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 got some bad news for
you...you have the 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
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, "I am dying from cancer son, I just don't
want any of them sleeping with your mother."