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A drunk man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway seat next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face covered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading.
After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, "Say, Father, what causes arthritis?"
"My son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, and a contempt for your fellow man."
"Well, I'll be damned," the drunk muttered, returning to his paper.
The priest thinking about what he said, nudged the man and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?"
"I don't have it Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."
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Four blessings upon my fellow planeteers: Older whiskey, younger women, faster horses, and more money.
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