October 23, 2007

Business Travel

I'm on the road again, traveling from Orlando to Gulfport to Sacramento (via Houston) in support of the business of supporting business. Business travel is never what you expect or want. The first leg of the trip was fairly uneventful, even the pleasant surprise of being put into First Class for one of the flights. That was made up for by the 90 minute delay in getting out of Atlanta and into Mississippi. Not a big deal since all I planned to do upon arriving was get some sleep.

But getting out of Gulfport and into Sacramento, that was a challenge. In support of the business need, I booked a very early flight. This 6:15 flight (for which I got up at 4:30) was canceled. While knowledge of this would have been valuable at 4:29, it was not worth a hill of beans at 5:30.

Of course I was greeted with the standard affectionate pat-down by Gulfport TSA and the thorough dismantling of my bags. I guess I am fortunate that I was not rushing to make a 6:15 flight at the time. But that's life on the Watch List.

The resolution for my troubles was a 9:00 AM flight with a 4 hour layover in Houston. Four hours is a long layover.....it is painfully long in Houston. Especially when one considers that my accommodations in Gulfport were in a casino hotel. Not only did I enjoy some fine camaraderie with co-workers, I followed that up by sampling both the free drinks and casino atmosphere until an hour that was sure to make today just a bit drowsey.

As much as I would like to catch up on some sleep here in Houston, the constant announcements (in both English and Spanish) make it impossible to rest.

Well, I can always catch up on sleep on the plane......

August 21, 2007

The Tooth Fairy

My 7 year old son is now in prime tooth fairy territory. He has lost 6 teeth this summer and is going gang-busters towards breaking the bank. But as the third son, I am always worried that he will end his belief in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy before his time. He has that sparkle in his eye that leads me to believe that he is mature beyond his years. So I am on my guard to protect his innocence.

Adam lost his 6th tooth on Monday of this week, the first day of school. He proudly brought it home from class ready to stow it for the tooth fairy to collect. But he appeared to have been the subject of some teasing at school, most likely the type of laughter that wiser children share when they have crossed-over to non-believer status. At bedtime last night, he would not say where he placed his tooth. After much prodding he merely shook his head in agreement when asked if it were placed under his pillow.

Later that night, the tooth fairy stealthily crept into his room. With two dollar bill in hand (I am the twooth fairy, afterall) I probed under the pillow.....nothing there. I carefully checked under his other pillow, still coming up empty. There, on the back wall, a foot out of reach was the tooth pillow (twooth pillow?) that Grandma made a few years back. Did I mention that Adam sleeps on the top bunk? His older brother prefers the quick escape that a lower berth offers so the little guy has cheerfully accepted the high ground.

Mrs. Tooth Fairy suggest getting a stool. The pillow was still out of reach. I secured a wire hanger (not an easy task as they all seem to be quickly returned to the dry-cleaner in favor of the plastic variety) and straightened it out in order to hook the small pillow. I finally had it, but to no avail, there was no tooth to be found.

It was coming up on 1AM at this point and I was ready to surrender the loot without finding the booty. But the Mrs. said no way, this was not allowed. The conspiracy theorist in me started to think, "Wait a minute, he didn't want to tell us where he put the tooth. He's testing to see if there really is a tooth fairy. I'll bet he hid it some place out of the ordinary." Back to the room I crept, with blue filtered flashlight in hand. Nothing on the dressers, nothing in the drawers....I looked down under toys and then I saw it! Under the dresser was a small plastic box. Upon opening it I found the treasure. Ah-Ha!! No 7 year old is going to outsmart me!!

I removed the tooth and folded up the bill until if fit in the box. I carefully replaced it where it was discovered and off to bed I went as proud as a middle-aged father of three could be.

In the morning the Mrs. asked Adam if the tooth fairy visited. He said that there was nothing under his pillow, no tooth, no money. He was a bit puzzled....Of course then it dawned on me that there was no conspiracy, he was still a firm believer - or at least not foolish enough to give up on something that guaranteed him a couple of bucks for each loose tooth.

We convinced him to look around, behind the bed, and on the floor, "Maybe you knocked it on the floor during the night," Said the Mrs., looking at me like only a wife can. "Or maybe the tooth fairy is a crazy conspiracy nut," I thought to myself.

After a bit of prodding, we steered him to look under the dresser. Sure enough, this was the first time his little hand had ventured under there. But he happily collected his prize, armed for another day at school with another wondrous tale.

So once again, I succeeded in outsmarting myself. When will I learn.....?

I wonder if I will be able to outsmart him when he is actually trying to outsmart me???

August 3, 2007

Sacramento Nights


Marilyn’s is a neat little bar tucked away under the sidewalks of downtown Sacramento. On the night of my visit they featured the Bobby Zoppi Band, with the charismatic Bobby Zoppi on lead vocals. I could tell immediately that Bobby had the type of following that would lead to an interesting night. For Mr. Zoppi had an entourage of fans that would make Tom Jones jealous. The bar was not crowded when he arrived, and certainly was not crowded afterwards, but the view improved quite dramatically. I was of course curious why so many attractive young ladies surrounded him as if he were the second coming of Elvis. So, being the inquisitive type I am, I asked a couple of the older groupies what the deal was. Apparently, Mr. Zoppi is a local voice coach of some renown. A quick check of the Internet (ain’t Blackberry grand?) confirmed the “local” designation….

It was apparent to me, and remarkable nobody else, that Bobby pretty much only coached good looking young women. I have no problem with his choice of students and pretty much suggest that single guys throughout the Sacramento metropolitan area show up wherever Mr. Zoppi’s band performs. Of course some of the fans of the Zoppi Band thought that I was making a rush to judgement. I probably was, but I can’t afford to hang around town for additional research.

Anyway, this has to get more interesting in a hurry or I will be the only one to have read this post.

The crowd consisted of several stand out personalities. First, there was Molly. She was a buxom blonde happy to speak with anyone but obviously trying to catch the eye (and hopefully other anatomical features) of Bobby. Molly was currently selling hair care products. This in itself is not interesting, of course, but is important to the story….trust me. While awaiting the start of the BZ Band (a much better name if Bobby’s ego will accept it) Molly was hit on by a 50ish gentleman next to me (Honest, he was next to me…there is no way I would attempt the extremely lame lines he was about to lay on Molly). The lines were comical….and probably not new to good looking young females. This gentleman was with a Headstart Conference (Yes, these are the people we entrust our disadvantaged youth to….) Mr. Head grabbed young Molly’s hand and said, “I have been here for 3 days and you are the most beautiful thing I have seen yet.” Now, from a 22 year old college student, this is probably an acceptable line. But once your grey temples are meeting in the middle of your skull, it’s really time to drop this crap….

Molly, showing her innate intelligence, was immediately intrigued. Mr. Head’s next line was to suggest that Molly looked remarkably like his second wife. (Okay ladies, if you don’t see this one coming, you don’t get out much….) Molly asked, “So what, are you on your fourth wife now?” To which Mr. Head replied, (All in unison please), “No, I’m with my first wife now.” Young Molly predictably giggled. Soon, Mr. Head’s wife appeared. She was a very smart woman and knew her husband very well. She immediately introduced herself to young Molly with, “Hi honey. So has he asked you to become his second wife yet?” Inexplicably, I was the only to laugh….. Molly, showing great insight and more intelligence than I gave her credit for, said to Mr. Head, “I think I’m going to be her second wife since she is going to end up with the house, the car, and all the money.”

So, Mr. and Mrs. Head soon left the bar with the other Headstarters, looking to spend our tax dollars on other entertainment venues. Left behind was a young Head who had no idea that our Miss Molly was actually looking at him during her entire encounter with Mr. Head. Young Head was on his cell phone during the flirtation but was intelligent enough to realize that he suddenly was given an opportunity to impress a young lady. His attempt was not nearly as lame, but just as entertaining. He discovered that Miss Molly sold hair care products. Now this old fart would have considered such a line of work by a young lady as being nothing of interest to a young male. But Young Head, much like others in his peer group put more stuff in his hair every day than I have done in my entire life. They had a wonderful conversation about gels, mouse, and other additives that I have only heard of from my older sisters, and proceeded to get her cell number so that he could meet tomorrow to purchase hair care products!!! I wanted to congratulate him on his guile for such a scheme to gain her number. But he really, REALLY wanted the discount hair products….What the hell has become of America’s youth!!!!

He did make me feel a bit better when after she left the area he said that he hoped that if he bought enough, she would feel guilty enough to let him buy her dinner….Whew!! I thought his metro-sexual nature was forever dooming mankind….He soon left the premises, following the other Headstarters to another bar.

Shortly afterward, the Bobby Zoppi band took the stage. Just prior to that, at least 16 very attractive young ladies (lead by Miss Molly) moved tables and chairs to within about 3 feet of the stage. At this point, two of the attractive women who were earlier speaking with Bobby sat at the bar next to where I was standing. They were cordial, friendly, and realized fairly quickly that I was not going to “hit” on them. We had a few laughs at the expense of the “fans” and they filled me in a bit on Bobby being a local voice coach. Since one of these ladies was obviously BZ’s main squeeze, I did not share my observation that Bobby seemed to only coach hot young women. My impression is that Bobby’s woman is well aware of this since she was not stupid. I also found out that her friend was one of his students and was quite aware of his discriminatory student selection but was mature enough to use it to her advantage.

The music was very good. The BZ Band (guitarist, percussion, and Bobby) was tight and professional. Bobby has a great voice, as a voice coach should. His students swooned with every song. Molly (remember her?) liked to dance. Bobby’s music is not really dance music, but that didn’t stop Molly. Oh, did I mention that Molly didn’t dance alone? Molly had a dance partner. Molly’s dance partner was not as discreet as one would expect in a heterosexual bar. Did I forget to mention that Molly’s dance partner was female? It was quite entertaining. Mostly because I could envision Mr. Head and Young Head spending a lot of money on hair care products the next day expecting to entice young Molly into some sore of Penthouse Forum escapade.

Near the end the band’s first set I made the poor choice of being courteous to a gentleman who was lurking near the bar. I was enjoying my conversation with Bobby’s S.O. and friend when I offered this gentleman the opportunity to squeeze in to get a drink. He was grateful. He ordered Sambuca with coffee beans. The bartender, a cute blonde named Stephanie, smiled, acknowledged his order and went off to mix his drink. She made an abrupt about-face to tell him that they only had ground coffee….He advised her that he would skip the coffee additive.

Silly me; I expected him to get his drink and politely move away…..He didn’t….he snaked me, and basically took my spot. I, being too damned nice, and too damned married, figured what difference did it make. He began to hit on Bobby’s woman….and he was not nearly as amusing as Mr. Head. Bobby’s woman was polite but left rather quickly. This left the student and Mr. Sambuca in close proximity. He spoke to her briefly, but didn’t finish his sentence before she up and left. I was about to congratulate him on his smooth style and winning personality (“Real smooth Sambuca!” was my planned comment) but my olfactory senses stopped me….Something did not smell quite right. I realized fairly quickly that it wasn’t me. I also realized that there was nobody else at this part of the bar besides me and Mr. Sambuca.
Damn, this was such a sweet section of bar….I couldn’t just leave it, could I???? I hung in for a few minutes….It was harsh….The BZ band finished their set and I decided to walk outside in hopes that Mr. Sambuca would take a hint and move on….fat chance….I came back after about 10 minutes and inexplicably, in a well populated bar, there was an 8 foot section, directly in front of the band where only Mr. Sambuca stood alone.

I sought shelter at the other end of the bar. Stephanie, to either her credit or her blondeness, ignored the situation and got me another drink. I thought for sure that once Mr. Sambuca finished his drink he would leave….Alas, he finished and ordered an Amaretto on the rocks…

The BZ Band began their second set. Molly and her friend began to dance again…almost obscenely this time….a good 30 feet away instead of 10….Mr Sambuca-Amaretto was oblivious as he sang along to an obscure country song that Bobby included in his set in honor of his father.

I surrendered….there was no point in hanging around….I left the bar wondering if Mr. Sambuca-Amaretto had kids and who would teach them proper bar etiquette, how to drink like an American male, and the value of a good deodorant….

March 15, 2007

Day 15

It’s so close now I can taste it….and it tastes smooth, smoky, and robust, not too grainy, and it warms the body all the way down….and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to put a little splash of it in my coffee this morning…

They were friendly enemies. Both were pub keepers. And they never missed a chance to put something over on one another. Came election time and Mike was trying to get Pat to vote for him for alderman.
"I wouldn't vote for you if you were St. Peter himself," Pat announced.
Mike said, "If I were St. Peter you wouldn't be in my ward!"
The room was full of pregnant women with their partners. The Lamaze class was in full swing. The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe properly, and was telling the men how to give the necessary assurances to their partners at this stage of the pregnancy.
She said: "Ladies, remember that exercise is GOOD for you. Walking is especially beneficial. It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier!"
She looked at the men in the room. "And gentlemen, remember. You're in this together. It wouldn't hurt you to go walking with your partner."
The room suddenly got very quiet as the men absorbed this information. Then Murphy at the back of the room slowly raised his hand. “Yes?" answered the teacher.
"I was just wondering," Murphy said. "Is it all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?"
The Irishman was crossing the street on a dark, cold, windy, miserable night. Oh, it was a horrible night, I tell you. Crossing the street and the rain was pouring and the wind was blowing, it was terrible. And in the darkness a car came along and gave an awful shot and down he went in the mud.
And he was lying there and a big crowd gathered and a policeman came along.
He kneeled down alongside of him and said, "Can I do anything for you, sir?"
And he said, "Yes." He said, "Would you mind calling me a rabbi?"
And the policeman said, "You must be delirious, man. You must mean a priest, don't you?"
He said, "No, no, call me a rabbi. I wouldn't get the good father out on a night like this."
Dr. Haggerty had a way of testing his patients about his diagnoses. When he was once consulted by a man who thought he was going deaf, the good doctor told him,
"This is a case of excessive nervousness showing it psychosomatic form of deafness. Now I happen to know that gambling, alcohol and sex stimulate a majority of people.
"Ah, now, what are you drivin' at, doc?"
"You'll have to," said Dr. Haggerty, "give up poker, whiskey and sex."
"Are you crazy, doctor," bellowed the patient. "Just for a little hearing??"
An American and an Irishman were enjoying a ride in the country when they came upon an unusual sight - an old gallows. The American thought he would have a joke on his Irish companion.
"You see that, I reckon," said he to the Irishman, pointing to the gallows. "And now where would you be if the gallows had its due?"
"Riding alone," coolly replied Paddy.
Murphy and his wife, a middle-aged couple, went for a stroll in the park. They say down on a bench to rest. They overheard voices coming from a secluded spot. Suddenly Mrs. Murphy realized that a young man was about to propose. Not wanting to eavesdrop at such an intimate moment, she nudged her husband and whispered,
"Whistle and let that young couple know that someone can hear them."
Murphy said, "Whistle? Why should I whistle? Nobody whistled to warn me."

March 14, 2007

Day 14

What defines the Irish? Love. Don’t laugh, well, go ahead an laugh, that’s the purpose of these epistles. But love does define the Irish, our love of a good story, love of a strong drink, and a genuine love for life. And if you think about those 3 things, you have the makings for a darned good party…..

This young Dublin fella comes home all excited to tell his ma he's fallen in love and going to get married.
He says: "Just for fun, Ma, I'm going to bring over three women and you just try and guess which one I'm going to marry."
The mother agrees, so the next day he brings along three beautiful and sits them down on the couch and they chat away for a while.
He then says: "Right, OK Ma, guess which one I'm going to marry."
She immediately replies, "The one in the middle."
"That's amazing, Ma. You're right. How did ye know?"
"I don't like her."


Three old ladies met on the street on a very stormy day. The wind was so strong and loud that they had difficulty in hearing each other.
"It's windy," said one.
"No, it's Thursday," said the next.
"So am I," said the third. "Let's go and have a drink!"


There is an Old Irish couple, Margaret and Patty. Margaret walks into the living room where Patty is and says,
"Patrick, oh I am so proud of you, so proud. Last month, I told you that you were spending too much time at the pub and too much time away from me. Since then you haven't gone to the pub once and stayed home. I want to do something special for ya, I want to make ya a special dinner, special indeed."
Patty replied, "Oh Margaret, you don't have to do that, don't trouble yourself."
"No, it's no trouble" Margaret insisted, "In fact, when we were on holiday last year, you really enjoyed that Escargot. You go to the store and get them snails and I'll make 'em up for ya."
Patty got excited, "Oh, that would be wonderful!! Okay, okay, I'll go right away."
So Patty goes to the store to get the snails, but has to pass the pub on the way.
As he passes, everyone in the pub starts yelling, "Hey Patty!! Where ya been, Boy? Come on in and let me buy ya a pint!!!
Patty refuses, "No, no, no, no. I've got to get to the store.........No, I've got to go."
They keep it up, "C'mon Patty, just one, let me buy ya one!"
Patty answers, “No, no, no, I've got to go.”
Patty makes it to the store and gets the snails. Well on his way back he has to go past the pub once again, they start in again,
"Hey Patty!! Come on in and let me buy ya a pint!!!
Patty answers, "No, no, no, no. I've got to get home.........No, I've got to go.
They beg, "C'mon boy, just one."
Patty responds, "No, I've got to go. I've got..........Well..........Just one."
It's 11:00 pm when Patty looks down on his watch.
"Oh No!! I've got to go!!"
Patty starts running home, he gets to the gate and flings it open and then trips and the snails go flying everywhere. Margaret hears the ruckus and comes out and yells,
"Patty! It's after 11:00! What took ya so long?!? Where ya been?!?"
Patty looks up at Margaret, looks down and sees the snails spread out everywhere, gets up, waves and exclaims, "Come on Boys, keep it going! WE'RE ALMOST THERE!!!"


March 13, 2007

Day 13

On this, the 13th day of the month, what more appropriate topic than the Luck O’ the Irish. As Ireland appears to be a poor county, many would ask, “What luck?” And even some of the Irish themselves feel that this supposed luck is all bad….But it’s all in how you look at it. Hey, even if something unfortunate may happen to you, feel lucky that you now have a wonderful story to share with your friends……

The innocent old lady had a huge bottle with her as she passed through the Irish Customs.
"What have you there?" asked the Customs man with suspicion.
"'Tis Lourdes water, I'm bringing home with me."
He took the bottle, tried some and spluttered.
"Let me tell you," he said, "that's not Lourdes water. That's first-class French brandy."
"Lord bless us," she said. "It's a miracle!"


A man walks out of a house in Belfast. Another man walks up to him and sticks a gun to his head saying, "Are you a Protestant or a Catholic?"
The first man, not knowing how to reply for fear of being shot if he says the wrong thing, thinks for a minute and finally answers, "As a matter of fact, I'm Jewish."
At which the gunman chuckles, "Boy, I must be the luckiest Arab in Belfast tonight."


Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn't find a parking place. Looking up to heaven he said, "Lord take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish Whiskey".
Miraculously, a parking place appeared. Paddy looked up again and said, "Never mind, I found one."


The Boston taxi driver backed into the stationary fruit stall and within seconds he had a cop beside him.
"Brendan O'Connor."
"Really, I’m O’Connor too. Where are you from?"
"County Cork."
"Same as me......"
The policeman paused with his pen in the air.
"Hold on a moment and I'll come back and talk about the old county. I want to say something to this fella that ran into the back of your cab."


Father Murphy met Casey in the street and Casey admired his new umbrella.
Father Murphy said, "Thank you, but I'm not sure I got it honestly. It started to rain the other day, and I stepped into a doorway to wait until it stopped. Then I saw a young fellow coming along with a nice large umbrella, and I thought that if he was going as far as my house, I'd ask him to share it with me. I stepped out from the doorway and said, 'Where are you going with that umbrella?' And he dropped the darned thing and ran."


An Englishman and an Irish man are driving head on, at night, on a twisty, dark road. Both are driving to fast for the conditions and collide on a sharp bend in the road. To the amazement of both, they are unscathed, though their cars are both destroyed. In celebration of their luck, both agree to put aside their dislike for the other from that moment on. At this point, the Irish man goes to the boot and fetches a 12 year old bottle of Jameson whiskey.
He hands the bottle to the Englishman, who say, ''May the English and the Irish live together forever, in peace, and harmony.''
The English man then tips the bottle and lashes half of it down. Still flabbergasted over the whole thing, he goes to hand the bottle to the Irishman, whom replies:
''No thanks, I'll just wait till the Garda get here!''

Day 12

Ahhh, the Irish. Even when things occur that make us look foolish, we are willing to share our experience to get a laugh and to make others benefit from our misfortune. For nothing is better than a good story. And if the story is good enough, it might be worthy of a free pint from your friends….

Ferguson the blacksmith came in with a badly-damaged foot. The doctor was surprised, for Ferguson was a careful man.
"What happened to you, Paddy?" he asked.
"Well, thirty-three years ago I was a young apprentice with Twomey of Ballinanaspickbuidhe......"
"But about your foot.....?"
"This is about me foot. Twomey had a daughter and your eyes could gaze on her like the way a bullock would eat good grass. The first night I was there she came in when I was in bed and asked if I was comfortable and if I wanted anything and I said I didn't. The next night she came in when I was in bed and she wearing her nightdress and she asked me if there was any single thing she could get me or do for me and I told her I was as comfortable as a bug in a rug. The next night she came in and the girl hadn't a thing on her and she asked me if she could do anything for me and not wanting to keep her standing in the cold and she without a shift I said there was nothing."
"What has that got to do with your foot, Ferguson?" asked the doctor impatiently.
"Sure it was only this morning that I finally thought of what she meant and I was so annoyed with meself that I threw me ten-pound hammer against the wall and it rebounded and broke me ankle."


A local Irisher was boasting about the grand party he and his pals had the night before.
"Aye," sez he, "Wasn't it a great night the five of us had."
"Who were the five?" asked a listener.
"Well," said the Irisher as he began counting on his fingers. "There was one, that's me. There was Clancy, that's two. There was the Quigley twins, that's three, and there was Sullivan, that's four."
"But you said there were five and you count only four."
"Jist a minute, let me count again,' replied the Irisher as he again began to pick off the number on his fingers. "There was one, that was me. Two, there was Clancy. Three, there was the Quigley twins, and four, there was Sullivan. Shure, I must have taken a wee drop too many, because last night I thought there was five of us at the party. Now I know there's only four."


Some years ago, Michael J. Flanagan, a successful New York contractor, was standing on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry when a car got loose and sent him into the river where he drowned.
The following Sunday his widow, all decked out in deepest black, was standing on the church steps after Mass, receiving condolences and enjoying every minute of it, when an old friend of the contractor came up. "I'm sorry, Mary, for your trouble," offered the friend. "Did Mike leave you well fixed?" "Oh, he did!" she said. "He left me almost a half million dollars." "Well now, that's not bad for a man who couldn't read or write." "Nor swim either," added the widow.


The ritual of the wake has not changed in a thousand years . . . They have the kitchen table, and they cover it with a white sheet and a silk pillow and they lay the remains out on the table and all the neighbors come in and pay their last respects. Such a man Iying there is Seamus O'Shaughnessy, passed on, deceased, gone over, demised, and he's stone dead as well. Just then two of the legs on the table caved in and O'Shaughnessy slid onto the floor. And Muldoon said, "My God, what are we going to do?"
Murphy said, "Well, we'll have to level him up somehow. We'll put his head on a chair, we'll put a chair at his feet, we push a chair in underneath him, lift him up and level him out."

Muldoon said, "A good idea! "
Murphy said, "Leave it to me." Murphy looked at the people at the wake and said, "Can we have three chairs for the corpse?"
And they all went, "Hip hip hooray! "

March 9, 2007

Day 9

Blarney – The Irish Wit. One of the things you may notice about the Irish is their ability to coin a phrase, or make that come back that leaves you wondering. This, is the gift of Blarney. It is described quite eloquently as the “Ability to tell a man to go to hell in such a fashion that he looks forward to the trip.” Here are some examples:

The American tourist in Dublin had been complaining a great deal about the food.
"Here," he said to the waitress holding out a piece of meat for inspection, "do you call that pig?"
"Which end of the fork, sir?" the waitress asked sweetly.
The origin of the bagpipes was being discussed and the representatives of different nations were eagerly disclaiming responsibility for the instrument.
Finally, and Irishman said, "Well, I'll tell you the truth about it. The Irish invented them and sold them to the Scots as a joke; and the Scots haven't seen the joke yet!"
Casey married a rich widow, but they didn't get along. One day she said to him, "If it wasn't for my money, that new television wouldn't be here. If it wasn't for my money, that grand piano wouldn't be here. If it wasn't for my money, this house wouldn't be here."
Casey mumbled, "If it wasn't for your money, I wouldn't be here."
Murphy won the Irish Sweepstakes $100,000.00 and was on a long holiday in America. He went on a bus tour and traveled for hours and hours through desert country and oil fields.
Murphy said, "Where are we now?"
The guide said, "We're in the great state of Texas."
"It's a big place," said Murphy.
The guide said, "It's so big, that your County Kerry would fit into the smallest corner of it."
And Murphy said, "Yes, and wouldn't it do wonders for it!"
Brendan Behan, late Irish author, was the soul of courtesy, but there were times when he could give back as good as he got.
Brendan and a friend were emerging from the Long Hall in Dublin during the Christmas season, and Brendan had the misfortune to bump into a lady laden with parcels, the result being to scatter her parcels all over the pavement.
Brendan promptly stooped to recover them from among the feet of the passers-by and restore them to her arms, but her ladyship's temper was not satisfied.
"I'd have you know," she declared angrily, "that my husband's a detective, and, if he was here, he'd take ye!"
This was too much for Brendan, who after all had done his best. "Ma'am," said he, "I don't doubt it for a second. If he took you, he'd take anything."
The attorney was cross examining Clancy, the coroner. The attorney asked, "Before you signed the death certificate had you taken the man's pulse?" The coroner said, "No."
The attorney then asked, "Did you listen for a heart beat?", and again the coroner said, "No."
Then the attorney asked, "Did you check for breathing?", and again the coroner said, "No."
"So when you signed the death certificate you had not taken any steps to make sure the man was dead, had you?"
Clancy, now tired of the brow beating said,
"Well, let me put it this way. The man's brain was sitting in a jar on my desk, but for all I know he could be out there practicing law somewhere."

March 8, 2007

Day 8

Today’s Topic – Drinking!! A lot of Irish humor surrounds incidents that occur during, after, or before imbibing. And while the “national pastime” of Ireland is official a game called hurling, the Irish culture and mystique comes from time spent in the public house.

The local District Judge had given the defendant a lecture on the evils of drink. But in view of the fact that this was the first time the man had been drunk and incapable, the case was dismissed on payment of ten shillings costs.
"Now don't let me ever see your face again," said the Justice sternly as the defendant turned to go.
"I'm afraid I can't promise that, sir," said the released man.
"And why not?"
"Because I'm the barman at your regular pub!"
Two oldsters living on their pension in Donegal would meet every day and walk to every saloon in town.
One day, one of them said, "I read in the papers that if all the saloons in Ireland were set end to end, they'd reach from Belfast to London."
"Oh," says the other, "what a walk."
McCuen stumbled out of a saloon right into the arms of Father Logan. "Inebriated again!" declared the priest. "Shame on you! When are you going to straighten out your life??"
"Father," asked McCuen. "What causes arthritis?"
"I'll tell you what causes it! Drinking cheap whiskey, gambling and carousing around with loose women. How long have you had arthritis?"
"I don't," slurred McCuen. "The Bishop has it!"
She followed her husband to the public house.
"How can you come here," she said, taking a sip of his pint of Guinness, "and drink that awful stuff?"
"Now!" he cried, "And you always said I was out enjoying meself."
One night a man and his wife are in bed when the man hears a knock on his door, so he gets up and opens it. Standing there is a very drunk guy who asks the homeowner to give him a push.
"What!" the homeowner yells in an angry voice and promptly slams the door in the drunk's face. He goes back upstairs and gets back in bed, and his wife asks him who it was.
"Just a guy wanting a push," the husband says.
"Why didn't you help him?" the woman asks.
"Because it's 3:30 in the morning!" the husband yells.
The wife, slightly angry now, says,
"Remember that time our car broke down and someone was nice enough to help us in the middle of
the night? I think you should help him."
Very grumpy now, the husband gets back up, gets dressed, and goes outside. Not seeing the man or his car, he yells out,
"Where are you? You said you wanted a push!"
The drunk calls out, "I'm over here!" Still not seeing the drunk, the husband yells out again,
"Over here, on your swing set!" the drunk yells back.
Here’s an historic note of great importance: The English word "Whiskey" comes from the Gaelic "uisce beatha" (pronounced ish-kuh ba-ha) which means "water of life." By the way, good whiskey is spelled with an “ey!”

March 7, 2007

Day 7

Today I feature some jokes about religion. While many cultures feel that it is taboo to joke about religion, that is not possible in Ireland. If you have ever met an Irish priest, you will quickly understand why. They epitomize the Irish traits with regards to story telling, generosity, and a willingness to laugh at themselves. Enjoy:

Timothy met the parish priest and said, "Father, wasn't it a lovely bazaar we had two weeks ago?" "It was grand," said the priest. Tim said, "Incidentally, those automobiles that we had for prizes, who won the Cadillac?" And the priest said, "It so happens Father Duffy won the Cadillac. Wasn't he lucky?"

Tim said, "That he was. And the Oldsmobile we had there? Who won the Oldsmobile?" The priest said, "Well, Monsignor Fogarty won the Oldsmobile. Wasn't he lucky?"

He said, "Yes, that he was. And the last car, the Plymouth, who won that?" The priest said, "Well, Bishop Donahue won that. Wasn't he lucky?" Then the priest said, "By the way, Timothy, how many chances did you take?"

He said, "I didn't take any. Wasn't I lucky!"


"And how much of that stack of hay did you steal, Kavanaugh?" the priest asked at confession.

"I might as well confess to the whole stack, your Reverence," said Kavanaugh. "I'm goin' after the rest of it tonight!"


Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and says to the first man he meets, "Do you want
to go to heaven?"
The man said, "I do Father."
The priest said, "Then stand over there against the wall."
Then the priest asked the second man, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
"Certainly, Father," was the man's reply.
"Then stand over there against the wall," said the priest.
Then Father Murphy walked up to O'Toole and said, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
O'Toole said, "No, I don't Father."
The priest said, "I don't believe this. You mean to tell me that when you die you don't want to go to heaven?"
O'Toole said, "Oh, when I die, yes. I thought you were getting a group together to go right now."


The good Father was warning his listeners about the suddenness of death. "Before another day is ended," he thundered, "somebody in this parish will die."
Seated in the front row was a little old Irishman who laughed out loud at this statement. Very angry, the priest said to the jovial old man, "What's so funny?"
"Well!" spoke up the oldster, "I'm not a member of this parish."


Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her 80s and had never been married. She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all. One afternoon the pastor came to call on her & she showed him into her quaint sitting room. She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea. As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister noticed a cut-glass bowl sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water and in the water floated, of all things, a condom! When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat.

The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist. "Miss Beatrice" he said "I wonder if you would tell me about this?" pointing to the bowl.

"Oh, yes" she replied "Isn't it wonderful? I was walking through the park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet, and that it would prevent the spread of disease. Do you know I haven't had the flu all Winter."

March 6, 2007

Day 6

Today’s theme is sports. Ireland is not the country that comes to mind when you think of athletics, and with good reason. With a love of talking and drinking who has time to engage in athletic competition. Still we admire a good fight and while many great athletes share Irish surnames (Jim Kelly, Shaquille O’Neal, Sugar Ray Robinson), it’s the love of the competition rather than the accolades that drives us.
Long ago, when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today, it's called golf.
Racehorse doping is not unknown in Ireland. One day, the Clerk of the Course spotted a trainer giving something to a horse just before the start of a race. He went over and said, "Doping?"
The trainer said, "Indeed not, Sor. 'Tis just lump sugar. Look, I'll take a bit meself.....see?"
The Clerk of the Course said, "Sorry, but we have to be careful. As a matter of fact, I like a bit of sugar meself."
So the trainer gave him a piece.
When the Clerk of the Course disappeared, the trainer gave his jockey his last minute instructions, "Don't forget the drill. Hold him in 'til the last four furlongs. Don't worry if anything passes ye, it'll be me or the Clerk of the Course!"
Paddy just arrived in America from Ireland on holiday. Now, never having seen a baseball game before, he decides that now would be a good time. So, he goes to the park, and gets himself a bleacher seat.
Now, Paddy sees a guy step up to the plate with a stick in his hand. The guy standing on the hump of dirt throws a ball at the guy with the stick, who then *crack* hits the ball and starts running down the side. Everyone around Paddy stands up and shouts "RUN! RUN LIKE HELL!"
A second guy steps up to the plate, and damn, if the guy on that hump of dirt doesn't throw that ball again. And again, the guy with the stick *crack* hits the ball and runs down the side. And again, everyone around Paddy again, stands and shouts "RUN! RUN LIKE HELL!"
Now, a third guy steps up to the plate with a stick in his hands. This time, when the guy on the hump of dirt throws the ball, the guy with the stick doesn't do anything. And the guy squatting behind the guy with the stick tosses the ball back to the guy on the hump of dirt. And Paddy is thinking to himself, "What's happening? Why didn't he hit the ball?" This happens three more times, with Paddy wondering more each time. After the fourth time, the guy with the stick drops the stick and strolls up the side. Now Paddy stands up and shouts "RUN! RUN LIKE HELL!" and the guy sitting next to Paddy says that he doesn't have to run. So Paddy asks him why, and is told that the batter has four balls.
So Paddy shouts instead, "WALK WITH PRIDE, MAN! WALK WITH PRIDE!"
Two friends Sean and Paddy were two of the biggest football fans in Ireland.
Their entire adult lives, Sean and Paddy discussed football history, and they pored over all the statistics. They went to all of the matches. They even agreed that whoever died first would try to come back and tell the other if there was football in heaven.
One summer night, Sean passed away in his sleep after watching a Manchester United victory earlier in the evening. He died happy. A few nights later, his buddy Paddy awoke to the sound of Sean's voice from beyond.
"Sean, is that you?" Paddy asked.
"Of course it me," Sean replied.
"This is unbelievable!" Paddy exclaimed. "So tell me, is there football in heaven?"
"Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you. Which do you want to hear first?"
"Tell me the good news first."
"Well, the good news is that yes there's football in heaven, Paddy."
"Oh, that is wonderful! So what could possibly be the bad news?"

"You're playing tomorrow night!"

March 5, 2007

Day 5

Sorry about day 3 and 4.....I got drunk.....

Today’s topic is kids. If you haven’t noticed, most Irish families are blessed with children. This is at times a mixed blessing, especially once they’ve been around the house for 30 years or so.

A Roman Catholic priest stood at the church door greeting the parishioners after Mass."Good morning,' Mr. and Mrs. O'Riley. “I married you ten years ago but I never see any of your children in church.”

"Deed you did, Father. We've not been blessed. My husband and I have tried but we've not been successful", said Mrs. O'Riley.

"I'm going to Rome for a few years sabbatical. I'll light a candle for you in the great basilica at the Vatican. Perhaps the Holy Mother will look kindly on you and your husband."

Several years later, back at the church door, greeting parishioners, the priest meets Mrs. O'Riley. "Mrs. O'Riley, did you ever have any children?

"Deed I did , Father," she said pointing to a family behind her.

"We've had a set of triplets, a set of twins and two singles since we last saw you.

"Praise be the Holy Mother. She's blessed you. But I don't see Mr.O'Riley. Is he here?

"No, Father, he's gone to Rome to blow out your candle."


An old man living alone in South Armagh, whose only son was in Long Kesh Prison, didn’t have anyone to dig his garden for spring planting. So he wrote to his son about his predicament.

The son sent the reply, “For HEAVENS SAKE, don’t dig the garden up, that’s where I buried the guns!!!!!” At 3 AM the next morning, a dozen British soldiers turned up and dug the garden for 3 hours, but didn’t find any guns.

Confused, the man wrote to his son telling him what had happened, asking him what he should do now? The son sent the reply: “NOW plant the potatoes!”


O'Toole volunteered to take care of his numerous children so that Mom could have an evening out. At bedtime he sent the youngsters upstairs to bed and settled down to read. One child kept creeping down the stairs, but O'Toole kept sending him back up.

At 10 o'clock the doorbell rang. It was the next door neighbor, Mrs. O'Brien. She asked if her son was there and O'Toole said no. Just then a little head appeared over the banister and a voice shouted. "I'm here Mom, but he won't let me go home."


At a picnic for a Catholic school, the Mother Superior stacked a pile of apples on one end of a table with a sign saying, "Take only one apple please -- God is watching."

On the other end of the table was a pile of cookies, on which a second grade student had placed a sign saying, "Take all the cookies you want -- God is watching the apples."


March 2, 2007

Day 2 - Marital Bliss in Ireland

Today’s theme is marital bliss. The Irish understand that humor is essential to make it through “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.” So it is a common topic for Irish humorists. I hope you enjoy these…..

An Irish couple, whose married bliss was not without a few "squalls" received a humble lecture from their priest regarding their disgraceful quarrels.
"Why, that dog and cat you have agree better than you."
"If yer reverence'll tie them together, ye'll soon change yer mind."


Mrs. Ryan, a mean looking woman, claimed her husband was not thoughtful. In this she was wrong; her husband thought about her too much. One morning on his way to work, he thought about her so much that he got off the subway at 34th Street and went to the Greyhound Terminal and took a bus to Yuma, Arizona.


Six retired Irishmen were playing poker in O'Leary's apartment when Paddy Murphy
loses $500 on a single hand, clutches his chest and drops dead at the table. Showing respect for their fallen brother, the other five continue playing standing up.

Michael O'Conner looks around and asks, "Oh, me boys, someone got's to tell
Paddy's wife. Who will it be?"

They draw straws. Paul Gallagher picks the short one. They tell him to be discreet be gentle, don't make a bad situation any worse. "Discreet??? I'm the most discreet Irishmen you'll ever meet. Discretion is me middle name. Leave it to me."

Gallagher goes over to Murphy's house and knocks on the door. Mrs. Murphy answers and asks what he wants. Gallagher declares: "Your husband just lost $500 and is afraid to come home."

"Tell him to drop dead!" says Murphy's wife. "I'll go tell him." says Gallagher.


Mrs. Dugan and Mrs. Riley were talking one day about Mr. Riley and his constant drinking. Mrs. Dugan said, "I have an idea about how to stop him from spending so much time at the pub. Every night he comes home through the cemetery. One night you should get disguised and spook him when he comes staggering through."

So Mrs. Riley waited in the cemetery one night until she heard her husband coming. She jumped up and a startled Riley said, "Who are you??"
Mrs. Riley replied, "I am the devil!"
With that, Riley shook her hand and said, "Glad to meet ya, I'm married to your sister."

March 1, 2007

Happy St. Patrick's Month!!

The most wonderful 17 days of the year are upon us!! It is time to enjoy the carefree spirit of the Irish culture. We are a people who constantly poke fun at ourselves, would spend our last dollar to buy a drink for a stranger, and quite likely get in a fight with the person who would say that was foolish.

So enjoy the trappings of the season, which means laugh, drink, and make all your criticisms with a smile so that we don’t take them the wrong way. J

For a holiday, Mulvaney decided to go to Switzerland to fulfill a lifelong dream and climb the Matterhorn. He hired a guide and just as they neared the top, the men were caught in a snow slide.
Three hours later, a Saint Bernard plowed through to them, a keg of brandy tied under his chin.
"Hooray!" shouted the guide. "Here comes man's best friend!"
"Yeah," said Mulvaney. "An' look at the size of the dog that's bringin' it!"


In hearing an Irish case of assault and battery, counsel, in cross examining one of the witnesses, asked him what they had the first place they stopped at.
"Four glasses of ale," was the reply.
"Two glasses of whiskey."
"One glass of brandy."
"A fight."


O'Connell was staggering home with a pint of booze in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. As he struggled to his feet he felt something wet running down his leg.
"Please Lord," he implored, "let it be blood."


A surgeon and an architect, both English, were joined by an Irish politician, and all fell to arguing as to whose profession was the oldest.
Said the surgeon, "Eve was made from Adam's rib, and that surely was a surgical operation."
"Maybe," said the architect, "but prior to that, order was created out of chaos, and that was an architectural job."
"Shure now," interrupted the politician, "but somebody created the chaos first."