Consider the story of the two octogenarians on a park bench. One asks the other: Do you believe in reincarnation?

Well, Joe, replies Harry, Ive never really thought much about it.

Maybe we ought to start thinking about it, says Joe. One of us is going to go first. Lets agree that the one who is left behind will come to this park bench every Wednesday at 11:00 a.m., and the one who has departed will find a way of getting a message to him at that time about reincarnation and all those other things that are beyond our ken.

Harry agrees.

One month later, Joe dies peacefully in his sleep. Every week for several months, Harry takes up his station at the park bench at 11:00 a.m.

Then one Wednesday, at the appointed hour, he hears a voice, as though from afar.

Harry, Harry, can you hear me? the voice says. Its Joe.

Joe, for heavens sake, what is it like?

You wouldnt believe it, Harry, about the only thing you do up here is make love. They wake you up at seven in the morning and you make love until noon. After lunch and a nap, youre at it again right through until dinner time.

Good gosh, Joe, what are you and where are you?

Im a rabbit in Montana!

From: Cousins, Norman (1990), The laughter prescription, Saturday Evening Post, 262(6), 32-40

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