Just when Moshe thought the day couldn’t get any worse… it did.

Moshe was sitting at the bar, staring at his drink, tugging at his beard, his yarmulke askew. A 
large, trouble-making biker comes in and steps up next to him, grabs Moshe’s drink, gulps it
 down in one swig and menacingly says, “Thanks Jew Boy, whatcha gonna do
 about it?”

Moshe burst into tears.

“Come on, man,” the biker says,” I didn’t think you’d CRY. I
 can’t stand to see a grown man crying. What’s your problem?”

“This is the worst day of my life,” Moshe says. “I’m a 
complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. Then when I
 went to  the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don’t have 
any  insurance! I left my wallet in the cab I took home. I found my wife in
 bed with the postman and then my dog bit me. So I came to this bar to work
 up the courage to put an end to it all.

 I buy a drink, drop a cyanide capsule in and sit here watching the
 poison dissolve. Then you show up and drink the whole thing! But enough 
about me, how’s your day going?”