musical this weekend!
Congrats, Jennifer!
I’m here again, I’m ok.
It’s been a tough year. Almost as bad as 2018 for me. Need to catch up with the things here. With my stuff, still no practical and actionable solutions in sight, just oddly getting energetically and mentally better sloowwwlyyy.
Dude, where’s my gravatar? š¤£š I has an Earth shot from space!
We missed you! Don’t go away again!
Sure Thing, I was just thinking earlier today that I hadnāt seen you here in a while. Iām so glad youāre okay!
Welcome back! Sympathies on the tough year. xxx
We missed you and will send you all our moral support to withstand the slow pace.
Sure Thing! Welcome back and sending good vibes for a better future!
All my lightbulb jokes have been used. Here’s a knock -knock joke: ask someone to say”knock-knock”. Then say, “who’s there?”.
repeat home in a couple weeks.
Here’s my HR Consultant knock-knock joke about downsizing:
HR: “Knock, knock.”
Employee: “Who’s there?”
HR: “Not you anymore.”
Unfortunately, that sounds too real to be a joke.
You’re right about that. I’ve seen some incredibly callous downsizings in my time – mass emails, meetings where you reach under your chair to find out your status, etc.
How many doctors does it take to change a lightbulb?
One GP to write the referral, at least two specialists to diagnose the problem, but everyone knows the nurse does all the actual work.
Ha! Funny, but not funny.
I was happy with our 70 degree (F) day on Saturday, and happy to have a normal November temperature for Sunday. Lots of moments made me happy, but when I hold still I feel sad. A fair amount of walking around in circles instead of doing what I need to do.
But absolutely delighted at the mid-term results!
Happy to be in London with my daughter. Thrilled at the election results but a little sad that the long shot of holding the House didnāt come through. On the other hand: keeping the Senate; picking up several governors and losing only one; winning every secretary of state in swing states; losing a state attorney general but picking one up too; winning the MI and MN state legislatures and PA house while losing none, and keeping the House majority so small they wonāt be able to functionā¦and also mostly winning the problem school board races ā¦ all good. Iām trying to forget how many Trumpy Election deniers are in the House and in important non swing state positions.
How many Trumpy Supporters does it take to change a light bulb?
“STOP THE LIGHT STEAL! STOP THE LIGHT STEAL! STOP THE LIGHT STEAL! STOP THE LIGHT STEAL!”
How many Evangelists does it take to change a light bulb?
“It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.”
Choir sings in background: “And if everyone lit just one little candle what a bright world this would beeeeeee.”
How many IT techs does it take to change a lightbulb?
Why would we change one lightbulb when we finally have the budget to redo the entire electrical system? Target date: one week!
Coffee vs. Decaf Coffee
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