Seamus walks into a bar and asks the bartender for three shots of Bushmills and three pints of Guinness.
"Rough day, friend?" the bartender asks as he pours the drinks.
"Nah - it's for me brothers. The three of us used to drink together back home in Dublin when we were younger. Now Mick's in London, Paddy's in Australia, and I'm here in New York. We hardly ever see each other these days, but when we left home, we swore we'd drink like this in honor of the times we was together."
Seamus returns every Friday night, always ordering the same thing. The lone Irishman with three shots and three pints becomes a familiar sight to the other patrons.
Then, one Friday night, Seamus comes in looking downcast. He walks up to the bartender and orders two shots and two pints. A stunned silence falls over the regular patrons.
"Oh, Seamus. I'm so sorry for your loss," says the bartender. "Which brother did you lose? Mick or Paddy?"
"Oh, no! Me brothers are fine!" says Seamus. "It's just that me wife's made me quit drinking!"
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