A useless guide for the... dim lights to attracting moths (I'm not sure)

Three men walk into a bar, except that it is not okay now to have only men; women should be represented. It would be more balanced to make a joke about being in a bar and a lady who promises is a gentleman, although the less divisive path is to say there a person which claims to be the opposite sex to make it equal-gender and neutral. Such terrible inception for a prematurely dead joke, but hey, at least it's inclusive. All this so that people with no sense of humour would stop yelling that it is not funny. Like saying something dumb so that the stupid can also acknowledge it to be intelligent. And just like the LGBTQSUF is going to run out of letters soon, humour is going to run out of audiences. Sudden laughter will need to be carefully evaluated before bursting and spontaneous quips should be compiled in a list that is thoroughly checked by people who have no sense of humour. And guess who thrives in such barren circumstances? Funny (sorry) you should mention it, but there is this guy at work that could limbo flawlessly below the low bar held by the unfortunate cocktails of words, mime and utterances that crack priests, corporate people and other people to from the bottom of the dull barrel into spontaneous laughter. Or, to put it on a more cheery note, the rat feasting during the plagued times of intellectual atrophy.
If knowing your audience is key, he should refrain even from attempting to entertain brighter pets or even some of the more intellectually-endowed pieces furniture (like a smart-fridge that sets to defrost whenever you put a cake in) that are stand on a higher rung where his brain cannot climb. But just like moths around light, he cannot help himself from stampeding at even the faintest flicker, away from his more suitable environment: the pitch dark of switched-off minds. Which means not even the canteen could provide haven during my feeble attempts to take refuge from his spewed broadcast in the open space. Some would call it fate that he happens to take his coffee breaks whenever I'm on a coffee break myself, but as I do not believe in fate, I would rather say it's the fact that I'm always on coffee breaks.
Maybe it is time to take a better look at myself and identify one of genders that entitle me to use bathrooms he should not be allowed to go to. Just like the white clouds of heaven, an immaculate white haven for me right here on earth (second hallway on the left after the elevators, if you're curious). Well, not quite immaculate, but at least white. Mostly white. It's ironical how the most handicapped people use the lavatory for the disabled, even though theirs is the only handicap that does not qualify them to use a lavatory for the disabled. They should be restricted to the filthy corner in the cage of their inconsiderate minds (that's also second hallway on the left once you exit the elevator, but first you need to take the elevator all the way to the basement, near the garages where they park their expensive company BMW's).
Another thing I could do is... well, screw it, I'm tired of being pompous and pretentious. I'll get a coffee across the street. Call me if there's an emergency, I find the missed calls notifications soothing.
Handle it with funny-boy, you referred him just so you can get a new phone.