Don't Bury the Survivors

Murphy has his son take him to the doctor, where he discovers he has cancer -- and not long to live. "Let's just go to the tavern and hoist a few pints," says Murphy.

After three or four pints the two were feeling better. There were some laughs and some more beers. They eventually were approached by a couple of Murphy's old pals, who asked what the two were celebrating.

"Ah," Murphy says, "you know the Irish -- celebrate both the good and the bad. The truth is, me boys, that I am dying of the AIDS." His pals give him their condolences and return to their seats.

After his friends left, Murphy's son leaned over and whispered his confusion. "Dad, I thought you told me you were dying of cancer. And you told them you are dying of AIDS."

Murphy says, "I am dying of cancer, son. I just don't want any of them sleeping with your mother."

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If I keep on walking around, I can save on funeral expenses.

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"Where else but in America could a poor black boy like Michael Jackson grow up to be a rich white woman?" --Red Buttons.

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My favorite word today is problems. N., I'll huff and I'll puff. Def.: Why you need solutions.