Sisyphus walks into a bar and wedges his boulder against the barstool next to his.
"What'll ya have?" asks the barkeep.
"Whiskey, double, neat" he says while struggling to get out of his overcoat.
While his arms are pinned, a priest, a rabbi, and a preacher walk by and accidentally bump his boulder, which rolls back out the door.
He throws his money on the bar, slams the whiskey, and starts to bolt out after it.
He looks at the bartender; the bartender looks at him. The bartender shrugs; Sisyphus shrugs.
"Fuck it! Two more of the same." He slaps his credit card on the bar. "Actually ... line 'em up and keep 'em coming."
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