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 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 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 after I'm gone."