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On my 60th birthday, I got a gift certificate from my wife.
> The certificate paid for a visit to a shaman living on a
> nearby reservation who was rumored to have a wonderful cure
> for erectile dysfunction.
> A fter being persuaded, I drove to the reservation, handed
> my ticket to the shaman, and wondered what I was in for. The
> old man slowly, methodically produced a potion, handed it to
> me, and with a grip on my shoulder, warned, 'This is
> powerful medicine and it must be respected. You take only a
> teaspoonful and then say '1-2-3.' When you do that,
> you will be longer and harder than you have ever been in
> your life and you can perform as long as you want.'
> I was encouraged. A s he walked away, I turned and asked,
> 'How do I stop the medicine from working?'
>
> 'Your partner must say '1-2-3-4,' the shaman
> responded. 'But when she does, the medicine will not
> work again until the next full moon. '
> I was eager to see if it worked. I went home, showered,
> shaved, to ok a spoonful of the medicine, and then invited
> Cara to join me in the bedroom. When she came in, I to ok off
> my clothes and said, '1-2-3!' Immediately, I was the
> manliest of men.
> Cara was excited and began throwing off her clothes. A nd
> then she asked, 'What was the 1-2-3 for?' A nd that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our
> sentences with a preposition.