A Lovely Joke

Normally, I don't like jokes. Don't know why. You'd think I do. But I don't. Should. But don't.

That said, I did hear a joke I thought was blog worthy.

So. Gather everyone around. Quiet. Ready?

And thus begins the joke:

Seems there was a monastery high in the mountains. The rules at this monastery were quite strict. Talking was forbidden. Always. Except once a year...on Christmas...one monk could say one sentence and one sentence only. And each year, it changed from monk to monk.

So, one Christmas, as all the monks were sitting down to dinner...they awaited what Brother Duncan would say. He rose from the table, looked at everyone and said, "I think these mashed potatoes are quite good." Then he sat down.

The next Christmas...365 days later, it was Brother Michael's turn to speak. He rose from the table, looked at the others and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy." He then sat down.

365 days later...at Christmas dinner...it was Brother Andrew's turn to speak. He rose from the table and said, "I'm sick and tired of all this bickering!"

That's the end of the joke.