Slay.me

One night, two Eskimos are sitting in a bar in northern Alaska, when they are accosted by a young man from the Mainland. The fellow has obviously been drinking. He slurs, “Hey, ya know, I’ve always admired you Eskimos. I REEAAALLLY like Eskimos. I’ve ALWAYS WANTED to be an Eskimo. Tell me how ta BE an Eskimo, huh?”

The Eskimos wink at each other. One tells the guy, “Okay, to become an Eskimo, there are only three things that you have to do. First, you’ve got to drink a whole bottle of Yukon Jack at once, then you’ve got to kill a polar bear with your bare hands, and, finally, you have to make love to an Eskimo woman.”

The guy takes this in. He ticks off three fingers to himself. Then he heads over to the bar, and orders a bottle of Yukon Jack. Already drunk, he drinks the whole thing down. This has a bad effect on his balance. The fellow staggers out of the bar, muttering something like “Polar bear, Polar bear…”

Several hours pass.

Finally, the door to the bar opens, and the drunk is back. He looks a fright. His parka is ripped, one of his arms is dangling at a crazy angle, and he’s got blood all over his face. He staggers over to the Eskimos, and says, “ALL right. I’ve got the Yukon Jack. I’ve got the polar bear. Now WHERE’S THIS ESKIMO BITCH I’VE GOTTA KILL?”

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn.

When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender asks him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it, it would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.”

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three pints and drinks them in turn.

One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent.

When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.”

The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. “Oh, no,” he, says, “everyone’s fine. I’ve just quit drinking.”