"Mister, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap wicked women, too much alcohol, and a contempt for your fellow man."
"Well, I'll be damned," the drunk muttered, returning to his paper.
The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized.
"I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?"
"I don't have it, Father. I was just reading that the Pope does."