by Marnie Winston-Macauley

We Jews are a complex pastiche, layered with strands of “oys” running through the joys. We do know that suffering is involved. Imagine for a moment Jews without humor. We’d have jumped off that roof with the Fiddler.

The Jewish joke is (obviously) about something Jewish and almost everything is fodder, nothing is off-limits. It’s democratic and yes, anti-authoritarian. Anyone, and anything, is treated with the same ironic wit. Here’s a sample:

Jewish Mother: “Hello, operator! Give me the manager of the fancy-shmancy room service.”

Manager: “Room Service. How may I help you?”

Jewish Mother: “This is room 402, Mister Room Service. I want to order a nice breakfast.”

Manager: “Certainly, madam. What would you like?”

Jewish Mother: “I want a glass of orange juice with pits. The toast should be burned to a crisp, two soft boiled eggs that are hard, and a pot of hot coffee that is cold…”

Manager: “Madam, I can’t fill an order like that!”

Jewish Mother: “Ahaaa! You did yesterday!”

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