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, rumoured to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.
After 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. As he walked away, I 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, took a
spoonful of the medicine and invited Cara to join me.
When she came in, I took off my clothes and said, '1-2-3!' Immediately,
I was the manliest of men.
Cara was excited and began throwing off her clothes and then she asked,
'What was the 1-2-3 for?'
And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with
a preposition!