Old Jews Telling Jokes (4 page)

“Well, I’ll have you know,” says Sidney, “I used to work at the Sahara Forest.”

The lumberjack looks at him and says, “You mean the Sahara Desert?”

“Oh, well,
now!”

Alan Kessler, born in Brooklyn, is the CEO of an international Japanese construction and real estate company. He also paints and practices photography.

So Irving is sitting at home reading the
Forvitz
and he sees a little ad that says “Round-trip cruise to Miami, $35.”

And he sees a phone number there, so he picks up the phone and he calls the number and the guy answers and he says, “Is this for real?”

“Yes, this is for real.”

“Well, what do I do?”

“When do you want to go?”

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Well, you just pack a little bag, you stand in front of your building, and we’ll pick you up and take you to the boat.”

So Irving packs a little bag, and the next morning he stands in front of his building. Up pulls a van. Two big guys get out, they grab Irving, they throw him in the van. They take his little bag, they throw it in the van, they drive to the Hudson River, pier 36. They take Irving out, they schlep him out onto the pier, they put him into a galley ship and tie him to an oar.

Suddenly, this big guy comes out with a whip and he starts whipping everybody and they start to row. He’s yelling, “Row!” and he’s whipping them.

This goes on for three days, the rowing and the whipping, and finally they’re pulling into the port of Miami.

Irving turns to the guy next to him and says, “You ever do this before?”

“I do it every year.”

“Well, maybe you can tell me something.”

“What’s that?”

“How much do you tip the whipper?”

Michael Miller is a television and documentary writer/producer and practical joker. He’s been an Angeleno, a New Yorker, and a Buffalonian. A lifetime appreciator of Jewish humor, since long before his bar mitzvah, he learned about sex from Belle Barth and life from Lenny Bruce. Or maybe it was vice versa.

This man has been stranded on a desert island for many, many years. Every day he goes out to the beach and looks out on the horizon, looking for some action.

One day he sees a steamer in the distance. He’s so excited! It’s the first sign of life he’s seen in years. He builds a little fire by the shore and throws some leaves on it, so there’ll be smoke rising. He starts jumping around, waving his hands.

Sure enough, the steamer stops, turns, and starts heading toward him. He’s so thrilled! He sees the small lifeboat come off, six guys jump in it, and they’re paddling to him.

He runs out to meet them. “I’m so happy you came here.”

They say, “Sir, we’ll take you wherever you want to go. We’re here to save you.”

He says, “That’s great, but first I want to show you my island. I’ve lived here many years, so I’ve done a few things to it.” He shows them the grove of fruit trees that he’s planted from the seeds of fruits that have washed ashore. He shows them his house, a little shack, which he’s built and lived in. He takes them to another shed and says, “This is my synagogue. This is where I pray.”

One of the guys looks around and sees that there’s another shed in the distance. He says, “What’s that over there?”

He says, “That’s the other synagogue. I don’t go there.”

Richard Levine was born in Brooklyn (a hotbed of talent for joke tellers of this generation). He is semiretired from his business of printing forms and labels for clinical drug studies for the pharmaceutical industry. He has permanently relocated from New Jersey to West Palm Beach, Florida.

A woman calls up her friend. She says, “Becky, I understand you got a new apartment.”

Becky says, “I do. I got a pretty apartment. Why don’t you come visit?”

“I’d love to visit, but I don’t know where you live. You gotta give me directions.”

“I live on 1486 Eighty-sixth Street. You’ll take the train, get off at Eighty-sixth Street. You’ll see a big apartment complex, 1486. Outside, you’ll see a double door. With your right elbow, press down the handle from the door, push open the door, and you’ll be in what we call a vestibule.

“In the vestibule’s a list of bells. I’m apartment 4B. With the left elbow, press 4B; it’ll ring upstairs. As soon as I hear the ring, I’ll buzz you.

“When you hear the buzz, with your right elbow press on the inside of the door, push open the door, go straight ahead to the elevator, and with the left elbow press UP.

“You’ll get in the elevator; with the right elbow press 4 for the fourth floor. The door will open up; you’ll go straight into my apartment, 4B.

“You’ll ring the doorbell with the right elbow. Give it a couple of knocks with the left elbow; I’ll answer the door. You’ll come in; we’ll have coffee.”

Her friend interrupts, fed up. “What kind of directions are these, with the elbow? The left elbow, the right elbow. What’s with the elbow?”

Becky says, “What? You’re coming empty-handed?”

Lawrence Goldberg was born in Detroit and learned most of his favorite jokes from his aunt, who frequently visited his family’s apartment with new material.

Two beggars were sitting outside the Tivoli fountain in Rome. One beggar had his hat in front of him, decorated with a crucifix. The other had his hat in front of him, his with a Star of David.

People are walking by, and they’re all putting their donations into the hat with the crucifix.

A priest walks by, and he sees the two of them sitting there, and he says, “My good man, this is a Catholic city. No one’s going to put money in a hat with a Star of David! As a matter of fact, most Catholics and Christians in this city will probably donate extra to the hat with the crucifix.”

The beggar with the Star of David turns to the other and says, “Moshe, look who’s trying to tell the Cohen brothers about marketing!”

Dennis Spiegelman grew up in Buffalo, New York, and has fond memories of spending summers at Crystal Beach on Lake Erie. Whenever he goes back to visit, he picks up dozens of bottles of loganberry juice, which was invented at the Crystal Beach Amusement Park in the late nineteenth century and is mostly unavailable outside the area.

Sam goes into Macy’s, to the lingerie department, and he says to the salesgirl, “My wife has sent me in for a Jewish bra, size 34B, and she said that you’d know what I meant.”

The saleslady says, “Boy, it’s been a long time since anybody’s asked me for a Jewish bra. They usually ask me for a Catholic bra or a Salvation Army bra or a Presbyterian bra.”

He says, “Well, what’s the difference?”

She says, “The Catholic bra supports the masses, the Salvation Army bra uplifts the downfallen, and the Presbyterian bra keeps them staunch and upright.”

He goes, “Well, then what’s a Jewish bra?”

“Oh, a Jewish bra makes mountains out of molehills.”

Fred Rubin’s career accomplishments include a stint as a rock-and-roll columnist, time spent as a social worker, and a job as a singing waiter.

Around the 1920s, three Jewish brothers invent this miraculous machine that can instantly cool a room. It’s not like a fan, which blows hot air around. It literally sucks in hot air and blows out cold air. They want to market it; they want to do something with it, but they don’t know what to do. They decide to take it to Henry Ford, the great industrialist, never knowing that he’s a radical anti-Semite.

They take the machine to Ford. He says, “Well, plug it in. Let’s see it work.” They plug it in and instantly the room gets cool. Henry Ford’s eyes light up, and he says, “I want this. I want this machine. I’ll give you a million dollars for it right now!”

The Schwartzman brothers say, “All right! We’re happy with that, but we want the name Schwartzman on it, in big letters!”

Henry Ford goes, “Oh no, that’s impossible. I can’t do that, but I’ll make you a deal: I’ll give you two million dollars, but no way’s ‘Schwartzman’ on the machine, no way.”