The New Priest
Father O’Malley, the new priest is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks the older priest to sit in on his sessions. The new priest hears a couple of confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions.
The old priest suggests, “Cross you arms over your chest, and rub your chin with one hand.” The new priest tries this.
The old priest suggests, “Try saying things like, ‘I see, yes, go on, I understand and how did you feel about that?” The new priest says those things.
The old priest says, “Now, don’t you think that’s a little better than slapping your knee and saying ‘No shit! What happened next”
Irish in Olympics
An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman were without tickets for the opening ceremonies of the Olympics but hoped to be able to talk their way in at the gate. Security was very tight, however, and each of their attempts was met with a stern refusal.
While wandering around outside the stadium, the Englishman came upon construction site, which gave him an idea. Grabbing a length of scaffolding, he presented himself at the gate and said, “Johnson, the pole vault,” and was admitted.
The Scotsman, overhearing this, went at once to search the site. When he came up with a sledge hammer, he presented himself at the gate and said, “McTavish, the hammer.” He was also admitted.
The Irishman combed the site for an hour and was nearly ready to give up when he spotted his ticket in. Seizing a roll of barbed wire, he presented himself at the gate and announced, “O’Sullivan, fencing.”
An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut. The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest’s breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car. He says, “Sir, have you been drinking?”
“Just water,” says the priest. The trooper says, “Then why do I smell wine?”
The priest looks at the bottle and says, “Good Lord! He’s done it again!”
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.”
Murphy was 77 years old and had worked 80 hours a week all his life and never had a holiday. His children were all married and his wife had died. He decided to enjoy life. He had a face lift, got a new expensive toupee, bought ten new suits and a brand new car.
One evening he got all dressed up in a new suit, new tie, put on his toupee, and got into his new car and drove off towards Dublin. He was only gone a mile when he was killed in an accident.
On arrival in heaven, he walked over to St. Peter and said, “What’s going on here? All my life I worked hard, and finally, when I had everything in place to enjoy myself, I was killed. Why? Why did you let it happen?”
St. Peter ducked his head in embarrassment and said, “Well, to tell you the truth I didn’t recognize you.”