[Mortis]

A man walks into a bar, sits down, and starts dialing numbers like there’s a telephone in his hand, then puts his palm up against his cheek and begins talking. Suspicious, the bartender walks over and tells him that this is a very tough neighborhood and he doesn’t need any trouble. The man says, “You don’t understand. I’m very hi-tech. I had a phone installed in my hand because I was tired of carrying my mobile.”

The skeptical bartender says, “OK, prove it.”

The man then dials up a number and holds his hand out to the bartender. The bartender talks into the hand and carries on a conversation. ”That’s incredible!” says the bartender. “I would never have believed it!”

“Yeah,” says the man, “I can keep in touch with my broker, my family, my friends, without having to tote around a bulky mobile phone. By the way, where is the mens room?”

The bartender directs him to the men’s room. The man goes in and twenty minutes go by and he has not returned. Fearing the worst, given the bad area of town, the bartender goes into the men’s room to check on the man. The man is spread-eagle up against the wall. His pants are pulled down and he has a roll of toilet paper up his unmentionable body part that we defecate from.

“Oh my God!” says the bartender. “Did they rob you? Are you hurt?”

The man turns and says: “No, no, I’m OK. I’m just waiting for a fax.”