Thursday, August 04, 2011

August 4, 2011--Rona's Joke

We were feeling down yesterday morning but thankfully Al, Ken, John, and Billy were at the diner when we showed up for coffee. We were upset about the recent henanigans in Washington.

I'm not sure of everyone's politics. In a small town, to remain friendly--which is desirable since we all need each other--we try to avoid conversations that might get too heated.

But today, after some of the implications of the debt-ceiling deal were being analyzed in the press, with everyone on both the left and right feeling disappointed about the deal itself but more about the craven and self-interested way in which all of our "leaders" acted, over Doug and Crystal's endless cups of coffee, we quickly agreed that we were feeling betrayed. It was Al, I think, who said for all of us, "I don't feel as if anyone in Washington is representing me."

It was a beautiful morning but our mood was darkening. Trying to sound perky, Billy asked, "Anyone know a good joke?"

Ken agreed, "We sure could use one."

"Don't look at me," I said. "I'm the world's worst joke teller." Rona was nodding in vigorous agreement. "What about you, big shot, do you know any?"

"In fact I do," Rona said, puffing herself up. We all turned to look skeptically at her. "It's not the greatest but if no one else has one it mine will have to do."

Billy again said, "We sure could use one."

So here's Rona's joke on the assumption that you too could use one. I'll do my best. As I confessed, I'm not that good at telling jokes.

She began: "There's this son who calls his mother . . ."

"Is this going to be a Jewish mother joke?" Al asked with a faux sigh.

Rona smiled at him, "It easily could be." And then continued.

This son calls his mother and says, "I have bad news. The cat died."

In an angry tone his mother admonishes him, "What kind of a way is that to tell me the cat died?"

"Well, he did. What was I supposed to say?"

"You could have begun by telling me that the cat isn't feeling well and then after a minute told me that he hasn't been eating for a few days. After that, you could have said to me he's taken a turn for the worst. And then you might have added he really isn't doing well. Then, you could have told me that he died."

"I see your point," her son said. "I'm sorry I told you the way I did."

They talked for a while longer and then he hung up.

Two days later his mother called to tell him that his father wasn't feeling well and, after pausing for a second, said, "And he died."


"That's pretty grim," Al said, "But it is sort of funny." Ken and Billy had chuckled, clearly not used to Jewish-mother jokes.

On the other hand, it's not the greatest joke and as you can now see I'm not very good at telling them.

"But, as I said," Billy said, trying to be encouraging, "We need jokes during these times. In fact, I have one for you." We all leaned toward him eagerly. "There is this couple. He's 92 and she's 90. They live in a retirement residence and after chatting for a while, he asks her out on a date . . . "

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