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."