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."