A drunken 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 whiskey 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 and a contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with call girls and lack of bathing.”
The drunk muttered his 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.”