Just when Moshe thought the day couldn’t get any worse… it did.
Moshe was sitting at the bar, staring at his drink, tugging at his beard, his yarmulke askew. A large, trouble-making biker comes in and steps up next to him, grabs Moshe’s drink, gulps it down in one swig and menacingly says, “Thanks Jew Boy, whatcha gonna do about it?”
Moshe burst into tears.
“Come on, man,” the biker says,” I didn’t think you’d CRY. I can’t stand to see a grown man crying. What’s your problem?”
“This is the worst day of my life,” Moshe says. “I’m a complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. Then when I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don’t have any insurance! I left my wallet in the cab I took home. I found my wife in bed with the postman and then my dog bit me. So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all. I buy a drink, drop a cyanide capsule in and sit here watching the poison dissolve. Then you show up and drink the whole thing! But enough about me, how’s your day going?”