Divorce

< An old man in Phoenix calls his son in New York and says, "I hate to ruin
< your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing;
< forty-five years of misery is enough."
< "Pop, what are you talking about," the son screams.
<
< "We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the old man said.
<
< "We're sick and tired of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this,
< so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her." And he hangs up.
<
< Frantic, the son calls his sister, and she explodes on the phone,
< "Like heck they're getting a divorce, I'll take care of this."
<
< She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at the old man, "You are NOT
< getting divorced! Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling
< my brother back and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then don't do a
< thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?" And she hangs up.
<
< The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says,
< "They're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way."