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Hetty, an elderly lady, has been driving around the Brent Cross shopping centre’s car park for some time looking for a place to park when at last she finds one and stops to pull into it. Suddenly, a youngster drives his car around her and parks his smart silver Audi in her space.
Hetty is so upset that she gets out of her car and says to the young driver, “I was going to park there!”
As he walks away, the man just laughs and says, “That’s what you can do when you’re young and quick.”
Well, this really infuriates Hetty. She gets back into her car, backs it up and then drives it at speed straight into his Audi. The youngster runs back to his damaged car and asks, “What did you do that for?”
Hetty smiles and replies, “That’s what you can do when you’re old and rich.”

Gotlieb called his Rabbi and said, “I know tonight is Kol Nidre but tonight is the European Cup Final and my team is playing . I’ve got to watch the game on TV.”
The Rabbi responds, “Gotlieb, that’s what VCRs are for.”
Gotlieb is surprised. “You mean I can tape Kol Nidre”?

Meyer, a lonely widower was walking home along Delancy Street one day wishing something wonderful would happen into his life when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish:
“Quawwwwk… vus macht du… yeah, du… outside, standing like a putzel… eh?”
Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears. He couldn’t believe it. The proprietor sprang out of the door and grabbed Meyer by the sleeve. “Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot… ”
Meyer stood in front of an African Grey that cocked his little head and said: “Vus? Kenst reddin Yiddish?”
Meyer turned excitedly to the storeowner. “He speaks Yiddish?”
“Vuh den? Chinese maybe?”, the bird said.
In a matter of moments, Meyer had placed five hundred dollars down on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him. All night he talked with the parrot. In Yiddish. He told the parrot about his father’s adventures coming to America. About how beautiful his mother was when she was a young bride. About his family. About his years of working in the garment center. About Florida. The parrot listened and commented. They shared some walnuts. The parrot told him of living in the pet store, how he hated the weekends. They both went to sleep.
The next morning, Meyer began to put on his tefillin all the while saying his prayers. The parrot demanded to know what he was doing, and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted some too. Meyer went out and hand-made a miniature set of tefillin for the parrot. The parrot wanted to learn to daven and learn every prayer. He wanted to learn to read Hebrew so Meyer spent weeks and months sitting and teaching the parrot, teaching him Torah. In time, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and a Jew. He had been saved.
One morning, on Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose and got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that Shul was not place for a bird but the parrot made a terrific argument and was carried to Shul on Meyer’s shoulder. Needless to say, they made quite a spectacle and Meyer was questioned by everyone including the Rabbi and Cantor. They refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holydays but Meyer convinced them to let him in this one time, swearing that parrot could daven.
Wagers were made with Meyer. Thousands of dollars were bet (even odds) that the parrot could NOT daven, could not speak Yiddish or Hebrew, etc. All eyes were on the African Grey during services. The parrot perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one prayer and song passed – Meyer heard not a peep from the bird. He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath, “Daven!” Nothing. “Daven… parrot, you can daven, so daven… come on, everybody’s looking at you!” Nothing.
After Rosh Hashanah services concluded, Meyer found that he owed his Shul buddies and the Rabbi over four thousand dollars. He marched home, pissed off, saying nothing. Finally several blocks from the temple the bird began to sing an old Yiddish song and was happy as a lark. Meyer stopped and looked at him. “You miserable bird, you cost me over four thousand dollars. Why? After I made your tefillin and taught you the morning prayers, and taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah. And after you begged me to bring you to Shul on Rosh Hashanah, why? Why did you do this to me?”
“Don’t be a schmuck,” the parrot replied. “Think of the odds on Yom Kippur.”

At the Russian War College, the general is a guest lecturer and tells
the class of officers that the session will focus on potential problems
and the resulting strategies.
One of the officers in the class begins by asking the first question,
“Will we have to fight a World War Three?”
“Yes, comrades, looks like you will,” answers the general.
“And who will be our enemy, Comrade General?” another officer asks.
“The likelihood is that it will be China.”
The class looks alarmed, and finally one officer asks, “But Comrade
General, we are 150 million people and they are about 1.5 billion.
How can we possibly win?”
“Well,” replies the general, “Think about it. In modern war, it is
not the quantity, but the quality that is the key. For example, in the
Middle East, 5 million Jews fight against 50 million Arabs, and the Jews
have been the winners every time.”
“But sir,” asks the panicky officer, “Do we have enough jews”?

Abe is reading his Jewish Chronicle when his wife Ruth walks up behind him and smacks him on the back of the head with her hand.
“What on earth was that for?” shouts Abe.
“That,” she replies, “was because I found a piece of paper in your pocket with the name Judith Pasha written on it.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, darling,” Abe says. “Don’t you remember last week when I went to Ascot races? Well, Judith Pasha was the name of one of the horses I bet on whilst I was there.”
Ruth gives a shrug and walks away muttering to herself.
A few days later, Abe is reading his Times newspaper when Ruth again walks up behind him and smacks him on the back of the head, but this time much harder.
“What was that for?” Abe shouts, rubbing the back of his head.
Ruth replies, “Your horse just called.”



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