One day, while having a latte at my favorite Starbucks, I noticed a most unusual Italian funeral. Instead of one hearse, there were two, one after the other, moving slowly down the street. Behind the hearse, there walked a man with a dog an a leash. Perhaps 80 other men walked behind him, single file.

As this was very unusual, I went up to the man with the dog and asked about it as respectfully as I could. I don’t want to intrude on your sorrow, sir, but I couldn’t help notice this funeral procession. Who passed away, if I may ask. The man looked at me and said that the first hearse contained his wife. “She’d gotten real mad at the dog, and the dog attacked her and killed her.” “I see,” I said, but what about the second hearse? After a pause, the man said, “That’s my mother-in-law. She started to beat the dog, and and the dog went and killed her too.” There then passed a moment of silent brotherhood between me and the fellow.

“Can I borrow the dog?”

“Get in line.”

Robert Buxbaum, January 7, 2014. It’s another shaggy dog story. Long story, sort of pointless; common phrase at the end. It’s funny because it’s a mini-mystery. All the clues were there from the start. Every now and again, I post jokes: engineering jokes, buddhist jokes, a dwarf joke and a Canadian joke, art, architecture.