An Irishman's first drink with his son While reading an article last night about fathers and sons, memories came flooding back to the time I took me son out for his first pint. Off we went to our local pub only two blocks from the cottage. I got him a Guinness. He didn't like it, so I drank it. Then I got him a Kilkenny's, he didn't like that either, so I drank it. Finally, I thought he might like some Harp Lager? He didn't. I drank it. I thought maybe he'd like whisky better than beer so we tried a Jameson's; nope! In desperation, I had him try that rare Redbreast, Ireland's finest whisky. He wouldn't even smell it. What could I do but drink it! By the time I realized he just didn't like to drink, I was so shit-faced I could hardly push his stroller back home!!!
Irish Confession I went into the confessional box after many years of being away from the Catholic Church. Inside I found a fully equipped bar with Guinness on tap. On one wall, there was a row of decanters with fine Irish whiskey and Waterford crystal glasses. On the other wall was a dazzling array of the finest cigars and chocolates. When the priest came in, I said to him, "Father, forgive me, for it's been a very long time since I've been to confession, but I must first admit that the confessional box is much more inviting than it used to be." He replied, "You moron, you're on my side."
