I've gotten a lot of favorable responses to our recent columns of humor. I'm continuing that today with one filled with Irish humor.

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An Irishman arrived at J.F.K airport and wandered the terminal with tears streaming down his cheeks. An airline employee asked him if he was already homesick.

"No", replied the Irishman. "I've lost all me luggage!" How'd that happen? "The cork fell out!", said the Irishman.

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Two Irishmen were sitting at a pub having beer and watching the brothel across the street. They saw a Baptist minister walk into the brothel, and one of them said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see a man of the cloth goin' bad." Then they saw a rabbi enter the brothel, and the other Irishman said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see that the Jews are fallin' victim to temptation as well." They they see a Catholic priest enter the brother, and one of the Irishmen said, "What a terrible pity...one of the girls must be dying."

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Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over her," say Paddy, "It's Michael O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87." That's nothing," says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Toole, it says here that he was 95 when he died."

Just then Sheamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got to be 145." What was his name?", asks Paddy. Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what was written on the stone marker, and exclams, "Miles, from Dublin."

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An Englishman, a Scotsman, and a Irishman go into a pub and each orders a pint of beer. Before they get to drink their beer, a fly lands in each of their beers.

The Englishman pushes his beer away and asks for another. The Scotsman takes the fly out and drinks his beer.

The Irishman grabs the fly in his beer and pinches it between his fingers and yells, "Spit it out, spit it out."

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Drunk Ole Mulvihill (from the Northern Irish Clan), staggers into a Catholic church and enters a confessional box, sits down but says nothing. The priest coughs a few times to get his attention but Ole just sits there. Finally, the priest pounds three times on the wall. The drunk mumbles, "Ain't no use knockin, there's no paper on this side either."

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Pat is a drunk. A priest met him one day, and tells Pat, if he continues drinking like this, he will slowly get smaller and smaller until he turns into a mouse.

This frightens Pat. He goes home that night and asks his wife, "If you notice me getting smaller and smaller, will you kill the damn cat."

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Mulvaney goes to Switzerland to climb the Matterhorn. He hires a guide and they're caught in a snow slide.

Three hours later, a St. Bernard reaches them with a barrel of brandy under his chin. The guide shouts, "Hooray. Here comes man's best friend!"

"Yeah," says Mulvaney, "And look at the size of the dog that's bringing it!"