Man walks into a bar and orders three shots of whiskey.

Man walks into a bar and orders three separate shots of whiskey. He solemnly drinks each one. The bartender asks why he needs the three separate shots, and why all at once.

“Well, this one’s for me brother in Dublin. This one’s for me brother in New York. And this one’s for me. Seein’ as how we can’t be in the same bar, we figure if all three of us do this once a month, well–it’s almost like we’re drinkin’ together.”

A month goes by, and the guy comes back in, orders three shots, drinks all three. And again each month, for years. When asked to explain, he always says the same thing: “Well, this one’s for me brother in Dublin. This one’s for me brother in New York. And this one’s for me.”

Until one month when the guy comes in and orders only two shots. Drinks them solemn as you please. The concerned bartender asks: “Excuse me, but–did something happen to one of your brothers?”

“No–this one’s for me brother in Dublin. And this one’s for me brother in New York. I quit drinkin’.”

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