Roger Skoff writes:
There's an old joke about a concert that doesn't start on time and has the audience getting progressively and ever-more-vociferously restless until, finally - after however long -- a man in a tuxedo (probably the impresario) comes out on stage and announces that the performance has been canceled and that all ticket money will be refunded because the scheduled soloist has, unexpectedly and unfortunately died. No sooner has he finished his announcement when someone up in one of the far galleries stands-up; yells out "Give him an enema!" and sits back down. The (probably) impresario is frankly taken aback by this, and says to the apparent heckler "But he's dead": to which the other man again yells out "Give him an enema!" Now completely flustered, the impresario, takes a handkerchief out of his pocket, wipes his forehead, and asks: "But he's dead; what good can it do?" whereupon the other guy yells out "So? Can it hurt?"
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