The carpenter

Saint Peter is watching the gates of Heaven, but he really has to go to the bathroom. He asks Jesus to watch the gates for a few minutes, and Jesus agrees.

As Jesus is standing there, he sees an old man leading a donkey up from Earth to Heaven. He notices the old man has carpenter’s tools with him. When the old man gets to the gates, Jesus asks him to describe his life and explain why he feels he should be admitted into Heaven.

The man explains:

“In English, my name would be Joseph, but I didn’t live in America or England. I lived a modest life, making things out of wood. I’m not remembered very well by most people, but almost everyone has heard of my son. I call him my son, but I was more of a Dad to him — he really didn’t come into this world in the usual way. I sent my son out to be among the people of the world. He was ridiculed by many, and was even known to associate himself with some pretty unsavory characters, although he himself tried to be honest and perfect. My single biggest reason for trying to get into Heaven is to be re-united with my son.”

Jesus is awe-struck by the man’s story. He looks into the old man’s eyes and asks, “Father?”

The old man’s face brightens; he looks at Jesus, and asks, “Pinocchio?”

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Catholic school

A ten year old public school boy was finding fifth grade math to be the challenge of his life. His mom and dad did everything and anything to help their son…private tutors, peer assistance, CD-ROMs, Textbooks, even HYPNOSIS! Nothing worked.

Finally, giving up they enrolled him into a small Catholic school to await another destiny.

At the end of the first day of school the boy walked in with a stern expression on his face, and walked right past the parents and went straight to his room -and quietly closed the door. For nearly two hours he toiled away in his room -with math books strewn about his desk and the surrounding floor. He only emerged long enough to eat, and after quickly cleaning his plate, he went straight back to his room, closed the door, and worked feverishly at his studies until bedtime.

The parents were not sure if they should comment on the boy’s extra efforts for fear of him losing this new found fervor, so they seemingly ignored it. This pattern continued ceaselessly.

One day the first quarter report card came out. Unopened, he dropped the envelope on the family dinner table and went straight to his room.

His parents were petrified. What lay inside the envelope? Cautiously the mother opened the letter, and to her amazement she saw a bright red “A” under the subject, MATH.

Overjoyed, she and her husband rushed into their son’s room, thrilled at the remarkable progress of their young son!

“Was it the nuns that did it?”, the father asked. The boy only shook his head and said, “No.” “Was it the one-on-one tutoring? The peer-mentoring?”, asked the mother. Again, the boy shrugged, “No.” “The textbooks? The teacher? The curriculum?”, asked the father. “Nope,” said the son. “It was all very clear to me from the very first day of Catholic school.”

“How so?”, asked his mom.

“When I walked into the lobby, and I saw that guy they’d nailed to the plus sign, I knew those people meant business!”

 

Say, what causes arthritis?

A drunken man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway 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 man turned to the priest and asked, “Say, what causes arthritis?”

The priest replies, “My Son, it’s caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of a bath.” The drunk muttered in response and then returned 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?”

The drunk answered, “I don’t have it, I was just reading here that the Pope does.”