A man, who smelled like a distillery, flopped down on a subway seat 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 disheveled man turned to the priest and said, "Say, Father, what
causes arthritis?"

"Mister, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too
much alcohol, and a contempt for your fellow man."

"Well, I'll be damned," the drunk muttered, returning 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?"

"I don't have it, Father. I was just reading that the Pope does."