An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn.
When he finished all three, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender says to him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time.”
The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days we all drank together.”
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar and always drinks the same way: he orders three pints and drinks the three pints by taking drinks from each of them in turn.
One day, he comes in and orders two pints.
All the other regulars in the bar notice and fall silent.
When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.”
The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a lights dawns in his eye and he laughs.
“Oh, no,” he says, “Everyone is fine. I’ve just quit drinking!”
A small guy goes into an elevator and notices a huge guy standing next to him.
The big guy looks down on the small white guy and says, “Seven foot tall, three hundred fifty pounds, twenty-inch weapon, three-pound left ball, three-pound right ball, Turner Brown.”
The small guy faints!
The big guy picks up the small guy and brings him to, slapping his face and shaking him.
He asks the small guy, “What’s wrong?”
The small guy says, “Excuse me, but what did you say?”
The big guy looks down and says “Seven foot tall, three hundred fifty pounds, twenty-inch weapon, three- pound left ball, three-pound right ball, my name is Turner Brown.”
The small guy says, “Thank God, I thought you said, “Turn around.”
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