The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed  and looked Murphy in the eye
and said, " I've some  bad news  for you............you have the cancer and it can't 
be cured.   I'd give you two weeks to a month."

    Murphy was shocked and saddened by the news   He managed to compose
himself and walk from  the  doctor's office into  the  waiting room.  There he saw
his son who had been waiting.  Murphy said, "Son,  we Irish celebrate  when things
are good and celebrate  when things don't go so well.  In this case, things aren't  so well.  I have cancer and I've been given a short time  to live.  So let's head for the
pub and have a few pints."

    After three or four pints the two were feeling a little  less somber. There were
some laughs and more beers.  They were eventually approached by some of
Murphy's  old friends who asked what the two were celebrating.

Murphy told them that the Irish celebrate the good and  the bad. He went on to
tell them that they were drinking  to his impending end. He told his friends
"I've only got  a few weeks to live as I have been diagnosed with AIDS."

    The friends gave Murphy their condolences and  they had a couple more beers. After his friends left, Murphy's son leaned over and  whispered his  confusion.

"Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer...?

You just told your friends that you were  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."