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John R. Eggers: You gotta love the Irish

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John R. Eggers: You gotta love the Irish
Bemidji Minnesota P.O. Box 455 56619

Whoever is praying for snow, they can stop now.

Whoever is praying for some good Irish humor, your prayers have been answered. In the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day we thank our good Irish friends and neighbors for giving us the opportunity to laugh.

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Irish Potatoes

An elderly man lived alone in Ireland and his only son was in prison. The man didn’t know anyone who would spade up his potato garden. He wrote to his son about it and his son replied. “Whatever you do, don’t dig up that garden, that’s where I buried the guns.” Early the next morning a dozen police officers showed up and dug up the entire garden, but didn’t find any guns. Confused, the father wrote to his son telling him what happened and asking him what to do next. His son replied: “Start planting your potatoes.”

Ireland vs Texas

A Texan walks into an Irish pub and shouts out, “I hear you Irish are a bunch of hard drinkers. I’ll give $500 American dollars to anybody in here who can drink 10 pints of Guinness back-to-back.”

The room is quiet and no one takes up the Texan’s offer but one man leaves. Thirty minutes later the same gentleman who left returns and taps the Texan on the shoulder. “Is your bet still good?” asks the Irishman.

The Texan says yes and tells the bartender to line up 10 pints of Guinness. Immediately the Irishman tears into all 10 of the pint glasses, drinking them all back-to-back.

The other pub patrons cheer as the Texan sits in amazement. The Texan gives the Irishman the $500 and says, “If ya don’t mind me askin’, where did you go for that 30 minutes you were gone?”

The Irishman replies, “Oh, I had to go to the pub down the street to see if I could do it first.”

Heavenly Irish

Sean was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn’t find a parking place. Looking up to heaven he said, “Lord take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish whiskey!”

Miraculously, a parking place appeared. Sean looked up again and said, ‘Never mind, I found one.”

The Catholic 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 Lutherans 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 to them for the service?” Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet Mary and Joseph. Why didn’t ya tell me the dog was Catholic?”

Taxing the Church

A well-dressed man comes to the church office and asks, “Hello, is this Father O’Malley?” Father O’Malley answered, “It is.”

“I am from the Ireland Revenue Service, income tax department. Can you help us?” “I’ll try,” said O’Malley.

“Do you know a Ted Houlihan?” “I do.”

“Is he a member of your congregation?” “He is.”

“Did he donate $10,000 to the church?” “He will.”

Are You Ready for Heaven?

Father Murphy walks into a pub in Dublin, and asks the first man he meets, “Do you want to go to heaven?” The man said, “I do, Father.” The priest said, “Then stand over there against the wall.”

Then the priest asked the second man, “Do you want to go to heaven?”

“Certainly, Father,” the man replied. “Then stand over there against the wall,” said the priest.

Then Father Murphy walked up to O’Toole and asked, “Do you want to go to heaven?” O’Toole said, “No, I don’t Father.”

The priest said, “I don’t believe this. You mean to tell me that when you die you don’t want to go to heaven?” O’Toole said, “Oh, when I die, yes. I thought you were getting a group together to go right now.”

Irish Chicken

Walking into the bar, Mike said to Brian the pub bartender, “Pour me a stiff one – just had another fight with the little woman.”

“Oh yeah?” said Brian, “And how did this one end?”

“When it was over,” Mike replied, “She came to me on her hands and knees.”

“Really,” said Brian, “Now that’s a switch! What did she say?”

She said, “Come out from under the bed, you little chicken.”

Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

— John R. Eggers of Bemidji is a former university professor and area principal. He also is a writer and public speaker.

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