A couple goes to Mexico City on vacation and eats at a famous local restaurant.
The waiter tells them they have a delicious special every Sunday, so the couple orders the special.
With great fanfare, the waiter brings out a large silver serving platter with two huge steaming rounds of meat, juices dripping.
It smells delicious and tastes even better.
The couple is delighted with their meal, and the husband asks the waiter what fabulous meat was in the dish.
"Senor," he explains, "each Saturday night, we have the bullfights, and that was the bull's ваlls you ate."
The couple is a bit taken aback by what they have just eaten, but it was delicious, so they get over it.
Six months later, the couple returns to Mexico City and decides to go to the same restaurant.
Feeling adventuresome, they order the same dish.
Once again, with great fanfare, the waiter brings out the huge silver serving dish and places it on the table.
But this time, there are two tiny pieces of meat, barely enough for one.
The man says, "Excuse me, but the last time we were here and ordered this dish, it was huge, more than enough for two. Why is this portion so small?"
The waiter smiles and replies, "Well, you see, senor, sometimes the bull wins!"
The other day I was eating in an Italian restaurant when I accidentally spilled some spaghetti sauce on my favorite white sweater.
I wasn't too distressed, though, because Mr. Wong down on High Street has been doing my laundry for years, and I knew that he could remove just about any stain and get it out like it'd never been there.
So I took the sweater down to Wong's Laundry and dropped it off; Mr. Wong said he'd probably be able to have it cleaned by Thursday. So on Thursday afternoon after work I stopped by Wong's again.
Mr. Wong looked quite distressed when he saw me. He brought out the sweater and, apologizing profusely, explained that somehow this stain was beyond even his power to expunge.
And sure enough, though fainter than before, there was still a distinct red stain on the sweater. In an attempt to make up for his failure, Mr. Wong offered to send the sweater to his brother across town, who had been in the laundry business for an even longer time, and who might have a clue as to the method of removal of this extraordinarily persistent stain.
The elder Wong brother would rush it through at no extra charge, and should have it looking as white and clean as new by Friday. So on Friday I went back to Wong's to pick up my sweater, but when I arrived, Mr. Wong regretfully informed me that his brother, too, had failed to remove the red blotch. "No charge," said Wong, "but you must take sweater elsewhere to clean.
The Moral: ... Two Wongs cannot make a white."