OT: Blonde Mortician

A slow day in the newsroom.
Enjoy
Lew --------------------------------------- A man who just died is delivered to a local mortuary wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit.
The female blonde mortician asks the deceased's wife how she would like the body dressed she points out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing.
The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked his best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit.
She gives the Blonde mortician a blank check and says, 'I don't care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.'
The woman returns the next day for the wake.
To her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly ....
She says to the mortician, 'Whatever this cost, I'm very satisfied . You did an excellent job and I'm very grateful. How much did you spend?'
To her astonishment, the blonde mortician presents her with the blank check.
'There's no charge,' she says.
'No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit!' she says.
'Honestly, ma'am,' the blonde says, 'it cost nothing.
You see, a deceased gentleman of about your husband's size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit.
I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice.'
'So I just switched the heads.'
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<snip> A guy stuck his head into a barbershop and asked, 'How long before I can get a haircut?'
The barber looked around the shop full of customers and said, 'About 2 hours.'
The guy left.
A few days later, the same guy stuck his head in the door and asked, 'How long before I can get a haircut?'
The barber looked around at the shop and said, 'About 3 hours.'
The guy left.
A week later, the same guy stuck his head in the shop and asked, 'How long before I can get a haircut?* The barber looked around the shop and said, 'About an hour and a half '
The guy left.
The barber turned to his friend and said, 'Hey, Bob, do me a favor. Follow that guy and see where he goes.
He keeps asking how long he has to wait for a haircut, but then he doesn't ever come back.'
A little while later, Bob returned to the shop, laughing hysterically. The barber asked, 'So, where does that guy go when he leaves?' Bob looked up, wiped the tears from his eyes and said,
'Your house!'
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Subject: Female Singer
Before the gig, the bandleader calls the female singer over to him and tells her, "Tonight, when we do 'Night and Day,' I want you to sing the second verse first, and then break into the bridge one bar earlier than usual. Transpose the bridge up a minor third, but then back down again for the last three bars of it. Then add a 5/4 bar going back into the FIRST chorus, singing on only off-beats. During the sax solo, go to the bridge a bar-and-a-HALF too early, interrupting the solo, finish the first verse, go to the coda a bar late, and then keep singing for a full 3 beats after the band has ended."
Her eyes widen and she says, "That's way too hard, I can't do all that."
He says, "You did it last night!!
--
www.e-woodshop.net
Last update: 10/22/08
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monitor, keyboard, desk etc....
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On Mon, 15 Feb 2010 13:19:59 -0800 (PST), the infamous Robatoy

Silly boy. Don't you know to sip (coffee, whatever), swallow, and only THEN return your gaze to the screen with the Wreck on it.
-- It's a great life...once you weaken. --author James Hogan
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One of my favourites:
A jazz trumpet player dies in a subway mishap and instantly finds himself in what must be heaven. He starts walking around, taking in the sights. He notices that everything is light, fluffy, soft colors and such he says to himself, Like wow, it's so pastel... He sees people sitting around, plucking harps, lyres and dulcimers and muses Whoa, it's like, so, modal. He continues wandering, becoming more and more bored. Tries flying with the wings he seems to have sprouted with little success and thinks Must take pixie dust or some shit like that. He wonders why there hasn't been any explanation or introductions made. He wants a cigarette but has none.
Out of nowhere comes a very different looking angel. This one has long, shoulder length curly hair, a brightly colored set of robes that look like the caftans Miles Davis used to design. As he comes closer the musician sees that he's wearing black frame RayBans, and is carrying a gorgeous full on Harry James circus trumpet in one hand. The weird angel walks up to him and offers out his hand for some skin saying, Hey baby, I just got hipped that you were here, welcome to heaven. That's where you are, all musician's go straight through, no line, no grouchy saints at the gates, right on in. I'm archangel Gabriel, but the cats all just call me Gabe. I'm going to get you all slick with the scene up here. Did you bring your ax?
The trumpet man starts feeling about his robes and, like magic, finds his favourite trumpet, except now it's gold with silver filigree highlights and a solid gold Rubicon mouthpiece. He think about a Horning mute and it just appears in his other hand. He starts to smile.
Gabe continues, The scene here is mind blowing kid, we have an eternal jam session, everybody, playing everything all the time. No matter what you want to blow, it's happening right here. You want to blow classics? They all here baby. Bach, Beethoven, Handel, Chopin, all them, all the time playing. Want to blow Mozart? That child sets records baby, never quits, he asked once about playing some pool but we don't have money up here and he got bored real fast. You want jazz? Harry's here, Ella, Satch, Miles, Train, Dexter, Krupa, Goodman, both Dorseys, you want in? Just tune up and sit. They been asking about you. Want blues? We got Bessie, Billy, Son House, Robert Johnson (there was no deal baby, you can dance with the devil but he don't let nobody else play), Blind Lemon, all them, all here, always playing. Rock? Hah! Those kids are dropping like flies baby, we got them all too. Anything you want, anytime you want it. How's that for Heaven?
The jazz baby is starting to dance a bit, warming his mouthpiece in his hands, working his lips in and out, trying to decide where to sit in first. He says Yeah, this is heaven, this really is heaven, where's Miles? Ain't had much work since he been gone, I want to see Miles again. This is HEAVEN.
Gabriel says, Yeah, heaven it is, Miles is right over there, see? But before you go, I got to tell you one more thing. OK? See, God's got this girlfriend, and, well, she, likes to sing. Dig?
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How can you tell the trombone player's kid on the playground?
He can use the slide but can't swing.
--

-MIKE-

"Playing is not something I do at night, it's my function in life"
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On 2/15/10 2:29 PM, Swingman wrote:

About the 5th version of that joke I've run across and they are all great. :-)
--

-MIKE-

"Playing is not something I do at night, it's my function in life"
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