An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of
Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each
one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and
orders three more. The bartender asks him, "You know, a pint goes flat
after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time."
The Irishman replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in
America, the other in Australia, and I'm here in Dublin. When we all
left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the day
when we drank together." The bartender admits that this is a nice
custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same
way: He orders three pints and drinks them in turn. One day, he comes
in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall
silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the
bartender says, "I don't want to
intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your
great loss."

The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his
eye and he laughs. "Oh, no," he says, "everyone's fine. I've just quit
drinking."