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, "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, "Dad, I
thought you said that you were dying from cancer. You just told your friends
that you were dying from AIDS!"
Murphy said,"I am dying from cancer, son, I just don't want any of them
sleeping with your mother after I'm gone."