A Jewish man and a Chinese man were conversing.
The Jewish man commented upon what a wise people the Chinese are.
‘Yes,’ replied the Chinese man, ‘our culture is over four thousand years old. But you Jews are a very wise people, too.’
The Jewish man replied, ‘Yes, our culture is over five thousand years old.’
The Chinese man was incredulous.
‘That’s impossible,’ he replied.
‘Where did your people eat for a thousand years?’
A Jewish woman in a hospital tells the doctor she wants to be transferred to a different hospital.
The doctor says, ‘What’s wrong? Is it the food?’
‘No, the food is fine. I can’t kvetch [complain].’
‘Is it the room?’
‘No, the room is fine. I can’t kvetch.’
‘Is it the staff?’ ‘No, everyone on the staff is fine. I can’t kvetch.’
‘Then why do you want to be transferred?’ ‘I can’t kvetch!’
Two Jews are strolling down the street one day in the Pale of Settlement, when they happen to walk past a church. Above the door of the church they see a big sign that says ‘Convert and get ten rubles’.
Moishe stops, stares at the sign and turns to his friend: ‘Avreleh, I’m thinking of doing it.’
With that, he strides purposefully into the church.
Twenty minutes later he comes out with his head bowed.
‘So’, asks Avreleh, ‘did you get your ten rubles?’
Moishe looks at him contemptuously: ‘Is that all you people think about?’
My best friend is a Jewish Buddhist.
Believes you should renounce all material possessions but still keep the receipts. David Baddiel
Mr Dropkin was on a business trip in a small town and was giving his major presentation on the stage when he bent over and gave the loudest fart anyone had ever heard. He never showed up in that small town again. But many, many, many years later he was invited back. Undecided whether or not he could yet show his face, he tried to coax himself: ‘I’m so old now,’ he thought. ‘Surely no one will remember me from all those years ago. I don’t even look as I did then.’ So he decided to return.
All the same, when checking into the hotel he took the precaution of changing his name.
‘Have you ever visited our pretty town before?’ the hotel receptionist asked him, genially.
‘Only once,’ said Mr Dropkin. ‘But it was a long time ago and between you and me I haven’t returned until now because I’ve always been so embarrassed about a very painful experience that happened to me when I was here, and have feared that people might still remember it.’
‘Oh, what a shame!’ said the receptionist, before reassuring him, ‘you know, people have such short memories and they’re really only focused on their own lives – things are never quite so bad as you think. So I’m sure you’re being paranoid. I mean, how long ago was this incident?’
Dropkin said he didn’t exactly remember.
‘Well, was it before or after the Dropkin fart?’
A formerly religious young man is attending Oxford University. When his father, with a long beard, skullcap and side curls, comes to visit him, he is filled with shame and tells his father in no uncertain terms that he feels all his success at fitting in at one of Britain’s elite institutions will be undone by this spectacle of difference. Wanting to aid his son, his father heads for a barber and has his side curls removed, his beard shaved off, and he even takes off his skullcap. At that point his father bursts into tears. Profoundly moved, his son says, ‘But, Father, I never meant for you to lose your identity entirely. I just wanted you to minimise your difference, not obliterate it. I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.’ ‘No, no, it’s not that,’ says his father, ‘I’m crying because we lost India.’
Two rivals meet in the Warsaw train station. ‘Where are you going?’ says the first. ‘To Minsk,’ says the second. ‘To Minsk, eh? What a nerve! I know you’re telling me you’re going to Minsk because you want me to think that you’re really going to Pinsk. But it so happens that I know you really are going to Minsk. So ... why are you lying to me?’
Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home one night when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish, ‘Quawwwwk ... vus machst du ... yeah, du ... outside, standing like a shlemiel ... eh?’ Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears. He couldn’t believe it. The proprietor sprang out of the door and grabbed Meyer by the sleeve. ‘Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot.’ Meyer stood in front of an African Grey that cocked his little head and said, ‘Vus? Ir kent reddin Yiddish?’
Meyer turned excitedly to the store owner. ‘He speaks Yiddish?’ In a matter of moments, Meyer had placed five hundred dollars down on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him. All night he talked with the parrot in Yiddish. He told the parrot about his father’s adventures coming to America, about how beautiful his mother was when she was a young bride, about his family, about his years of working in the garment centre, about Florida. The parrot listened and commented. They shared some walnuts. The parrot told him of living in the pet store, how he hated the weekends. Finally, they both went to sleep. Next morning, Meyer began to put on his tefillin [phylacteries], all the while saying his prayers. The parrot demanded to know what he was doing, and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to do it too. Meyer went out and made a miniature set of tefillin for the parrot. The parrot wanted to learn to daven [pray], so Meyer taught him how to read Hebrew, and taught him every prayer in the Siddur with the appropriate nusach [version] for the daily services. Meyer spent weeks and months sitting and teaching the parrot the Torah, Mishnah and Gemara. In time, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and a Jew. On the morning of Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose, got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that shul [synagogue] was not a place for a bird, but the parrot made a terrific argument and was carried to shul on Meyer’s shoulder. Needless to say, they made quite…
Hebrew, and so on. All eyes were on the African Grey during services. The parrot perched on Meyer’s shoulder as each prayer and song passed – Meyer heard not a peep from the bird. He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath, ‘Daven!’ Nothing. ‘Daven ... Feigelleh, please! You can daven, so daven ... come on, everybody’s looking at you!’ Nothing. After Rosh Hashanah services were concluded, Meyer found that he owed his shul buddies and the rabbi several thousand dollars. He marched home quite upset, saying nothing. Finally, several blocks from the shul, the bird, happy as a lark, began to sing an old Yiddish song. Meyer stopped and looked at him. ‘You miserable bird, you cost me over four thousand dollars. Why? After I made your tefillin, taught you the morning prayers and taught you to…
Rabbi Altmann and his secretary were sitting in a coffeehouse in Berlin in 1935. ‘Herr Altmann,’ said his secretary, ‘I notice you’re reading Der Stürmer! I can’t understand why. A Nazi libel sheet! Are you some kind of masochist, or, God forbid, a self-hating Jew?’ ‘On the contrary, Frau Epstein. When I used to read the Jewish papers, all I learned about were pogroms, riots in Palestine, and people leaving the faith in America. But now that I read Der Stürmer, I see so much more: that the Jews control all the banks, dominate in the arts and are on the verge of taking over the entire world. You know – it makes me feel a whole lot better.’
‘Did you hear that Jews sunk the Titanic?’ ‘The Jews? I thought it was an iceberg.’ ‘Iceberg, Goldberg, Rosenberg, they’re all the same.’
Cohen lives in Berlin in 1933. He’s walking along the street when Hitler drives up in a Volkswagen and leaps out with a Luger pistol in his hand. ‘Get down in the gutter and eat the filth like the dog you are, Jew!’ he snarls. Cohen has no choice. He obeys and eats the filth. Hitler starts laughing at the sight so hard that he drops the gun. Cohen snatches it up. ‘Your turn, mein Führer,’ he says, and points to the gutter. Later that night, Cohen comes home. His wife asks how his day went. ‘Oh, so-so ... But you’ll never guess who I had lunch with today ...’
A Holocaust survivor gets up to heaven, meets God. He tells God a Holocaust joke: God doesn’t laugh. The survivor shrugs: I guess you had to be there.†
Two Jews are in front of a firing squad awaiting their execution. As they stand there, the leader of the firing squad asks them, ‘Do either of you have any last requests?’ The first Jew says, ‘There’s been a terrible mistake!’ The second Jew turns to him and whispers, ‘Morris, don’t make trouble.’
An Englishman, a Scotsman and a Jew are sitting on a park bench. The Englishman says, ‘I am so tired and thirsty, I must have beer.’ The Scotsman says, ‘I am so tired and thirsty, I must have whisky.’ The Jew says, ‘I am so tired and thirsty, I must have diabetes.’
A Jewish mother gives her son two neckties for his birthday. The boy hurries into his bedroom, rips off the tie he’s wearing, puts on one of the ties his mother has brought him, and hurries back. ‘Look, Mama! Isn’t it gorgeous?’ His mother responds, ‘What’s the matter? You don’t like the other one?’
A group of Jews are discussing the state of the world: ‘The economy is crashing and you know who they’ll blame for it, don’t you?’
‘Have you seen the things they’ve been saying about us on social media?’
‘Everyone’s an anti-Semite. Trust nobody.’
‘They always claim it’s our fault.’ ‘Or Israel’s fault.’
‘What’s wrong with you people? Why can’t you be a bit more positive? Me, I’m an optimist!’
‘You look pretty anxious for an optimist.’
‘You think it’s easy being an optimist?’
The citizens of Chelm [fantasy shtetl of Jewish joking lore] used to spend a good deal of time worrying – so much time, in fact, that they soon began to worry about how much they worried. The Grand Council of Wise Men convened a meeting to discuss all this worrying, and to find a solution for it. For seven days and seven nights the wise men of Chelm discussed the problem, until finally the chairman announced a solution: Yossel, the chimney sweep, would be the official Chelm Worrier. In return for one ruble a week, he would do the worrying for everybody in Chelm. The Grand Council members all agreed that this was the ideal solution, but just before the vote was taken, one of the sages rose to speak against the proposal. ‘Wait a minute,’ he announced. ‘If Yossel were to be paid one ruble a week, then what would he have to worry about?’
The astronomer was concluding a lecture: ‘Some believe the sun will die out within about four or five billion years.’ ‘How many years did you say?’ asked Mrs Shindler. ‘Four or five billion.’ ‘Phew!’ she replied, ‘I thought you said million!’
‘Mummy I saved money today!’ ‘How?’ ‘Instead of buying a ticket to take the bus home, I ran after it all the way!’ ‘You couldn’t have run after a taxi?’
‘Our cantor is magnificent,’ says the first. ‘What’s the big deal?’ says the second. ‘If I had his voice, I’d sing just as well.’
One winter in Soviet Moscow, the rumour went around that a meat delivery had arrived from the collective farm. Real sausage! Within minutes, a vast queue wound around Peshkov the butcher’s, like an anaconda around a cow. But after an hour, the manager came out and announced, ‘Comrades, there is less meat than we thought. Can all the Jews leave.’ Out go the Jews. Two hours later, the manager faces the crowd again: ‘I’m afraid there’s even less than we thought – only enough for Party members.’ Half the crowd shuffles off. An hour later: ‘There really is very little meat. Anyone who didn’t fight in the October Revolution must go.’
Now just two old men are left. Three hours later, as darkness falls, the manager emerges: ‘Comrades, there will be no sausage after all today.’ ‘You see,’ says one old man to the other, ‘The Jews get the best deal.’
Back in the shtetl, Moishe got a job looking out for signs of the coming of the Messiah: ‘It’s a boring job, and the pay’s terrible – but at least it’s steady work.’
The Jewish mother, upon receiving a phone call from her adult daughter, announces: ‘I’m very weak, I’m starving, I haven’t eaten for two weeks’ ‘Why ever not, Mother?!’ ‘Because I didn’t want that I should have my mouth full when you rang.’
The Italian says, ‘Last week, my wife and I had great sex. I rubbed her body all over with olive oil, we made passionate love, and she screamed for five minutes at the end.’ The Frenchman boasts, ‘Last week when my wife and I had sex, I rubbed her body all over with butter. We then made passionate love and she screamed for fifteen minutes.’ The Jewish man says, ‘Last week, my wife and I had sex. I rubbed her body all over with chicken fat, we made love, and she screamed for six hours.’ The others are stunned and ask, ‘What could you have possibly done to make your wife scream for six hours?’ ‘I wiped my hands on the curtains.’
Jake visited his parents. He said, ‘Finally, I’ve found my true love. Just for fun, I’m going to bring over three women and you can guess which one she is.’ The next day he brought three beautiful women, who sat on the sofa and chatted with his parents over a little cake. After they left, he challenged, ‘OK, guess which one I’m going to marry?’ ‘The one in the middle with the red hair,’ his mother replied instantly. ‘Right! But ... how did you know?’ asked Jake, amazed. ‘Simple,’ his mother said. ‘Her, we don’t like.’
Mother 1: My son loves me so much – he constantly buys me gifts. Mother 2: My son loves me so much – he always takes me on holiday. Jewish Mother: That’s nothing. My son loves me so much, he goes to see a special doctor five times a week to talk exclusively about me.
Mitzy springs to the telephone when it rings and listens with relief to the kindly voice in her ear. ‘How are you, darling?’ it asks. ‘What kind of a day are you having?’ ‘Oh, Mother,’ she says, breaking into bitter tears, ‘I’ve had such a bad day. The baby won’t eat and the washing machine broke down. I haven’t had a chance to go shopping, and besides, I’ve just sprained my ankle and I have to hobble around. On top of that, the house is a mess and I’m supposed to have two couples to dinner tonight.’ The mother is shocked and is at once all sympathy. ‘Oh, darling,’ she says, ‘sit down, relax and close your eyes. I’ll be over in half an hour. I’ll do your shopping, clean up the house and cook your dinner for you. I’ll feed the baby and I’ll call a repairman to fix the washing machine. Now stop crying. I’ll do everything. In fact, I’ll even call Simon at the office and tell him he ought to come home and help out for once.’ ‘Simon?’ says Mitzy. ‘Who’s Simon?’ ‘Why, Simon! Your husband!’ ‘No it isn’t. I’m married to Shlomo.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I have the wrong number.’ There’s a short pause before Mitzy says, ‘Does this mean you’re not coming over?’
Mrs Cohen is pleased to announce the birth of her son, Dr David Cohen.
Ninety-one-year-old Morris and Sophie, his eighty-nine-year-old wife of sixty-six years, go to their lawyer to get a divorce. Puzzled, the lawyer asks, ‘Why did you wait all this time if you were both so miserable for so long?’ Sophie replies, ‘We were waiting for the children to die.’
little Jewish boy is telling his mother about how he’s won a part in a play at school. His mother asks, ‘What is the part you will play, Saul?’ Saul responds, ‘I shall play the Jewish husband,’ to which the mother replies, ‘Pah! Well, you go right back to that teacher and tell her that you want a SPEAKING part!’
My ancestors wandered lost in the wilderness for forty years because even in biblical times, men would not stop to ask for directions.
A journalist asks a Pole, a Russian, an American and an Israeli the same question. He asks the Pole, ‘Excuse me, sir, what is your opinion on the meat shortage?’ The Pole replies, ‘What is meat?’ He asks the Russian, ‘Excuse me, sir, what is your opinion on the meat shortage?’ The Russian replies, ‘What is an opinion?’ He asks the American, ‘Excuse me, sir, what is your opinion on the meat shortage?’ The American replies, ‘What is a shortage?’ He then asks the Israeli, ‘Excuse me, sir, what is your opinion on the meat shortage?’ And the Israeli replies, ‘What is “excuse me”?’
Father (weakly): ‘Son. That smell. Is your mother making my favourite cheesecake?’ Son: ‘Yes, Dad.’ Father (even weaker): ‘Ah, if I could just have one more piece of your mum’s cheesecake. Would you get me a piece?’ Son: ‘OK, Dad.’ (Son leaves and walks towards the kitchen. After a while the son returns and sits down next to his father again.) Father: ‘Is that you, son?’
Son: ‘Yes, Dad.’ Father: ‘Did you bring the cheesecake?’ Son: ‘No, Dad.’ Father: ‘Why? It’s my dying wish!’ Son: ‘Mum says the cake is for after the funeral.’
Moshe was on his deathbed and raised his head gently. ‘Mendel, are you there?’ ‘Yes, Moshe, I am here.’ A moment later Moshe said, ‘Izzi, are you there?’ His son, Izzi, assured him he was by his side. ‘Jessica,’ said the ailing Moshe, ‘are you there?’ ‘I’m here, Poppa,’ said Jessica, taking his hand. Moshe raised himself on his elbow. ‘Then who the hell is minding the shop?’
A Jewish grandmother is watching her grandchild playing on the beach when a huge wave comes and takes him out to sea. She pleads, ‘Please, God, save my only grandson. I beg of you, bring him back.’ A big wave comes and washes the boy back on to the beach, good as new. She looks up to heaven and says, ‘He had a hat!’
A man brings some very fine material to a tailor and asks him to make a pair of trousers. When he comes back a week later, the trousers are not ready. Two weeks later, they are still not ready. Finally, after six weeks, the trousers are ready. The man tries them on. They fit perfectly. Nonetheless, when it comes time to pay, he can’t resist a jibe at the tailor. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘it took God only six days to make the world. And it took you six weeks to make just one pair of trousers.’
‘Ah,’ the tailor says. ‘But look at this pair of trousers, and look at the world...’
Moishe is driving in Jerusalem. He’s late for a meeting and he’s looking and failing to find a parking place. In desperation, he turns towards heaven and says, ‘Lord, if you find me a parking place, I promise that I’ll eat only kosher, respect Shabbos and all the holidays.’ Miraculously, a place opens up just in front of him. He turns his face up to heaven and says, ‘Never mind, I just found one!’
A man was boasting about his rabbi: ‘My rabbi is so modest about his piety. If he eats, it is only to hide from others the fact that he is fasting.’
An old Jew was refused service in a restaurant. ‘We don’t serve Jews here,’ said the waiter. ‘Don’t let that bother you,’ replied the old man. ‘I don’t eat Jews.’
The rabbi was an avid golfer and played at every opportunity. He was so addicted to the game that if he didn’t play he would get withdrawal symptoms. One Yom Kippur the rabbi thought to himself, ‘What’s it going to hurt if I go out during the recess and play a few rounds? Nobody will be the wiser, and I’ll be back in time for services.’ Sure enough, at the conclusion of the morning service, the rabbi snuck out of the synagogue and headed straight for the golf course. Looking down upon the scene were Moses and God. Moses said, ‘Look how terrible – a Jew on Yom Kippur. And a rabbi besides!’ God replied, ‘Watch. I’m going to teach him a lesson.’ Out on the course, the rabbi stepped up to the first tee. When he hit the ball, it careened off a tree, struck a rock, skipped across a pond and landed in the hole for a HOLE IN ONE! Seeing all this, Moses protested, ‘God, this is how you’re going to teach him a lesson? He got a hole in one!’ ‘Sure,’ said God, ‘but who’s he going to tell?’