Without warning, a hurricane blew across the Caribbean. The luxurious yacht soon foundered in the huge waves and sank without a trace. Only two survivors, the boat’s owner and its steward, managed to swim to the closest island.
Observing that it was utterly uninhabited, the steward burst into tears, wringing his hands and moaning that they’d never be heard of again. Meanwhile, his companion leaned back against a palm tree and relaxed.
“Dr. Karpman, how can you be so calm?” moaned the distraught steward. “We’re going to die on this godforsaken island. They’re never going to find us.”
“Let me tell you something, Mitchell,” began Karpman with a smile. “Four years ago I gave five hundred thousand dollars to the United Way, and five hundred thousand dollars to the United Jewish Appeal. Three years ago I did very well in the stock market, so I contributed eight hundred and fifty thousand to each. Last year business was good, so both charities got a million dollars.”
“So?” screamed the wretched steward.
“It’s time for their annual fund drives,” the yachtsman pointed out, “I’m certain they’ll find me.”