A Pirate Walked into a Bar

A pirate walked into a bar, and the publican said, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What happened? You look terrible."

"What do you mean?" said the pirate, "I feel fine."

"What about the wooden leg? You didn't have that before." "Well," said the pirate, "we were in a battle, and I got hit with a cannon ball, but I'm fine now."

The publican replied, "Well, OK, but what about that hook? What happened to your hand?"

The pirate explained, "We were in another battle. I boarded a ship and got into a sword fight. My hand was cut off. I got fitted with a hook but I'm fine, really."

"What about that eye patch?"

"Oh," said the pirate, "one day we were at sea, and a flock of birds flew over. I looked up, and one of them s hit in my eye."

"You're kidding," said the publican. "You couldn't lose an eye just from bird shit."

"It was my first day with the hook."

What causes arthritis?

A drunk man who smelled of liquor sat down on a subway 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 man turned to the priest and asked, "Say Father, what causes arthritis?"

The priest replied, "My Son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of a bath."

The drunk muttered in response, "Well, I'll be damned”, then returned 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?"

The drunk answered, "I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."

Fear

Ever since I was a child, I've had a fear of someone under my bed at night. So I went to a shrink and told him, "I've got problems. Every time I go to bed I think there's somebody under it. I'm scared. I think I'm going crazy."

"Just put yourself in my hands for one year", said the shrink. "Come talk to me three times a week and we should be able to get rid of those fears."

"How much do you charge?"

"Eighty dollars per visit", replied the doctor.

"I'll sleep on it", I said.

Six months later the doctor met me on the street. "Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were having?", he asked.

"Well, eighty bucks a visit, three times a week for a year, is $12,480.00. A bartender cured me for $10.00. I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought me a new pickup truck."

"Is that so?", he said with a bit of an attitude. "And how, may I ask, did a bartender cure you?"

"He told me to cut the legs off the bed. Ain't nobody under there now."

FORGET THE SHRINK...

HAVE A DRINK & TALK TO A BARTENDER!