I once worked in a sort of 'salvage' place, with a front building and a building out back where we Peons congregated when nothing was actually happening. When the front office wanted to contact us, they had a phone that was just a line to the 'back' building. We hated to hear that ring, as it meant work.

One day several of us were there when *brrrring*...my friend Roger, with an exasperated look shouted "If that's my broker, tell him to sell everything and buy whorehouses!"

and without missing a beat, I nodded and answered:"Yeah! Put your money where your mouth is!"