Heard this joke at the Grand poker room in Tunica today: The coach had put together the perfect team for the New Orleans Saints. The only thing missing was a good quarterback. He had scouted all the colleges and even the Canadian and European Leagues, but he couldn't find a ringer who could ensure a Super Bowl victory. Then one night, while watching CNN, he saw a war-zone scene in Afghanistan. In one corner of the background, he spotted a young Afghan Muslim soldier with a truly incredible arm. He threw a hand-grenade straight into a window from 80 yards away. Then he threw another from 50 yards down a chimney, and then hit a passing car going 80 miles per hour. "I've got to get this guy!" coach said to himself. "He has the perfect arm!" So, he brings the young Afghan to the States and teaches him the great game of football, and sure enough, the Saints go on to win the Super Bowl. The young Afghan is hailed as a hero of football, and when the coach asks him what he wants, all the young man wants to do is call his mother. "Mom," he says into the phone, "I just won the Super Bowl!" "I don't want to talk to you," the old Muslim woman says. "You deserted us. You are not my son!" "Mother, I don't think you understand," pleads the son, "I've just won the greatest sporting event in the world!" "No! Let me tell you," his mother retorts. "At this very moment there are gun shots all around us. The neighborhood is a pile of rubble. Your two brothers were beaten within an inch of their lives last week, and I have to keep your sister in the house so she doesn't get raped!" The old lady pauses, then tearfully says, "I will never forgive you for making us move to New Orleans!"
