A blonde wanted to go ice fishing. She’d seen many books on the subject, and finally, after getting all the necessary “tools” together, she made for the nearest frozen lake.

After positioning her comfy footstool, she started to make a circular cut in the ice. Suddenly–from the sky–a voice boomed, “THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!”

Startled, the blonde moved further down the ice, poured a thermos of cappuccino, and began to cut yet another hole.

Again, from the heavens, the voice bellowed, “THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!”

The Blond, now quite worried, moved way down to the opposite end of the ice, set up her stool, and tried again to cut her hole.

The voice came once more. “THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!”

She stopped, looked skyward, and said, “Is that you, Lord?”

The voice replied, “No, this is the Manager of the Ice Rink!”