THE SICK IRISHMAN
> An Irishman named Murphy went to his doctor after a long illness. > The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked Murphy in the > eye and said, "I've some bad news for you. You have cancer and it > can't be cured. I'd give you two weeks to a month." > > Murphy shocked and saddened by the news, but of solid character, > managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor's office into > the waiting room. There he saw his son who had been waiting. > > Murphy said, "My son, we Irish celebrate when things are good and > 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 three or four pints the two were feeling a little less somber. > > There were some laughs and more beers. They were eventually > approached by some of Murphy's old friends who asked what the two > were celebrating. > > Murphy 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 as I have been > diagnosed with AIDS." The friends gave Murphy their condolences and > they had a couple more beers. > > After his friends left, Murphy's son leaned over and whispered his > confusion. "Dad I thought you said that you were dying from cancer? > You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS?" > > Murphy said, " Sure, and I AM dying from cancer my son. I just don't >want >any > of those bastards sleeping with your mother after I'm gone."