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I was about to tell that joke, then I read his half assed weak way of telling it so I decided not to. It's better in person anyway.
So this kid graduates from highschool and his grandfather comes to visit him. The grandfather comes in and asks where his grandson is. The parents say, "O, upstairs on that damn computer." So grandpa goes upstairs, walks into the room and shuts the door behind him. He says, "son, what are you doing with your life? Hell, when I was your age, I went to Paris, went to the Moulin Rouge, got shitfaced pissed on the bar, beat the shit out of a bouncer and fucked one of the dancers. You need to go out and live a little."
So with that bit of advice, grandpa leaves.
He comes back at the end of the summer anxious to see if his grandson heeded his advice at all. He walks into the house and asks the parents where his grandson is. They say "Still upstairs, just like the last time you were here." So he goes upstairs, goes into the room and his grandson is there layed up on his bed. Black eyes, stitches, broken leg and a broken arm. Grandpa asks the kid what the hell happened and the kid proceeds to explain to him that, "Well, I took your advice grandpa. I went to Paris, went to Moulin Rouge, got shitfaced drunk, tried to fuck a dancer, and pissed on a bouncer. Then they beat the living shit out of me!"
The old man doesn't say anything for a moment, just kind of takes it all in.
Then he says, "Well, I guess when I went I was with the SS."