An old blind cowboy stumbles into a bar without realizing it’s an all-female biker hangout. He moseys up to the counter, finds a stool by bumping into it, and orders a Jack Daniels like he owns the place. After a few sips, he suddenly calls out, “Hey, any of y’all wanna hear a blonde joke?”
Instant silence. You could hear a pin drop… or a Harley engine stall.
Then a low, gravelly voice right next to him says, “Listen up, Cowboy. Since you’re blind, I’ll give you a heads-up before you step in it. The bartender’s a blonde—and she’s got a baseball bat. The bouncer? Also blonde—carries a billy club and doesn’t believe in warnings. Me? I’m a six-foot-tall blonde with a black belt in karate. The gal to my left is a blonde who can deadlift a truck. And the one to your right? A blonde pro wrestler who once choked out a grizzly.”
She leans in. “So now… you still wanna tell that blonde joke?”
The cowboy thinks for a moment and replies, “…Not if I gotta explain it five times.”
