Oy!: The Ultimate Book of Jewish Jokes (16 page)

Although Miriam Cohen had a good job designing clothes in a top shop in Manhattan, she wasn’t satisfied with being single. In fact she and her mother, Freda, shared the same wish—Miriam should marry a wealthy man, please God.

One day, Miriam came home from work with eyes red and sore from crying and went straight to Freda. “Mom, I’m pregnant. Please don’t get upset—the father is my boss.”

Miriam then began to cry again and Freda had to stay with her most of the night. The next morning, an angry Freda went with Miriam to see her boss.

“
Nu
,” she said. “So what’s going to happen to Miriam now?”

Miriam’s boss was a handsome, single, well-dressed man of thirty-two. He replied, “Please take a seat Mrs. Cohen and don’t worry. I’m taking care of all the arrangements. Before the baby is born, Miriam will have the best doctor money can buy. Later on, she’ll go to the best hospital in New York and after the baby is born, I will set up a trust fund for Miriam. She will receive $1,000 each week until the baby reaches twenty-one. I can’t do better than that.”

Freda was initially taken aback by this news but then responded, “Tell me, God forbid Miriam should have a miscarriage, but if she does, would you give her a second chance?”

A Mother’s Lament:

“Is one Nobel Prize so much to ask for from a child, after all I’ve done?"

Some motherly quotes you might not be aware of:

I don’t care what you’ve discovered, you could have still written!

(Columbus’ Jewish mother)

Of course I’m proud you invented the electric light bulb. Now be a good boy and turn it off and go to bed.

(Thomas Edison’s Jewish mother)

But it’s your Bar Mitzvah photo! Couldn’t you do something about your hair?

(Albert Einstein’s Jewish mother)

That’s a nice story. So now tell me where you’ve
really
been for the last forty years.

(Jonah’s Jewish mother)

Q: What kind of cigarettes do Jewish mothers smoke?

A: Gefiltered.

Q: What is the most common disease transmitted by Jewish mothers?

A: Guilt.

Q: Why do Jewish mothers make such good parole officers?

A: They never let anyone finish a sentence.

Q: What is a genius?

A: An average pupil with a Jewish mother.

Letter to my son:

My dear darling Moshe and that-person-you-married-against-my-wishes,

Happy New Year and well over the Fast to you. Please don’t worry about me—I’m well, considering I am having trouble breathing and eating. All I want is for you to have a nice holiday thousands of miles away from your mother.

Please find attached to this letter my last $20. I am just hoping that you will spend it on my grandchildren, poor babies—God knows their mother never seems to buy them anything nice. Maybe you’ll buy some food, as they look so thin in the photos you sent me.

Thank you Moshe for the flowers you sent me on my birthday. To save you money, I have put them in the freezer in the hope that they will last until my funeral. And please don’t think of sending me any more money. I realize you will need it yourself for your next who-knows-where-in-the-world expensive holiday.

I lost my walking stick last week beating off muggers, but don’t worry—when I finish writing this letter, I shall crawl back to bed. I am even beginning to get used to the cold since the landlord turned off the heating. The frost helps to numb the constant pain.

Please give my love to my darling grandchildren and give my regards to “her.”

Love from your devoted mother.

There are two theories on how to successfully argue with a Jewish mother.

Unfortunately, neither of them works.

If Mona Lisa’s mother were Jewish, she’d have said, “Mona,
bubbeleh,
after all the money your father and I spent on your braces, that’s the biggest smile you can give us?"

You know your mother is Jewish when:

She cries at your
bris
—because you’re not engaged already

She shouts
“Mazeltov!"
—every time she hears some dishes break.

She does all her shopping for next Passover as soon as Passover ends— because she can buy the essential items at sale prices.

She calls you many times a day before 10 a.m.—because she wants to ask you how your day is going.

She takes an extra suitcase with her on vacation—because where else can she put the hotel’s soaps, shampoos, bath oils, shower hats and shoe shiners?

She cries at your Bar Mitzvah—because you’re not engaged already.

She goes to her doctor for every minor ailment—so she can show your photo to the young single doctors.

She won’t let you leave home without a coat and some advice on dating—because “mother knows best.”

She takes restaurant leftovers home with her—“I should throw away?"

She cries on your twenty-first birthday—because you’re not engaged already.

She serves you chopped liver every week—because just once, when you were young, you told her you loved chopped liver.

She makes an extra Shabbes table setting—because you just might have met your
beshayrt
(intended) on the way over.

She gets mad with you if you buy jewelry at full price—because she knows someone who could have got it cheaper in Tel Aviv.

She encourages you to do whatever you want with your life—as long as it includes grandchildren.

She’s regularly heard muttering, “Is one grandchild too much to ask for?"

Beckie, Sadie and Hannah are bragging about their sons.

Beckie says, “My son is very successful. He is the best lawyer in New York.”

Sadie says, “My son has done better than that. He is the best doctor in New York.”

Hannah says, “My son has not done that well. He does not have a very good job and he is gay. But he has these two great boyfriends—one is the best lawyer in New York and the other is the best doctor in New York.”

Harry Goldberg has been elected the next President of the United States—the first Jewish boy to reach the White House. He is very proud and phones his mother in New York to invite her to the inauguration. “Momma, guess what! I’ve just been elected President, won’t you come to my inauguration?"

“Harry! You know I hate trains. I can’t face the journey all the way to Washington. Maybe next time.”

“Momma. You will take no train. Air Force One will collect you. The journey will be over in thirty minutes. Come to my inauguration, please—”

“Harry, I hate hotels. The non-kosher food. No, maybe next time.”

“Momma. You will stay in the White House, with a kosher chef all to yourself. Please come.”

“Harry! I have nothing to wear.”

“I have someone on his way over to you now to take you to Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s to make you look perfect. You must come.”

“OK, OK, I suppose I’ll come.”

Inauguration Day comes. Mother is in the front row, next to the Secretary of State. Harry is called up to become the next to take the oath of office as President. Mother digs the Secretary of State in the ribs and says, “Do you see that boy Harry? His brother is a very successful doctor.”

“My son,” says Yetta, “is a physicist.”

“My son,” says Sadie, “is president of an insurance company.”

“My son,” says Beckie, “is the head of a law firm and president of the Law Society.”

“My son,” says Hannah, “is a rabbi.”

“A rabbi? What kind of career is that for a Jewish boy?”

Three mothers are sitting around and bragging about their children.

Freda says, “Benny graduated with a first-class honors degree from Harvard and he’s now a doctor making $250,000 a year in New York.”

Kitty says, “Sidney graduated with a first-class honors degree from Yale and he’s now a lawyer making $500,000 a year and he lives in the City.”

Ethel says, “Abe never did well in school, never went to college but he now makes $1,000,000 a year working as a sports repairman.”

The other two women ask, “So what’s a sports repairman?"

Ethel replies, “He fixes hockey games, football games, baseball games.”

Rifka and Beckie are talking about their children. Rifka asks Beckie how her daughter is. Beckie says, “Not too good. My daughter just divorced her husband. He was a doctor.”

Rifka replies, “Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

Beckie continues, “Yes, it is sad. Her first husband, whom she divorced three years ago, was a dentist. But she is OK now, she is dating a handsome lawyer.”

Rifka replies, “A dentist, a doctor and a lawyer.
Oy Vay!
All this
naches
from just one daughter!

Four old school friends were having coffee. The first, a Catholic woman, says, “My son is now a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him ‘Father.’"

The second Catholic woman then says, “My son is a bishop. Whenever he walks into a room, people call him ‘Your Grace.’ ”

The third Catholic says, “My son is a Cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, he’s called ‘Your Eminence.’ ”

The fourth woman, a Jewish lady, just sat there and sipped her coffee in silence. So the first three women give her this subtle “Well—?”

So she replies, “My son is six feet, six inches, has plenty of money, broad square shoulders, terribly handsome, dresses very well, has a tight muscular body, tight hard butt and a very nice bulge. Whenever he walks into a room, women gasp, ‘Oh, my God.’ ”

Bette and Freda are talking about their sons, both of whom were serving prison sentences. Bette says:
“Oy,
my son Michael has it so hard. He is locked away in maximum security, he never even speaks to anyone or sees the light of day. He has no exercise and he lives a horrible life.”

Freda says: “Well, my son David is in minimum security. He exercises every day, he spends time in the prison library, takes some classes, and writes home each week.

“Oy”
says Bette, “You must get such
naches
from David.”

Hetty was talking to her friend Sadie. “My son Moshe,” said Hetty proudly, “has master’s degrees in psychology, psychiatry and economics.”

“You must be proud of him,” said Sadie.

“Yes, I am,” replied Hetty. “He can’t get a job—but at least he knows why.”

Sadie is out shopping in Chestnut Hill when she bumps into Beckie, an old friend of hers. Beckie is looking after her two grandchildren while their mother does some shopping on her own.

Sadie says, “Oh Beckie, what beautiful children, how old are they?”

“Well,” Beckie says proudly, “The lawyer is six months and the doctor is two years.”

Jewish mothers don’t differ from any other mothers in the world when it comes to bragging about their sons. Rivkah, trying to outdo another when it came to opportunities available to their just-graduated sons said, “My Irving has had so many fine interviews, his resume is now in its fifth printing.”