A Texan who got to brooding over the fact that he was living in only the second largest state, went up to Alaska and asked: “How do I get to be an Alaskan?”
The bartender in the Last Chance Saloon, figuring on having a little fun with him, said: “Podnuh, you can’t be a full-blooded Alaskan until you’ve downed a pint of whiskey at one gulp, danced with an Eskimo and shot a polar bear.”
“That’s for me,” said the Texan, and ordered the pint of whiskey. He got it down at one gulp, although his eyes were glazing slightly as he lurched from the saloon. The boys waited for him until almost midnight, when he stumbled through the doors all scratched and ripped and bloody.
“Okay,” he said, “okay, I’m gonna be an Alaskan. Now where’s the Eskimo I’m supposed to shoot?”
（トークラインのご利用者様にお送りしている１２月８日付のHANDOUTの一部で、The Reader’s Digestからの転載です）