Do-Over…

I love telling jokes. And although I may be tooting my own horn here, I think I’m pretty good at telling them. (You know, I mean if they’re funny.)

Yesterday I was telling a good friend a joke over the phone.  It’s a joke I’ve loved for a while. It’s one of those “story with a punchline” types of jokes. I’ve told it tens of times with mostly positive results. But for some reason, I lost track in the middle of the joke and completely flubbed and ruined it. I felt like a total loser.  It was one of those moments that I knew the joke was lost before my audience did.  And I’ve been obsessing about it for the past 24 hours.

I have a compulsion to tell it correctly — so here I go:

A guy dies and goes to heaven. He’s greeted by an archangel at the gates to give him a brief orientation to show him around.  They’re  floating everywhere in the firmament above, and the archangel is pointing out landmarks right and left. They pass a beautiful mansion on the right side. Absolutely huge. Golden spires and purple flags adorning the entryway.

Our dead guy sees the mailbox — which is clearly marked “J. HENDRIX.”

“Wow — is this… is this Jimi Hendrix’s place?” he asks, awestruck. He is told that it is, and that Jimi is a friendly guy whom he’ll probably run into at the gym or something.

Further down the road he sees another mansion — far bigger than the Hendrix one. It’s gleaming white, beautifully adorned with platinum towers. The mailbox on this one says “J. LENNON.”

“And that’s — that’s John Lennon’s place?!?” He’s answered in the affirmative.  He’s told that John teaches the residents of heaven about music and philosophy.  They travel onward.

Finally, they get to this palatial estate that towers over the other two mansions. The walls are made of many colors. The doors and roofs are carved from marble. The pathways are polished onx lined with emeralds. And, sure enough, there’s a jewel-encased mailbox at the front. On this one, surprisingly, was one name: “BONO.”

“I don’t get it,” said the man, puzzled. “I could have sworn that Bono was still alive when I passed away.  Did something happen? Is this the house they’re reserving for him?”

“Oh, no…” says the archangel. “This house actually belongs to God. He only thinks that he’s Bono…”

Thanks everyone! I’m here all week…