Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!

So a C, an E-flat and a G walk into a bar...

Whoever wrote this: Thank you.

So a C, an E-flat and a G walk into a bar. The bartender says, "sorry, but we don't serve minors." So E-flat leaves, and C and G have an open fifth between them. After a few drinks, the fifth is diminished and G is out flat. F comes in and tries to augment the situation, but is not sharp enough.

A D comes in and heads for the bathroom saying, "Excuse me. I'll just be a second." Then A comes in, but the bartender is not convinced that this relative of C is not a minor. Then the bartender notices B-flat hiding at the end of the bar and says, "Get out! You're the seventh minor I've found in this bar tonight."

E-Flat comes back the next night in a three-piece suit with nicely shined shoes. The bartender says, "you're looking sharp tonight. Come on in, this could be a major development." Sure enough, E-flat soon takes off his suit and everything else, and is au natural. Eventually, C, who had passed out under the bar the night before, begins to sober up and realizes in horror that he's under a rest.

So, C goes to trial, is convicted of contributing to the diminution of a minor and sentenced to 10 years of DS without Coda at an up scale correctional facility. The conviction is overturned on appeal, however, and C is found innocent of any wrongdoing, even accidental, and that all accusations to the contrary are bassless.

The bartender decides, however, that since he's only had tenor so patrons, the soprano out in the bathroom and everything has become alto much treble, he needs a rest and closes the bar.

I sent this to my mom, and here's what she sent back:

But here is the rest of the story:

C-sharp never was the sharpest note in the upscale bar. He heard he could B-flat in another bar where every note-worthy note was flat. So he waltzed over there in triple time. And since he was a triplet, he called his brothers to come. Well it wasn't long until he saw that he was baroque and the staff of the bar kicked him out. He realized there was no more harmony in that bar, so after he and his brothers had a fifth between them, they found that their tone was quit slurred, so rushed home to settle in for the night among the sheets.

And the moral of this story is...if you don't know whether to be sharp or flat, just hum any little tune -- its more natural that way!!


I love her.

The National Ignition Facility & Their Itty Bitty Wittle Star

Journalism in the age of data