An Irishman named Murphy went to his doctor after a long illness. The doctor sighed and looked Murphy in the eye and said, I've some bad news for you. "You have cancer and it can't be cured. I'll give you two weeks to live".
Murphy, saddened by the news, but of solid character, managed to compose himself and walk to the waiting room where his son had been waiting.
"Son", he said, "we Irish celebrate when things are good and even when things are bad. In this case, it's bad. I have cancer and I have two weeks to live. Let's go to the pub and have a few drinks."
After a few drinks, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. Eventually they were approached by some of Murphy's friends, who asked what they were celebrating. Murphy told them that he had two weeks to live and that he was dying of "AIDS".
After his friends left, his son leaned over and asked quietly, "Dad, I thought you said you were dying from cancer? You just told your friends that you are dying from "AIDS".
Murphy said, "I am dying from cancer son, I just don't want any of them sleeping with your mother after I'm gone.
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