John Delach

I loved this joke, a joke I could tell whenever I wished that was totally suitable for mixed company.

The Joke:

After the pope died, the College of Cardinals assembled in Rome and voting began to elect his successor. It soon became evident that three cardinals were all viable candidates, but none of them could gain the needed majority of votes. After two months of black smoke following unsuccessful balloting, morale became desperate. The senior cardinals decided that a select committee would interview the three candidates, two of whom were American and one who was Polish.

First up was Cardinal Jones. He was asked, “What is the holiest day in the Church’s calendar?”

Jones replied, “Oh, the Fourth of July when we go to the beach and watch the fireworks.”

So much for Jones who was escorted out.

Cardinal Smith was next and he replied, “That would be Thanksgiving when we all get together and consume a mountain of food while watching football on TV.” Good bye Smith.

Last, was Cardinal Komorowiski: “Tell us cardinal, what is the holiest day in the Church’s calendar?

The cardinal replied, “Easter Sunday, of course.”

The relief among the committee was audible. “Yes, yes,” replied the chairman who then asked, “Why is it the holiest day?”

“Because that is the day that Christ rises from the dead, his guardian angel rolls back the stone. Jesus leaves his tomb, but, if he sees his own shadow, we have six more weeks of lent.”  

When My Joke Turned on Me

I was out one night at a business dinner with a group of twelve people that included wives. It was a joyous occasion where the wine and champaign flowed freely and people began telling their favorite stories. I carefully waited for a lull when I began telling my favorite joke confident that it would bring the house down.

When I reached the parts about Jones and Smith, the realization hit me square in the head that I was doomed. My joke was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it. I was so sure of myself and my story when I began that I had ignored a simple fact that doomed me: I was telling it at a dinner in London where nobody had ever heard about Ground Hog’s Day.