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."