An Irishman, we'll call him Patrick Murphy, is rushed to his nearest hospital in New York,
Our Holy Mother of BeJesus, after a heart attack. The surgeon performs heart surgery and the man survives, no problem. Afterwards, the man is lying in his bed and one of the nuns is comforting him.
"Don't worry Mr Murphy, you'll be just fine, it's all over now," says the nun. "But tell me, we would like to know, sir, if you don't mind me asking, as to how you intend to pay your bill for the operation and the care. Would you be covered by an insurance policy?"
"Well, actually sister, I don't think I am," Patrick replied.
"Oh dear," continues the nun, "maybe you've got a load of money lying around and you'd like to pay by cash?"
Er, no, I don't think so sister," answered Patrick. "I'm not really a man of much material wealth."
"Well," says the nun, "perhaps you've some close family who can help out?"
"Well, not really, sister," Pat replies, "I've just one sister in County Kerry in the old country, but she's a spinster nun."
The nun replies, "Nuns are not spinsters, Patrick, nuns are married to God."
"In that case," says Pat, "perhaps you could get my brother-in-law to foot the bill!"
No one knows for sure whether Pat's brother in law came up with the cash, but, when looking at the whole
shit happens philosophy, one thing is certain when it comes to . . .
Catholicism:
If shit happens, you deserve it!
Protestants, however, have a different viewpoint . . .
Protestantism:
Let the shit happen to someone else!
Which is of course why shit always happens to the Catholics, why else would it? Hey, look, this is just a humorous look at how different religions and philosophies look at life when
shit happens, and let's face it, poor Patrick was looking for a way out of a tricky situation! ;-)
***
Interlude
For those of you who don't yet know this, I was brought up in a mixed religious home. My mother was a Roman Catholic, My Father, Church of England . . . as a lad I even sang in my local church choir for a while. The whole Yoga thing happened when I was thirteen years of age, and it came about due to my father suffering from work related stress and his doctor recommended he take up Yoga. Of course he asked me to go with him . . . well my mother showed no interest, and I did the dutiful thing . . somewhat reluctantly ;-)
. . . ok, let's get back on track . . .
***
Patrick Has His Own Shit Going Down . . .
That’s right, Patrick Murphy wrote the book on shit happening, it’s called:
Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”
That’s some heavy shit happening man! I remember as a child my mother called it
'Sod’s Law'. Basically Patrick Murphy, and my mother, believe that if there is the possibility of something going wrong, it probably will, so be a good girl guide or boy scout and be prepared . . . for anything!
Of course, like all forms of dogma, Murphy has given us many sub laws, for example:
Anything good in life is either illegal, immoral or fattening (Mrs Murphy wrote the fattening part, although I’m not sure that eight pints of Guinness a night is terribly slimming for poor ol’Patrick!).
The light at the end of the tunnel is the headlamp of an oncoming train (especially after eight pints of Guinness, by which time it’s the kind of shit happening that doesn’t worry you too much).
It is morally wrong to allow suckers to keep their money (just ask Patrick’s brother in law for confirmation).
If everything seems to be going well, you obviously don’t know what the hell is going on.
Never argue with a fool, people might not know the difference.
A short cut is the longest distance between two points.
The race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong, but that’s the way to bet.
Anything you try to fix will take longer and cost more than you thought.
The tradesman will never have seen a model quite like yours before.
In order to get a loan, you must first prove you don’t need one.
No matter how long or hard you shop for an item, after you’ve bought it, it will be on sale somewhere cheaper (this is, of course another Mrs Murphy-ism!).
There you have it, Patrick Murphy, and his wife’s, recipe for Irish Shit Happening. Of course we all know the chances of a piece of bread falling with the buttered side down is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet, don’t we, but one thing you do need to know is that:
Patrick Is An Optimist.
Well of course he is, he’s Irish after all ;-)