A drunk man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway seat 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?
My Son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much
alcohol and a contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and
lack of bath.
Well, I'll be damned, the drunk muttered, returning 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
I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.

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