Billy was from Alabama, an ol' Southern Baptist.
He loved the race track. One day he was betting on the ponies, and losing his shirt, when he noticed a priest step out onto the track and bless the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the 4th race. Surprise, this horse -- a very long shot -- won the race.
Billy was most interested to see what the priest did in the next race. Sure enough, he watched the priest placing a blessing on the forehead of one of the horses going in the following race.
Billy made a beeline for the window and placed a small bet on the horse.
Again, even though another long shot, the horse the priest had blessed won the race.
This continued, and by the last race, he knew his wildest dreams were going to come true. He made a quick stop at the ATM, withdrew big money and awaited the priest's blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on. True to his pattern, the priest stepped out onto the track before the last race and blessed the forehead, eyes, ears and hooves of one of the horses.
Billy bet every cent, and watched the horse come in dead last.
He was dumbfounded.
He made his way to the track, and when he found the priest, he asked: "What happened, Father? All day you blessed horses and they won. The last race, you blessed a horse and he lost. Now I've lost all my savings, thanks to you!
The priest nodded wisely and said, "That's the problem with you Protestants ... you can't tell the difference between a simple blessing and the Last Rites."