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Humor
James Bond: No Time For An OSHA Inspection
I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Bond, for the last thirty minutes.
Thank you for meeting me today, Mr. Bond. I know you’re a busy man when you’re not lounging around in a tropical paradise or pursuing women half your age.
No, I don’t expect you to talk, Mr. Bond. I don’t know why you keep saying that. I expect you to follow the rules and regulations mandated by the Occupational Safety and Health Administration.
Two words, Mr. Bond: ear protection. Your hearing is your most precious possession.
Yes, your daughter is precious too. But you can grow another daughter. You can’t grow another eardrum.
Now, we’ll just take a short tour of this evil lair before I have to leave for my next appointment. It’s someplace called Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. We’ve gotten reports of undocumented laborers who are orange, possibly from chemical exposure without proper PPE, and a river of chocolate. That’s definitely a scalding hazard.
What’s this, a swimming pool? Oh, it’s a giant lake of acid. How many people would you say have been dissolved in this lake of acid: zero to 10, 10 to 100, or more than 100?
