Day 2

Everyone loves a day at the races.....


A man was sitting reading his papers when his wife hit him round the head with a frying pan.
'What was that for?' the man asked.
The wife replied 'That was for the piece of paper with the name Jenny on it that I found in your pants pocket'..
The man then said 'When I was at the races last week Jenny was the name of the horse I bet on' the wife apologized and went on with the housework.

Three days later the man is watching TV when his wife bashes him on the head with an even bigger frying pan, knocking him unconscious.

Upon re-gaining consciousness the man asked why she had hit again.
Wife replied. 'Your horse phoned'

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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!"

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Mitch, a hard-shell Southern Baptist, loved to sneak away to the racetrack. One day he was there betting on the ponies and nearly losing his shirt when he noticed this priest who stepped out onto the track and blessed the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the 4th race. Lo and behold, this horse, a very long shot, won the race.

Mitch was most interested to see what the priest did the next race. Sure enough, he watched the priest step out onto the track as the 5th racehorses lined up, and placed his blessing on the forehead of one of the horses.

Mitch made a beeline for the window and placed a small bet on the horse. Again, even though another long shot, the horse the priest had blessed won the race. 

Mitch collected his winnings and anxiously waited to see which horse the priest bestowed his blessing on for the 6th race. The priest showed, blessed a horse, Mitch bet on it, and won! Mitch was elated.

As the day went on, the priest continued blessing one of the horses, and it always came in first. Mitch began to pull in some serious money, and by the last race, he knew his wildest dreams were going to come true. He made a quick stop at the ATM and withdrew every penny he owned, and awaited the priest’s blessing that would tell him which horse to place the bet on.

True to his pattern, the priest stepped out onto the track before the last race and blessed the forehead, eyes, ears and hooves of one of the horses. Mitch placed his bet—every cent he owned—and watched the horse come in... dead last.

Mitch was dumbfounded. He made his way to the track, and when he found the priest, he demanded, “What happened, Father? All day you blessed horses and they won. In the last race, you bless a horse and he loses. Now I’ve lost my life savings, thanks to you!”

The priest nodded wisely and said, “That’s the problem with you Protestants... you can’t tell the difference between a simple blessing and the Last Rites.”