By the late Norm Macdonald:
A moth goes into a podiatrist's office.
"What's wrong?" asks the podiatrist.
The moth replies:
Doc, I hate my career.
My marriage is failing.
My family is exhausting.
My relationships with my children are terrible.
Sometimes it's all too much to bear. I don't know where to turn.
"You need help," replies the doctor. "But you need a psychiatrist, not a podiatrist. Why did you come here?"
"Because," the moth replies. "The light was on."
A moth goes into a podiatrist's office.
"What's wrong?" asks the podiatrist.
The moth replies:
Doc, I hate my career.
My marriage is failing.
My family is exhausting.
My relationships with my children are terrible.
Sometimes it's all too much to bear. I don't know where to turn.
"You need help," replies the doctor. "But you need a psychiatrist, not a podiatrist. Why did you come here?"
"Because," the moth replies. "The light was on."