Old Jews Telling Jokes

by Sam Hoffman

  “No, I doubt that anyone has forgotten this.”

  “Well, was it a long time ago?”

  “Yes, it was a very long time ago.”

  The young man says, “Was it before the Drobkin fart or after?”

  A Note About the Drobkin Joke

  Sent to the Old Jews Telling Jokes website by L. Weinman:

  You may, or may not, be interested in knowing that the “Drobkin” joke has a looooong history.

  As told on your site it is almost identical to a story in A Thousand and One Nights, which I believe was written down about the year 1200.

  In that version Abu-Hassan is a very wealthy merchant, and one night holds a grand dinner for the caliph and many men of importance.

  During the dinner he breaks wind “loud and terrible.” Feigning a call of nature, he runs away.

  There are at least, by memory, about one hundred pages that describe his travels and adventures over the next ten years.

  He finally decides that it may be time for him to come back home, but he wants to check things out.

  He, by this time, does not appear to be the same man who left—age and adventures—and he wanders around the town without hearing anything bad.

  On his way to his house, he passes a woman and her daughter sitting/working in front of their house.

  The daughter asks the mother, “When was I born?” and of course, the mother answers, “Thou wert born on the night Abu-Hassan farted.”

  RONNIE BUSCH

  Ronnie Busch is the third Busch brother to tell a joke on the site. He has always been remarkably fast with a one-liner. When I decided, after college, to forgo law school and go into the movie business, he quipped, “Great! Rin Tin Tin needs a stand-in.” It turned out not to be true. Rin Tin Tin has this little bitch he’s been working with for years.

  Emissions

  Mr. Ginsberg is a resident of Rossmore. He’s ready to go to Florida for the winter and he goes in to see Dr. Schwartz, an internist.

  The doctor says, “What’s the problem?”

  He says, “Well, I’ve been having these silent gas emissions, and I just don’t know what to do about it, and it’s causing a lot of problems and a lot of embarrassment.”

  “Well, tell me about it.”

  “The other night we were playing bridge; my wife and I were at the Grossmans’. And during the course of the evening I probably had six or eight of these silent gas emissions. It created a little bit of a noxious odor, but they were all silent so there were really no problems.

  “We went home and it happened again the other night at dinner so I decided to come see you. As a matter of fact, I’ve had eight or ten of these incidents as I sit here today. What can you do for me, Doctor?”

  The doctor says, “Well, the first thing I’ll do for you is send you to a hearing specialist.”

  CHARLOTTE BORNSTEIN

  When Charlotte Bornstein began the Charlotte-James skin-care company in Los Angeles thirty years ago, she fulfilled a lifelong ambition to “be in the skin business.”

  Dwarf and Shrink

  A very small man walks into a psychiatrist’s office. He says to the psychiatrist, “By any chance, do you treat dwarves?”

  He says, “Yes, I do. You’ll just have to be a little patient.”

  A Bonus Joke from Charlotte Bornstein

  Invisible Man

  A guy walks into a psychiatrist’s office and says to the secretary, “I need to see the psychiatrist, immediately.”

  The secretary says, “What seems to be the problem?”

  He says, “Well, I think I’m invisible.”

  So the secretary knocks on the door of the psychiatrist’s office, walks in, and says, “Dr. Smith, there’s a man in the waiting room who claims to be invisible.”

  The doctor says, “Tell him I can’t see him.”

  LARRY ZICKLIN

  Larry Zicklin endowed the Zicklin School of Business at Baruch College. He also endowed the Carol and Lawrence Zicklin Center for Business Ethics Research, at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business.

  Everything Hurts

  A redheaded lady, beautiful lady, walks into the doctor’s office and says, “Doctor, you’ve gotta help me. I’m in terrible pain. Everything in my body hurts. Not one thing, but everything.”

  Doctor says, “Everything?”

  “Absolutely everything.”

  Doctor says, “Show me.”

  She says, “Well, look. [Presses head.] Oh! I’m in terrible pain when I do that. [Presses neck.] Oh, and that’s worse!”

  She touches her side, and then she starts to scream. She touches her leg; she’s in anguish.

  Doctor looks at her and says, “You’re not a redhead, are you?”

  She says, “Well, not really.”

  He says, “You’re a blonde.”

  She says, “I am. How did you know?”

  He says, “Your finger’s broken.”

  BARNETT HOFFMAN

  My dad was the only one of the first season’s joke tellers to come back for season two. Initially I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. But he sat me down and patiently explained that if I didn’t let him tell a few more jokes, I wouldn’t be allowed to go to the prom. This is probably good, as I have no idea where I put my gray Capezio jazz shoes.

  “I Must”

  A Frenchman, a German, and a Jew are walking through the desert and it’s so hot in this desert.

  They’re schlepping along and trudging, and the Frenchman says, “I am so tired. I am so thirsty and tired. I must, I must have some French wine.”

  They’re trudging along and the German says, “I am hot. And I am tired. I must, I must have some good German beer.”

  They walk a little farther and the Jewish guy says, “Oy am I tired. Am I tired, am I tirsty. I must. I must.

  “I must have diabetes.”

  Herman Koltnow

  Tea Leaves

  Becky woke up one morning with a tormenting rectal itch. She had never experienced anything as terrible. She thought she could suffer in silence, but as it became more severe she had to seek help.

  She told her neighbor Sadie. Sadie said, “I know just what to do. When you have your tea, take the leaves from the pot and apply them to the itch. You’ll feel better in no time.”

  Becky did as she was told, applying her tea leaves to the area. She had a few hours of relief, but later in the day the itch was back, worse than ever.

  In despair she decided to consult Sammy Schwartz, the local quack.

  “Sammy,” said Becky, “I’ve got a problem: a tormenting rectal itch.”

  Sammy looked pensive and said, “Becky, get on the examining table and I’ll see what it looks like.”

  Becky positioned herself on the doctor’s table and Sammy, in his best professional manner, went to investigate.

  “Oy!” cried Sammy in shock.

  “What is it?” Becky asked frantically.

  “You’re going to meet a tall stranger and take a long voyage.”

  11

  Getting Old

  Florida, as in Southeast, and Surgery, as in Plastic

  “Doctor, I can’t pee.”

  “How old are you?

  “Ninety.”

  “You’ve peed enough!”

  It would certainly be Hebocentric to claim that the Jews have suffered the effects of aging and the march of time more than any other ethnic group (although it could probably be argued that the Jews have probably kvetched more about it!).

  Through two groundbreaking discoveries, however, the American Jew has probably had more success than any other group in history of reversing or at least mitigating the unpleasant side effects of a long life. The American Jews did not invent either of these remedies, and we certainly do not lay claim to using them exclusively, but we have been strong proponents and advocates of both. These are: Florida, as in southeastern, and surgery, as in plastic.

  Ponce de Leon explored Florida in the 1500s l
ooking for the “fountain of youth” and the American Jews pretty much found it at the Miami Fontainebleau, starting in the late 1950s. With the success that followed the war years, American Jews were able to do something that their forebears had never done: retire. While they still wanted to spend the summer months up north with their perfect grandchildren, what was wrong with having a little sunshine during the dreary winter? Jewish communities developed in Miami Beach, Hollywood, Boca Raton, and for the fancy-shmancies, Palm Beach.

  While Florida couldn’t actually stop the aging process, it could certainly slow it down. How slow? About twelve miles per hour if you’ve ever taken a drive around early-bird-special dinnertime. Retired Jews were able to stay active and fit doing all the things they liked the most: playing golf, practicing bridge, lobbing a tennis ball back and forth, betting nickels at mah-jongg, and, especially, complaining that their children don’t call enough.

  The Jews certainly did not invent plastic surgery. Apparently the Indians were performing it as early as a thousand years ago. Whatever. The Chinese invented spaghetti but you wouldn’t ask for a Bolognese in Beijing. Plastic surgery is endemic to all contemporary American life, and isn’t limited to any particular ethnic group, but the Jews, as is their wont, have put their own spin on it.

  When elective cosmetic surgery starting becoming possible and popular in the 1960s, the Jews were in a quandary. They liked the idea of a little nip and tuck but didn’t know whether it was, well, kosher. So a number of major rabbis were asked to opine on the subject.

  Quoting various sources in the Halacha, most of the rabbis came to the same opinion: It was allowable to do the plastic surgery if one was preventing shame and suffering by correcting a defect in one’s looks. It was forbidden if the cause was vanity alone. And there the rabbis managed to completely satisfy their constituency. Not only did they give the Jews backdoor permission to have plastic surgery, but they gave them a good reason to find themselves defective!

  DANIEL OKRENT

  Daniel Okrent, like Isaac Newton and that guy Murphy, has a “law” named for him. Okrent’s law: The pursuit of balance can create imbalance because sometimes something is true.

  Three Old Jews

  So these three old Jews are sitting on a traffic island on Broadway as they do on most sunny mornings.

  One of them says out of nowhere, “Ech. It’s terrible. I hate it. I just can’t stand it.”

  The other one says, “Max, what’s wrong with you?”

  Max says, “It’s being eighty-five years old. You know, every morning I get up, it’s seven o’clock, I go to pee. I stand there, I push, I squeeze, nothing comes out—a little dribble, dribble, dribble if I’m lucky. It’s terrible.”

  His friend says, “I know what you mean.”

  “Why? What’s your problem?”

  “Every morning, you know, I try to move mine bowels. I push, I sqeeze, I grunt, I groan—maybe raisins if I’m lucky. It’s terrible.”

  The third guy says, “I know what you mean. Being old, it’s just awful.”

  Max says, “What’s your problem, Sol?”

  He says “Well, every morning, seven o’clock, I pee like a golden fountain. Eight o’clock, I have a nice bowel movement. Nice juicy plums.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  He says, “I don’t get out of bed until nine.”

  EILEEN LOTTMAN

  Eileen was married for forty-five years to the late Evan Lottman. She refers to him as the “best motion picture film editor in the business” and, although she would be the first to acknowledge bias, she may be right. Among many other films, Evan edited Sophie’s Choice, Panic in Needle Park, and parts of The Hustler and Apocalypse Now, and was nominated for an Academy Award for The Exorcist.

  Super Sex

  A little old lady in the nursing home goes up to the last remaining man in the nursing home.

  She gets herself all dolled up and says, “How would you like some super sex?”

  He says, “I’ll take the soup.”

  Irwin Ira Steinberg

  Blame the Dog

  Avi’s wife passed away a few years back and he’s decided that he will finally go on a date. His neighbor Atle, a widow herself, has invited him over. They are sitting in the living room chatting, with her dog resting on the floor near Avi. As this is his first date since his marriage, he is very nervous and has developed a terrible case of flatulence and can’t control himself. He lets one rip.

  “Spot, get away,” Atle says, but the dog doesn’t move.

  Avi thinks to himself, Wow, she is so nice that she is pretending this is the dog’s fault—my late wife would have never done such a thing.

  He then lets another one out, even louder than the first.

  “Go away, Spot,” she says, even louder.

  This is incredible, Avi thinks. What a considerate woman!

  And of course he lets one more go.

  “Get out, Spot!” Atle yells. “Before he craps all over you!”

  HARRY RISKIN

  Harry Riskin was selected as a “New Jersey Super Lawyer” by New Jersey Monthly magazine.

  The Breakfast Table

  Becky and Jake have been married for fifty years and they’re at the breakfast table.

  Becky says to Jake, “Can you imagine, we’ve been at this breakfast table for fifty years and it’s just been wonderful being with you.”

  And Jake says, “Yes, I can remember. As a matter of fact, I can remember sitting here naked as a jaybird with you at this very breakfast table.”

  So Becky says to him, “You know what? Let’s relive old times, Jake. Let’s get nude.”

  So they strip and they get right down to the buff and they come back to the table and sit down.

  Becky says, “Jake, my honey. You know my nipples are as hot for you today as they were fifty years ago.”

  Jake says, “That doesn’t surprise me. One’s in the coffee and the other’s in the oatmeal.”

  RICHARD CHESNOFF

  Richard Z. Chesnoff, in his role as a global correspondent, had the opportunity to interview Yasser Arafat many times. “Once in the late eighties at his headquarters in Tunisia,” Chesnoff says, “Arafat invited me to stay on for lunch. The table was filled with familiar Palestinian delights—hummus, tahini, parsley and bulgar salad, pita, etc. There was also a huge tureen in the middle of the table filled with liquid with what looked like floating chunks of meat and vegetables. I asked what it was. ‘Chicken soup,’ Arafat said! ‘It’s my favorite and I have it every day.’ I laughed and told him he had more in common with Yitzhak Rabin, Israelis, and Jews than he thought. ‘We call it Jewish penicillin,’ I told him. I’m not sure he got it, and after he offered me a chicken leg with his fingers, I decided I’d rather not try it.”

  Morris Turning Ninety-five

  Morris is about to turn ninety-five. His sons want to give him a birthday present but they don’t know what to get him. They talk back and forth—maybe we’ll give him this, maybe we’ll give him that.

  They go to visit Morris in his nursing home. “Papa,” they say, “it’s going to be your ninety-fifth birthday. What would you like as a present?”

  Papa says, “Well, fellahs, I’m getting a little lonely here. Maybe you’ll bring me a nice young woman, put her in my bed with me, and I’ll have an afternoon with her?”

  The boys are shocked! They talk to one another—we can’t do that, it’s a nursing home, there will be a scandal, they’ll throw him out. One son says to the other, “Listen, I got an idea. They’re making inflatable dolls now that are so fantastic you can’t tell. And Papa doesn’t see so well, he doesn’t hear so well. It’ll be fine.”

  The sons go and they spend a fortune on this blond, buxom blow-up doll. They put it in the bed, they bring their father in. They leave their father alone, they go outside and wait, and they hear a little noise—and all of a sudden, they hear an explosion, and the father screams. The sons run in and say, “Papa! What happened?
”

  The father says, “Well, this girl doesn’t talk very much. So we’re lying in bed, we’re making out a little bit, I started to nibble a bit on her breast, and all of a sudden she farts and flies out the window!”

  ALAN GORDON

  Alan Gordon was an executive at a local paper distribution company when I was in high school. Some of us worked for him in the summer. We rode around the massive warehouse on a pallet jack, picking loads for the trucks to deliver. We got a Teamsters card and overtime after 5 P.M. I used to try to remember all the words to “American Pie” as I rode around the warehouse. It helped pass the time.

  Jake and Becky

  Jake and Becky are an old couple. They’ve been dating for a while, and they decide “tonight’s the night.”

  They get to her apartment and Jake says, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

  He comes back out and there’s Becky, standing on her head, legs akimbo, pants down, dress over her head.

  “Becky, what are you doing?”

  Becky says, “I figured, if you can’t get it up, you can drop it in.”

  Joel Gorfinkel

  “What’s She Got?”

  Morris and Becky are both in their eighties and are residing at the long-term care facility, the “Home,” and have started a friendship.