It hasn't affected my brothers
A cowboy, who just moved to Montana from Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Bud.
He 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 approaches and tells the cowboy,
"You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it.
It would taste better if you bought one at a time."
The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers.
One is in Arizona , the other is in Colorado.
When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.
So I'm drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself."
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.
He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.
One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs.
All the regulars take 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 loss."
The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs.
"Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains.
"It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking."
“It hasn't affected my brothers though."
Your name is one the front of your suitcase...
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of the world-famous detective Sherlock Holmes, was not above telling self- deprecating tales.
In one situation, he was waiting at a taxi stand outside the railway station in Paris.
When a taxi pulled up, he placed his suitcase in the car and took a seat
next to it."Where can I take you, Mr. Doyle?" asked the taxi driver.
Doyle was flabbergasted. He asked the driver whether he knew him by sight.
*"No, sir, I have never seen you before."*
The puzzled Doyle asked him how he knew he was Conan Doyle.
*"This morning's paper had a story about you being on vacation in 7Marseilles. This is the taxi-stand where people who return from Marseilles always come to. Your skin color tells me you have been on vacation. The ink-spot on your right index finger suggests to me that you're a writer. Your clothing is very English, and not French. And so, I deduced that you are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."*
Doyle remarked, "This is truly amazing. You are a real-life counterpart to my fictional creation, Sherlock Holmes."
*"There is one other thing," the driver said.*
"What is that?"
*"Your name is on the front of your suitcase."*
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