A man who smelled like a distillery seat next to a
priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered 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 disheveled guy 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 had 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."
