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A tourist is sightseeing in a European city. She comes upon the tomb of Beethoven, and begins reading the commemorative plaque, only to be distracted by a low scratching noise, as if something was rubbing against a piece of paper. She collars a passing native and asks what the scratching sound is. The local person replies, "Oh, that is Beethoven. He's decomposing."
I hate going to weddings, because the old lady next to you always whispers in your ear, "You're next." So I started doing the same to them at funerals, "You're next."
