The Sick Irishman
Mime-Version: 1.0 (NeXT Mail 3.3 v118.2)
From: Peter Langston <psl>
Date: Tue, 19 Jan 99 18:32:08 -0800
Subject: The Sick Irishman
Forwarded-by: chuck@NYC.Thinkbank.COM (Chuck Ocheret)
An Irishman named O'Malley was at his doctor. The doctor, after a
lengthy examination, sighed and looked O'Malley in the eye, "I have bad
news. You have cancer, and it can't be cured. I'd give you two to four weeks
to live," O'Malley was shocked. He managed to compose himself and walk from
the doctor's office into the waiting room, where his son was waiting.
O'Malley said, "Well son. We Irish celebrate when things are good, and we
celebrate when things don't go so well. In this case, things aren't so well.
I have cancer, and I've been given a short time to live. Let's head for the
pub and have a few pints."
After 3 or 4 pints, the two were feeling a little less somber. There
were some laughs and more beers. They were eventually approached by some
of O'Malley's old friends who asked what the two were celebrating. O'Malley
told them that the Irish celebrate the good and the bad. He went on to tell
them that they were drinking to his impending end. He told his friends,
"I've only got a few weeks to live; I have been diagnosed with AIDS."
The friends gave O'Malley their condolences, and they had a couple more
beers. After his friends left, O'Malley's son leaned over and whispered,
"Dad. I though you said that you were dying from cancer? You just told your
friends that you were dying from AIDS!" O'Malley said, "I am dying of
cancer, son. I just don't want any of them sleeping with your mother after
© 1999 Peter Langston