An Irishman staggers home from the tavern late one night with a pint of good whiskey in his back pocket. As drunks will do, he stumbles and falls. When he slowly gets up again, he feels some liquid running down the back of his leg. He mutters a short prayer, "Lord, let it be blood."

He finally gets home and his wife is asleep. He goes to the bathroom to assess the damage. Sure enough the pint is OK, but as he pulls down his pants and looks in the mirror he sees several cuts on his rear that are still bleeding. He cleans himself off as best he can and gets some bandaids from the medicine cabinet. He has to use the mirror to see where to put the bandaids, but eventually he is successful at covering the damage and goes off to bed.

The next morning, his wife wakes him up much too early. Shesays, "Ah, you were drunk last night!" He pleads innocence, but she presses on. "Oh, I knew you were drunk as soon as I saw the bandaids on the bathroom mirror!"

NOI toward anyone of the Irish persuasion.

Roger in Baltimore