The Dog
Muldoon lived alone in the Irish
countryside with only a pet dog for company. One day
the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and
asked: "Father, me dog is dead. Could ya'be
saying a mass for the poor creature?"
Father Patrick replied, "I'm afraid not, we cannot
have services for an animal in the church. But there
are some Baptists down the lane, and there's no tellin'
what they believe. Maybe they'll do something for the
creature."
Muldoon said, "I'll go right away Father, Do ya'
think $5,000 is enough to donate for the service?"
Father Patrick exclaimed: "Sweet Mary, Mother of
Jesus! Why didn't ya' tell me the dog was
Catholic???"
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Not So Bad
An Irish girl went to London to work as a secretary and began sending home money
 and gifts to her parents.
After a few years they asked her to come home for a visit, as her elderly father was getting frail and very
hard of hearing. She pulled up to the family home in a Rolls Royce and stepped out wearing diamonds
and a full-length fur coat. As she walked into the house her father said, "Hmmm--they seem to be paying secretaries awfully well
in London these days."
The girl took his hands and said "Dad--I've been meaning to tell you something for years but I didn't want to put it in a letter.
Obviously I can't hide it from you any longer. I've become a prostitute."
Her father gasped, put his hand on his chest and keeled over.
The doctor was called but the old man had clearly lost the will to live.
He was put to bed and the priest was called. As the priest administered the Last Rites with
the mother and daughter weeping and wailing nearby,
the old man muttered weakly, "I'm a goner--killed by my own daughter! Killed by the shame of what she's become!"
"Please forgive me," his daughter sobbed, "I only wanted to have nice things!
I wanted to send you money and the only way I could do it was by becoming a prostitute."
Brushing the priest aside, the old man sat bolt upright in bed, smiling.
"Did you say PROSTITUTE ?? I thought you said PROTESTANT!!
Claddagh Jewelry from Ireland
Wedding and Family Rings, Pendants.
An Irishman
named O'Malley went to his doctor after a long illness.
The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and
looked O'Malley in the eye and said, "I've some
bad news for you. You have cancer, and it can't be
cured. You'd best put your affairs in order."
O'Malley was shocked and saddened. But, being of solid
character, he managed to compose himself and walk from
the doctor's office into the waiting room. To his son
who had been waiting, O'Malley said, "Well son, we
Irish celebrate when things are good,
and we celebrate when things don't go so well. In this
case, things aren't so well.
I have cancer. Let's head for the pub and have a
few pints."
After 3 or 4 pints, the two were feeling a little less
somber. There were some laughs and more beers. They
were eventually approached by some of O'Malley's old
friends who asked what the two were celebrating.
O'Malley told them that the Irish celebrate the good
and the bad. He went on to tell them that they were
drinking to his impending end.
He told his friends, "I have been diagnosed with
AIDS."
The friends gave O'Malley their condolences, and they
had a couple more beers. After his friends left,
O'Malley's son leaned over and whispered his confusion.
"Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from
cancer? You just told your friends that you were dying
from AIDS!"
O'Malley said, "I don't want any of them sleeping
with your mother after I'm gone."
"The Irish"....ya
gotta love 'em
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