WASHINGTON, Jan. 11 -

Michelle Obama, the first black woman to serve as First Lady, took to the airwaves recently to express her irritation at being characterized as an “angry black woman”.

Mrs. Obama could not be reached for comment, but a close friend and confidante spoke to this reporter, on condition of anonymity.

“As a black woman in America, Lord knows Michelle has plenty to be angry about, and of course with decades of academic and professional experience in this area, she is widely regarded as an expert in the field. But this “angry black woman” thing just really, really pisses her off. She’s trying to keep cool about it, but frankly I can’t remember the last time I saw her get so mad.”

Her friend paused.

“…well, not lately, anyway. But I’ve been out of town for a few weeks.”

Can you believe this guy’s 80 years old?

What’s that you say, boychik? You lack familiarity with the subject matter? Well relax, you’re mishpocheh, so for you, no charge. Look below the fold for a few free samples.

A man who has finally made it in business treats himself to a new Lamborghini. After buying it, he feels guilty so he goes to the Orthodox Rabbi and asks for a mezuzah for the Lamborghini.

“You want a mezuzah for what?” the Rabbi asks.
“It’s a Lamborghini,”
“What’s a Lamborghini?” asks the Rabbi.
“A sports car.”
“What? That’s blasphemy!” the Rabbi shouts. “You want a mezuzah for a sports car? Go to the Conservatives!”

Well, the man is disappointed, but goes to the Conservative Rabbi and asks for a mezuzah.

“You want a mezuzah for what?” the Rabbi asks.
“For my Lamborghini”, the man replies.
“What’s a Lamborghini?” asks the Rabbi.
“A car, a sports car.”
“What kind of sports car?” asks the Rabbi.
“Italian.”
“What? That is blasphemy!” the Rabbi shouts. “You want a mezuzah for a goyishe car? Go to the Reform!”

Again, the man feels guilty and disappointed, but goes to the Reform Rabbi.

“Rabbi,” he asks, “I’d like a mezuzah for my Lamborghini.”
“You have a Lamborghini?” asks the Rabbi.
“You know what it is?” says the man.
“Of course! It’s a fantastic Italian sports car. What’s a mezuzah?”

An elderly man in Miami calls his son in New York and says, “I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing. Forty-five years of misery is enough.”
“Pop, what are you talking about?” the son screams.

“We can’t stand the sight of each other any longer,” the old man says. “We’re sick of each other, and I’m sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her,” and he hangs up.

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone, “Like heck they’re getting divorced,” she shouts, “I’ll take care of this.” She calls her father immediately and screams at the old man, “You are NOT getting divorced! Don’t do a single thing until I get there. I’m calling my brother back! , and we’ll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don’t do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. “Okay,” he says, “They’re coming for Passover and paying their own airfares.”

The only cow in a small town in Poland stopped giving milk. The people did some research and found that they could buy a cow from Moscow for 2,000 rubles, or one from Minsk for 1,000 rubles. Being frugal, they bought the cow from Minsk.

The cow was wonderful. It produced lots of milk all the time, and the people were amazed and very happy. They decided to acquire a bull to mate with the cow and produce more cows like it. Then they would never have to worry about the milk supply again.

They bought a bull and put it in the pasture with their beloved cow. However, whenever the bull came close to the cow, the cow would move away. No matter what approach the bull tried, the cow would move away from the bull and he could not succeed in his quest.

The people were very upset and decided to ask their wise rabbi, what to do. They told the rabbi what was happening. “Whenever the bull approaches our cow, she moves away. If he approaches from the back, she moves forward.

When he approaches her from the front, she backs off. An approach from the side and she just walks away to the other side.”

The rabbi thought about this for a minute and asked, “Did you buy this cow from Minsk?”

The people were dumbfounded, since they had never mentioned where they had gotten the cow. “You are truly a wise rabbi,” they said.

“How did you know we got the cow from Minsk?”

The rabbi answered sadly, “My wife is from Minsk.”

While leading the Friday evening services, the Rabbi noticed a member of the congregation, Bernie, walk in with a St. Bernard dog. The Rabbi, horrified, asked the cantor to continue the service and went to talk to Bernie.

“What are doing here with a dog?”
“The dog came here to pray,” said Bernie.
“Oh, come on.”
“No, really!”
“I don’t believe you. You’re just fooling around, and that’s not a proper thing to do in temple.”
“Its true, I swear!”
“Ok”, says the Rabbi (thinking he would call Bernie’s bluff), “then show me what the dog can do.”

“OK” says Bernie nodding to the dog. The dog proceeds to open up the barrel under his neck and removes a yarmulke, a tallis (puts them on his head) and prayer book and starts reciting prayers in Hebrew. The Rabbi is so shocked he listens for a full 15 minutes.

When the Rabbi regains his composure, he is so impressed with the quality of the praying he says to Bernie. “This is incredible. Do you think your dog would consider going to rabbinical school?”
Bernie, throwing up his hands in disgust says, “YOU TALK TO HIM! He wants to be a doctor!”

Two Arabs boarded a shuttle from Washington to New York. One sat in the window seat, the other in the middle seat.
Just before take-off a portly Israeli guy got on and took the aisle seat next to the Arabs.
He kicked off his shoes, wiggled his toes and was settling in when the Arab in the window seat said, “I think I’ll go up and get a coke.”
“No problem,” said the Israeli, “I’ll get it for you.” While he was gone, the Arab picked up the Israeli’s shoe and spat in it.
When the Israeli returned with the coke, the other Arab said, “That looks good. I think I’ll have one too.”
Again, the Israeli obligingly went to fetch it, and while he was gone the Arab picked up the other shoe and spat in it.
The Israeli returned with the coke, and they all sat back and enjoyed the short flight to New York.
As the plane was landing the Israeli slipped his feet into his shoes and knew immediately what had happened.
“How long must this go on?” he asked. “This enmity between our people…this hatred…this animosity…this spitting in shoes and peeing in cokes?”

Want more? Well, here’s some more. Don’t miss the one about the talking dog.

But it’s too good not to share, so here it is. I hope some of you out there enjoy it.

Here.

What’s the difference between an orthodox Marxist and a French Socialist? The French guy thinks the state should seize the means of reproduction.

A girl goes into a bar and asks for an example of double entendre, so the barman gives her one.

We note in passing that among the “great Americans” profiled is Sitting Bull, who is best known for having led a massacre of U.S. servicemen; that’s rather an odd choice for the sitting Commander-In-Chief of the United States Army to make. But various others have already taken up this angle with some emotion, and I’ll pass over it here without further comment.

I do think, however, that had Mr. Obama had a slightly more mainstream American upbringing, he might have chosen a different title for his book. On hearing it, I recalled that the title Of Thee I Sing had already been taken, some years ago, by a popular theatrical production — one that makes his choice of it, under the current political circumstances, seem unfortunately apt.

Learn more here.

Meanwhile, the little clash-of-civilizations drama that has had everyone all wound up of late has descended into low comedy. Terry Jones, the tinpot Florida preacher who absurdly set the world on fire by threatening to do the same to a few leaves of paper, is now jerking his captive world-wide audience back and forth like a yo-yo as he waffles about whether he’s actually going to Do the Deed or not. As I understand the latest dispatches, he either did, or did not, make some sort of arrangement with Feisal “Good Cop” Rauf about the location of that triumphal mosque, in consideration of which he might, or might not, be willing to stay his hand, thereby sparing the world further (yawn) Muslim ire. World leaders, media titans, and the commanders of the world’s mightiest army tremble with helpless anxiety as an utterly insignificant little pisher from Gainesville toys with a book of matches.

I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it in my 54 years.

The latest update seems to be that the august Mr. Rauf, saintly builder of bridges, uniter of riven cultures, America’s official knight-errant of tolerance, and a man without an ulterior bone in his body, isn’t about to let this malignant little mountebank, this upstart farceur, this small-bore sky-pilot, upset his protection racket — in which the “deeply sensitive” Imam, though yearning with all his heart to move his triumphal 9/11 victory mosque somewhere else to ease America’s spiritual anguish, must sadly keep it right where it is for the sake of “national security”. Mr. Jones, therefore, seems likely once again to be making his incendiary statement on Saturday.

I know what you are thinking: this has really gone beyond absurdity; it is a disgraceful media and political circus. What we need is a wise and sober figure, some universally respected solon of unimpeachable sagacity and gravitas, to discipline these squabbling children, and bring this whole embarrassing mess to a swift and dignified conclusion.

Wait! Our prayers may have been answered. We have just learned that Donald Trump has waded into the fray, and will soon put things to rights.

“Until the ’80s, there was usually the (standard) deli tray backstage,” said Stookey, calling from his home in Blue Hill, Maine, on the Atlantic Coast. “Then we had regular menus — some Polish meals, roast turkey with mashed potatoes, dressing and cranberries — and every once in a while, pizza. The most exciting thing, mostly in the ’60s, if a concert was canceled, we’d be left to our own devices, and we could go out to a movie, or have sushi, perhaps. But that was rare.”

Having gotten to know PPM many years ago, when I mixed two albums for them, I’ll bet you anything that Noel — who is a very funny guy indeed — threw out that last line with tongue firmly, as they say, in cheek. (He might also have added “And once when we were in Japan, we were served whale’s tail – but that was just a fluke.”)

His interviewer seems to have swum right past it.

When a host asked Mark Twain if he would like a drink before breakfast, the humorist replied:

“Thanks, I do not care for a drink for three reasons. In the first place, I never drink before breakfast. In the second place, I am a prohibitionist, and, in the third place, I have already had three drinks this morning.”

How do you tell the difference between a UK Police Officer, an Australian Police Officer and an American Police Officer?

By posing the following question:

Scenario Question:

You’re walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children. Suddenly, a dangerous-looking man with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, raises the knife, and charges. You are carrying a Glock .40, and you are an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family. What do you do?

UK police officer:

Well, that’s not really enough information to answer the question! Does the man look poor or oppressed? Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack? Could we run away? What does my wife think? What about the kids? Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand? What does the law say about this situation? Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it? Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children? Is it possible he would be happy with just killing me? Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me? If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me? Should I call 9-9-9? And why is this street so deserted? We need to raise taxes, have a paint-and-weed day and make this a happier, healthier street that would discourage such behaviour. If I raise my gun and he turns and runs away, will I be blamed if he falls over, knocks his head and kills himself? If I shoot him, does his family have the opportunity to sue me, cost me my job, my credibility, and will I lose my family home?

Australian police officer:

BANG !

American police officer:

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! …click…
…(sounds of reloading)…
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! …click.

Daughter: “Nice grouping, dad! Were those the Winchester Silvertips?”

My favorite, though, is the final strip, in which Calvin’s dad explains why old photographs are in black and white. Go follow the link at Jeff’s place to learn more. (Philosophy buffs may end up wondering why the old photos weren’t in grue and bleen.)

And if you want more (how could you not?), another favorite of mine was Calvin’s “dark snowmen” series. Here.

This evening’s offering fits with particular aptness into our “tomfoolery” taxon, having been tossed over the transom today by my old Hung Gar training brother Tom Andrus. So, without further ado:

Can’t find the book you’re looking for? Well, it’s probably because you’re in the: