A man, who smelled like a distillery, flopped 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 gin was sticking out of his torn coat
pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes the
disheveled man turned to the priest and said, "Say, Father, what causes
arthritis?"

"Mister, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap wicked women, too
much alcohol, and a contempt for your fellow man."

"Well, I'll be damned," the drunk muttered, returning 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?"

"I don't have it, Father. I was just reading that the Pope does."

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