Divine Advice

A man goes to see his priest.....

"Father, something terrible is happening and I have to talk to you about it."

The priest asked, "What's wrong?"

The man replied, "My wife is poisoning me."

The priest, very surprised by this, asks, "How can that be?"

The man then pleads, "I'm telling you, I'm certain she's poisoning me, what should I do?"

The priest then offers, "Tell you what. Let me talk to her.  I'll see what I can find out and I'll let you know."

A week later the priest calls the man and says, "Well, I spoke to your wife.  I spoke to her on the phone for three hours. You want my advice?"

The man said, "yes".

The priest replied, "Take the poison."

Humor: Football and Confession

Years ago, the chaplain of the football team at Notre Dame was a beloved old Irish priest.

At confession one day, a football player told the priest that he had acted in an unsportsmanlike manner at a recent football game. "I lost my temper and said some bad words to one of my opponents."

"Ahhh, that's a terrible thing for a Notre Dame lad to be doin'," the priest said. He took a piece of chalk and drew a mark across the sleeve of his coat."

"That's not all, Father. I got mad and punched one of my opponents."

"Saints preserve us!" the priest said, making another chalk mark."

"There's more. As I got out of a pileup, I kicked two of the other team's players in the . . . in a sensitive area."

"Oh, goodness me!" the priest wailed, making two more chalk marks on his sleeve. "Who in the world were we playin' when you did these awful things?"

"Southern Methodist."

"Ah, well," said the priest, wiping his sleeve, "boys will be boys."

Humor: A stick and a stone

The legend is told in India about a stick and a stone that were of some small service to a Hindu holy man. Out of gratitude he offered to transform them into any object they desired.

The solid stone wanted to be a strongbox or safe to hold the holy man's sacred relics. The vain stick indicated it wanted to become a Hindu woman's beautiful gown or sari.

Thus it came to pass: the stone became a strongbox and the stick became a sari. The night after the transformation, a terrible fire ravaged the village, burning down every house.

The holy man's hut was destroyed and along with it the beautiful sari. The safe was the only thing that survived.

Moral: It's better to be safe than sari.

(Yeah, I know…)