Settling unhappily into his Super Bowl seat, Himalayan high behind the end zone, Joe spots an empty seat low and on the 50-yard line.
He descends to it and asks the man seated next to him why the wonderful seat is unoccupied.
The man says: It’s mine.
I was supposed to come with my wife, but she died.
This is the first Super Bowl since 1967 we have not attended together.
Joe says: But couldn’t you find a friend or relative to come with you today?
The man replies: No, they’re all at the funeral.