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Paddy Irishman died and went up to heaven where St Peter greeted him.

"And who are you?" asked St Peter.

"My name is Peter O'Toole"

"And what did you do for a living?" asked St Peter.

"I was unemployed"

"Unemployed hmmm?" mused St Peter. "And have you ever done anything good in your life?"

"As a matter of fact I have. I was walking along the street once and I saw a group of bikers who were threatening to beat up a defenceless girl. So I rushed to her rescue, pulled the ringleader off by his hair, kicked him hard where it hurts and told him and his gang to clear off."

"That's highly commendable,� said St Peter, flicking through the man's file, "but I don't see any record of this incident. When did it happen?"

"About five minutes ago"

I'm a quarter Irish (and a quarter Highland Scottish), so being half Gaelic I've always had an affinity for Irish culture, jokes, the whole bit.

Alexis

And what is the most useless thing in the world to a woman on Saturday night?

An Irishman . . .

LOL!

Seamus was at the pub drinking away and Father O'Malley (I was going to write Kelleher ) came in to talk to him about his drinking.

Father O'Malley orders a glass of Jameson and pulls out a worm from his pocket. He drops the worm in the glass of the whiskey and the worms flails about for a while and then dies.

Father O'Malley said to Seamus "Now, my son, what does that tell you?"

Seamus replied, "That's easy Father, if you drink whiskey you won't get worms!"

Dr. Eric,

Perhaps Seamus was not as stupid as one might think at first glance.

Drinking alchohol has been known to kill harmful parasites in the human body. (I have read that for this reason, saki, the powerful Japanes wine is drunk (sp?) with sushi).

Alice

Unfortunately for the Japanese, they have the highest rates of stomach cancer in the world, and the highest rates of parasitic worms.

(It's the raw fish they eat.)

Really?

So you mean the saki doesn't help?!?

Oh well-- forget that false factoid.

I don't drink, and I don't eat raw sushi anymore, so personally, I don't care.

Alice

P.S. What exactly is the high rate of stomach cancer attributed to?

A rich Texan walks into a pub in Dublin, and loudly says "I hear you Irish fellas can really drink", to which he get's many answers of "Aye tis true we can indeed". The rich Texan than opens his wallet and says "I got 10.000 American dollars for any man who can down 10 pints of Guinness in 60 seconds" Immediately a little fellow runs out the door, while the Texan waits in vain for someone to take him up on his offer. After a few minutes the Texan sits down at the bar and he's on his first drink when the little Irishman returns breathing heavily. "Excuse me, but is the offer to drink 10 pints of Guinness in 60 seconds still on" he asks. "It is" replies the Texan, and so, quickly the bartender lines up 10 pints for the wee fellow. In rapid succession all 10 bottles are emptied completely with time to spare, and so the amazed Texan reaches into his wallet and hands the little Irishman a large wad of bills. "Tell me son" asks the Texan "Where did you have to run off to in such a hurry when I first made the offer ?". Smiling shyly the fellow answers "I had to go to the pub across the street first to see if I could do the trick".

Paddy walked into a bar and ordered 3 pints of Guinness.

The bartender asked, "One at a time, or all at once?"

"All at once," says Paddy. "I've just moved to the States and me brothers and me decided that each day we'd sit down and have a pint together. So one's for me, one's for me brother Sean, and the other is for me brother Kevin."

OK, thought the barman. And this ritual continued for over a year, with Paddy drinking 3 pints everyday.

One day, Paddy came in and said, "2 pints of Guinness, please."

This, obviously, caused a stir in the bar -- had one of the brothers died? What was the matter?

So the intrepid barman, whilst delivering the 2 pints, says, "Paddy, I'm sorry about your loss... I'm sorry to hear one of your brother's died."

Paddy starts and says, "My brother didn't die. My doctor said I had to quit drinking."

Alice,

The cancer is probably due to the extremely high stress the people live under which is correlated with the increase of Helicobactor pylori in the stomach. Then there is the higher rate of cigarette cmoking, the higher consumption of pickled and salted meats, the fact that the seas are poluted and the fish contain way too many toxic chemicals in them and the fact that raw meat can have parasites in it that should be cooked out of them!!!

Here's a Scottish joke, that's not for the feint of heart.

A Scotsman walks into a bar with a steering wheel tied onto the front of his kilt.

The barman asks, "Why do you have a steering wheel tied in front of your kilt?"

The Scotsman says, "I don't know, but it's driving me nuts!"

In my version, Paddy gives up drinking for Lent.

Guiness in a bottle?

Two Irishmen were sitting in a bar and being the only two there that afternoon, they inevitably struck up a conversation.

Irishman A: Are you from Ireland?
Irishman B: I am.
A: Me too! Whereabouts?
B: Galway City.
A: I'm from Galway, too! Where in Galway?
B: Down by the quays.
A: Get out. I am too.
B: You are? Do you know Mr. Seamus Connolly?
A: Seamus Connolly? Seamus Connolly is my father!
B: Your father? Seamus Connolly's MY father!

At which point a newcomer asks the barman: What's going on there?

The barman answers, "Oh, the Connolly twins are drunk again."

What funny

Oh my gosh! The jokes get funnier and funnier.

Of course there's the true one:

An Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman were sitting around in the pub. A fly lands in the Englishman's beer. He looks disgusted and asks the barman for a new pint.

A fly then lands in the Scotman's beer, whereupon he gently removes the fly and continues to drink his beer.

A third fly lands in the Irishman's beer. He pulls the fly out by its wings and shouts: "Spit it out!"


WAAAAAAAAAY too much time in Irish pubs...

an Irishman and a pig were in the gutter when a priest walked by and said: one is known by the company one keeps. so the pig got up and walked away.
O'Toole took the temperance pledge and was for a long time faithful at the meetings. well, he slacked off and was absent from the temperance meetings for a long time. so a couple of members came by to check on O'Toole. the wife answers the door and the first member asks: does Mr. O'Toole live here?. the wife says: shure and he does, jist carry him on in.
Much Love,
Jonn
whose last name is Mulry.

This one I'll admit is tasteless, but it's just a joke, so please don't get offended (too much, or else it won't be funny). I like it because the Irish guys are NOT drunk or in a pub, and it pokes fun at Italians, which so rarely happens in ethnic jokes.

If any of this helps, I did a masters thesis on ethnic and regional humor, so I know most of these jokes because I play music 5-30 hours a week in Irish pubs around the East Coast; and because I'm a scientist.

Anyway:


Two Irishmen are walking through Central Park and come upon an Italian gentleman playing the hurdy gurdy. They notice he's got a little monkey running around, holding out a silver cup, soliciting donations.

Seamus and Patrick look at each other, neither being overly fond of Italians, then return to watching this spectacle. However, when the monkey comes to them, Seamus puts a $20 bill in the cup.

Patrick says, "Seamus... what'er you doin'? I thought you hated the Eye-talians!"

Seamus responds, "Yeah Paddy I do. But the Lord knows you can't take it out on the children."

hey! whattsamatter for you, eh?
I have two Italian half brothers, and just because one looks a little simian does not give you the right to insult Italians! Giotti might put a bomb in you house!
Much Love,
Jonn
who upon calling the half brother a guinea, was treated to being called a mick.oh, well, the Native in us makes us both halfbreeds, I suppose.

I grew up on Eastern PA where a popular pastime is "what's your last name?" ... "oh, so you're a mick/polack/kraut" and the list goes on.

I met a guy from California in New York. He told me his name was like O'Donnell I think. I said, automatically, "oh, you're Irish." He said, "I don't know." I then repeated, "you're Irish, at least someone on your dad's side was at one point."

He told me that the "ethnic background" game we LOVE here in Eastern US isn't as popular in the West.

Too bad for them!

So a Catholic priest and a Protestant minister were driving in Ireland and had a head-on collision. The priest rushed out of his vehicle over the to Protestant minister's car.

"Are you ok, Reverend?" asked the priest.

"Why yes thank you, Father. I think I'm alright," said the minister.

"Are you sure now? You look a bit distressed. Can I offer you some water?" said the priest.

"That would be very kind of you, Father," said the minister.

So the priest took out a flask from his jacket, opened it and handed it to the minister. The minister began to gulp the contents of the flask...and then quickly sprayed them out all over himself.

"Father, that's not water, that's alcohol!" said the minister.

"Well what do you know about that," the priest muttered, and then turning to his right said:

"Why hellooooo there Officer MacGilicuddy!"

Two Irishmen, Patrick Murphy and Shawn O'Brian grew up together and were lifelong friends. But alas, Patrick developed cancer, and was dying. While on his deathbed, Patrick called to his buddy, Shawn, "O'Brian, come 'ere. I 'ave a request for ye." Shawn walked to his friend's bedside and kneels.

"Shawny ole boy, we've been friends all our lives, and now I'm leaving 'ere. I 'ave one last request fir ye to do."

O'Brian burst into tears, "Anything Patrick, anything ye wish. It's done."

"Well, under me bed is a box containing a bottle of the finest whiskey in all of Ireland. Bottled the year I was born it was. After I die, and they plant me in the ground, I want you to pour that fine whiskey over me grave so it might soak into me bones and I'll be able to enjoy it for all eternity."

O'Brian was overcome by the beauty and in the true Irish spirit of his friend's request, he asked, "Aye, tis a fine thing you ask of me, and I will pour the whiskey. But, might I strain it through me kidneys first?"

It's spelled Sean.

Fr. Paddy is driving around a shopping center's parking lot looking for a parking place. He says in prayer if God will get him a parking space, he'll give up cheating at cards. Nothing opens up.

He says if God will get him a parking place, he will give up telling off-color jokes on poker night. Again, nothing happens.

Finally, he shakes his head in recognition and promises if God gets him a parking space, he will give up his whiskey.

At that moment, the clouds part, a car pulls out in front of him, and a ray of golden sunlight falls upon the empty space.

Fr. Paddy smiles, turns his eyes up to Heaven and says, "Never mind; I found one me'self."

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Western Orthodoxy Blog [westernorthodox.blogspot.com]

Here's one of my favorite Irish jokes:

A few decades ago, when there was major unemployment in Ieland, this Paddy sailed off to England, in hopes of finding a job. On arrival in London, he noticed a building site with a large HELP WANTED sign. "Ah, that's for me!" he thought, and sought out the foreman, so as to apply for the job.

The newly-arrived Paddy looked as thick as two planks, so the foreman said "well, Paddy, thank you for applying, but we really need men with good intelligence for this work." Paddy replied "ah, then I'm your man, sir, I've got very good intelligence."

"No doubt", said the foreman. "But Paddy, we need men with good education as well . . ." Paddy answers "ah, sir, I've got fine education, I have."

"Well", said the foreman, "this is a complicated building site. Could you tell me, Paddy, the difference between a joist and a girder?"

"Ah, sir, sure now, that's easy. Joyce wrote Julius Caesar and Goethe wrote Faust."

An tAth. Serge

"What did Saint Stanislaus say to Saint Patrick?"

"Whatever happened to Irish jokes?"

What's the largest Polish monument in America?

The Staszu Liberty, of course!

any bohunk jokes?
Much Love,
Jonn

Ah yes, Polish jokes. My FAVORITE! For the record, I'm 1/2 Irish (my mom's 100%) and my dad is I'd say 75% Polish (RC) and 25% Rusyn (Greek Catholic)... so I'm enjoying it all as an Irish Carpatho-Rusyn Orthodox Greek Catholic who enjoys all things Polish, especially pierogi, galumpki, and Polish jokes.

How do you get a one-armed Pole out of at tree?

Wave!

I've heard the same of blondes!

I'm not sure whether this counts as an Irish joke or a Polish joke.

Anyway, the story goes that somewhere in the PA coal regions an aspiring Irish candidate was running for public office. His campaign manager knew that one must cultivate all the various ethnic groups to maximize one's vote, so he arranged for the candidate to eat lunch at Mrs. Slupski's Elite Caf�.

The campaign manager arranged for television to broadcast this all-important meal, and told the candidate that one particular courtesy must at all costs not be omitted. Mrs. Slupski's Elite Caf� was the best Polish eating-place for miles around, and at the end of the meal, the candidate must go up to the proprietress and say, with great sincerity and feeling: "Mrs. Slupski, beyond any doubt these are the very best galumpkis I have ever tasted anywhere!"

Mindful that a vote gained is a vote earned, the bold Irish lad went to Mrs. Slupski's Elite Caf� for lunch at the appointed hour on the appointed day. After partaking of all this delicate cuisine, he duly approached the proprietress and said, with great sincerity and feeling: "Mrs. Galumpki, beyond any doubt these are the very best slupskis I have ever tasted anywhere!"

Selah.

Fr. Serge

Everytime I visit my parents I'm looking to marry one of the Galumpki girls, since the Yuenglings are taken!

A Pole went to get his eyes examined. The doctor asked if he could read the first line. "Yes, 'E,'" Stanislaus replied.

"What about the second line?"
"Yes, 'C-R-M,'" said Stan...and on through each line of the chart.

Finally, they came to the last line of the eye chart, and the doctor asked, "Can you read the very last line?" Stanislaus replied, "Read it? I know the guy!"

------
Western Orthodoxy Blog [westernorthodox.blogspot.com]

I was in a largely Anglo-Saxon genealogy chat room and decided to post some of my Polish family names: Borzyszkowski, Grzechowiak, Przybylski, etc.

Response: Do you want to buy a vowel?

Around the corner from the Greek-Catholic Cathedral in Toronto there used to be a restaurant which advertised "Canadian, Ukrainian, and Chinese cuisine". I never ate there, which is probably just as well!

Fr. Serge

We have quite a variety of ethnic restaurants and establishnments in Pittsburgh and its environs. As for the Irish ones, I have yet to eat in one of them.

Bill...half Irish

There is no Irish restaurant in Pittsburgh? I'm shocked; New York has quite a few, including some particularly good ones.

Fr. Serge

Mrs. Pete Monaghan came into the newsroom to pay for her husband's obiturary. She was told by the kindly newsman that it was a dollar a word and he remembered Pete and wasn't it too bad about him passing away. She thanked him for his kind words and bemoaned the fact that she only had two dollars. But she wrote out the obituary, "Pete died." The newsman said he thought old Pete deserved more and he'd give her three more words at no charge. Mrs. Pete Monaghan thanked him and rewrote the obituary: "Pete died. Boat for sale"

Four priests board a train for a long journey to a church council conference. Shortly into the trip, one pries says "Well, we've all worked together for many years, but don't really know one another. I suggest we tell each other one of our sins." They look nervously at each other but nod OK. The first priest says "Since I suggested it, I'll go first. With me it's the drink. Once a year I take off my collar and go out of town to a pub and drink myself blind for a few days. Get it out of my system." They all look each other again nervously, but the next priest slowly starts "Wellll......with me, it's gambling. Periodically, I nick the money out of the poor box and go to the races. Spend it all! I get it out of my system." The third, who is really nervous now reluctantly says "This is very difficult. My sin is worse. I take off my collar and go into the red light district, pick out a lass, and spend a week with her, just to get it out of me system." They all look at the fourth priest waiting. He doesn't say anything. Then one of the four speaks up "Come now, we've all told our innermost faults. It's your turn." He looks at the others and starts hestitantly "Welllllll..... I'm an inveterate gossip, and I can't wait to get off this train!"

Dear Father Serge,
We have our share of Irish restaurants and pubs here in the 'Burgh and I've been to a few of them. Just haven't "EATEN" in any of them. Joke thread remember.

I've been to a restaurant serving "Mexican and Lebanese Cuisine." I'm guessing there's a marriage behind that combo....

-------
Western Orthodoxy Blog [westernorthodox.blogspot.com]

Lebanese cooking is delicious - and the Mexicans make excellent hot chocolate.

Fr. Serge

I'm with you on the Lebanese food, Father. Ethiopian is also mighty fine fare!

Pat and Mick landed themselves a job at a sawmill.
Just before morning tea Pat yelled: "Mick! I lost me finger!"
"Have you now?" says Mick. "And how did you do it?"
"I just touched this big spinning thing here like thi...Damn! There goes another one!"

Gordo

a Ruthenian goes into a pizza parlor and orders a pizza. the dude at the counter says: do you want that cut in six pieces or eight? the Ruthenian says: better cut it in six pieces, I don't think that I can eat eight.
as far as Irish restaraunts go; what is the definition of a seven course Irish dinner? a boiled potato and a six pack.
Much Love,
Jonn

Dear John,

The jokes are funny. I hope everyone keeps posting them. We can all use a good laugh.

God Bless,

Zenovia

Yeah, many of us survive this crazy and cruel world with them Irish and Polish jokes!

Especially as cracked inimitably by Irish and/or Poles, or vice versa!

Keep 'em coming, lads!

I've eaten in ALL of Pittsburgh's Irish restaurants. The food's pretty good, actually. Irish cuisine can be downright amazing; or it can really really stink. But what I wouldn't give for a Ulster Fry after a night of Guinness in Donegal!

I learned how to use chopstix at a restaraunt called "Estrella Del Cielo", back in 1978. it served Chinese and Cuban food, and located in the upper seventies on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. something political, may be?good food, comrades, and washed it down with vermouth.
Much Love,
Jonn

"I've tried tamales and shish kabob,
but I prefer corn on the cob!"

I still want what you were going to feed those Jehovah Witness missionaries, dude!
Much Love,
Jonn
whoops! I meant FATHER dude.

Michael Hoolihan was courting Frances Phelan. The young couple sat in the parlor of the girl's house night after night, much to the annoyance of old man Phelan.

One night he couldn"t take any more. Standing at the top of the stairs, he yelled down,

"What's that young fella doin' here all hours of the night?"

"Why, Dad, " said Frances, "Michael was just telling me everything that's in his heart!"

"Well, next time, " roared Phelan, "just let him tell you what's in his head, and it won't take half as long!"

Then there was the American tourist with the hired car in County Fermanagh. As hired cars are sometimes wont to do, this one suddenly stopped and declined to start again in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere.

The American tourist cried out loud with frustration. A great brown horse, grazing in a field over there, heard the outcry and ambled through the field to the road to look the situation over. The horse said to the American tourist "Would you ever open the bonnet and give us a wee look?"

Perhaps unaccustomed to the accent of equine discourse in County Fermanagh, the American tourist screamed "WHO SAID THAT?" Patiently the horse repeated his request: "Would you ever open the bonnet and give us a wee look?"

Tembling with fear, the American tourist opened the hood. The horse stuck his nose close to the motor and looked for a moment. Then the horse said to the American tourist: "Ye've a green wire in such a place, and a red wire in such another place. If you give them each a tug, I think you'll find that at least one, and perhaps both, have worked loose, and that could be the problem."

The American tourist, still trembling with shock, tried the two wires and found that, indeed, both wires had worked loose. Very patiently the horse told him "Now open the boot, get out the tool kit, take such a wrench, make sure the wires are properly connected, and tighten the nuts with the wrench."

The American tourist did so. The horse, still patient, told the American tourist "Now. Put the wrench back in the tool kit, the tool kit back in the boot, close the boot, close the bonnet, and try the key in the car; I think you'll find that the car will start."

Still in a state of shock, the American tourist did as he was bidden and, lo and behold, the car started. The American tourist drove straight into Maguiresbridge, right up to the pub, leapt out of the car, ran into the pub, and ordered a triple Irish. He threw that back in nothing flat, and said to the barman "Give me another!" and threw the second drink back. He again said to the barman "give me another!". The barman replied "Mister, it's a little early in the day for this yoke, and you seem a bit shaken up. Is everthing all right?"

The American tourist said "You'll never believe me - just give me a drink!" Taking pity on the American tourist, the barman poured him a drink and said "Now give us a try. Tell us what happened; we might believe you at that!"

The American tourist said: "My car broke down on that road, three miles east of here - and a great brown horse came walking through the field and told me how to fix the car!"

The barman said "Aye - it was such a road?"

"YES!" screamed the tourist!

"Aye." said the barman. "And it was three miles to the east?"

"YES!" screamed the tourist!

"Aye." said the barman. "And it was a great brown horse who told you how to fix the car?"

"YES!" screamed the tourist!

"Aye." said the barman. "Well, you know, you might have done worse."

"I might have done worse?" said the American tourist. "Just what do you mean?"

"Well," said the barman, "three miles west along that same road you'll find a great black horse, but he knows absolutely nothing about cars."

An tAth. Brian

That is BRILLIANT

Thanks Father

Glad you enjoyed.

Fr. Serge