Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #9 (3/19/11) – PURIM JOKES

aired March 19, 2011 on Dave’s Gone By. YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zt-rjdt7ANE

Shalom Dammit, this is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of March 20th, 2011.

(grogger noise) Happy Purim, everybody!  Arguably the most joyful day on the Jewish calendar because we were saved from the evil Haman by the clever Mordechai and the sexy Esther.  In fact, we’re allowed to get so drunk, we can’t tell the difference between Haman and Mordechai.  Or, if you’re Eddie Murphy, the difference between Mordechai and Esther.

So in honor of Purim, this Rabbinical Reflection is just for fun.  I will begin with the story of an old man in Miami who calls his son in New York.  He says, “Son, I hate to tell you, but your mother and I are divorcing.  It’s been 45 years, and I can’t stand it anymore.  We’re separating next week.”

The son starts screaming and panicking, but the father says, “Look, go call your sister in Texas and tell her, because your mother’s crying, and I’m sick of talking about this.”

The old man hangs up.  The son frantically calls his sister.  Two minutes later, she’s calling the old man saying, “You can’t get divorced!  This is horrible!  Don’t do a thing until I call my brother back, because we are both flying down, and we will be there tomorrow night!”

She hangs up.  The old man hangs up.  Then he turns to his wife in the bed and says, “Okay.  They’re coming for Passover, and they’re paying their own airfare.”

Now, what do we learn from this joke?  Perhaps we learn that the end justifies the means.  The parents lie to the children because they feel it is the only way the kids will visit them on the holidays.  But is this justified?

You’re damn right it is!  Children are lazy, ungrateful little bastards who don’t deserve a tenth of what we give them.  Forget my birthday, will they?  Ptooi!

But where was I?  Oh yes.  A priest and a vicar were walking along, when the priest says, “You know, I’ve been told by several parishioners that I am the spitting image of Jesus Christ.”

The vicar is a little shocked and says, “Wait, I’ve got the beard, the hair.  Everybody tells me I look like Jesus Christ.”

Soon, they’re arguing, and they almost come to blows when they see a Rabbi approaching.  “Rabbi,” they say.  “Please help us.  Which of us is the image of Jesus Christ?”

The Rebbe starts laughing and says, “You?  You two?  Neither.  I’m the image of Jesus Christ – and I can prove it!  Follow me.”

So they walk with the Rabbi a mile or two, downtown, through side streets, through alleys, until they come to a dingy little building with a red curtain over the window.  They go three floors up some rickety stairs to a hallway with a red lightbulb hanging over one of the doors.

The Rabbi knocks, and after a moment, a frazzled buxom blonde in a negligee opens the door.  She looks at the Rabbi and sighs, “Jesus Christ, you again??”

Now this joke turns the tables on us by setting up the idea of a Jew — a Rabbi yet, as a creature of sexual desires and habits.  This is not behavior we expect, even though we all know Rabbis, unlike priests, can get married, have relationships, and get a little boom-chicka-boom-chick when our fringes get frisky.  The fact that this particular Rabbi gets his hoopdi-doo from a whooer, only makes him more human, and sympathetic, and prone to perfectly normal urges.  Or at least, that’s what I tell my wife.

Last joke.  Irving takes his wife to a fancy French restaurant.  The waiter comes over and says, “The specials tonight are beef Burgundy, moo-shoo chicken, shrimp-fried rice, happy-family vegetable, and spicy wonton.”

Irving looks at the waiter and says, “Hold on.  I thought this was a French restaurant.”

The waiter says, “Yes, but it’s a Jewish neighborhood.”

Now I’ve discovered something very important from that joke:  I’m starving!  Where the hell’s that menu?  A couple of hamentaschen only go so far.

Anyway, Purim sameach everybody!  And many more.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches, in Great Neck, NY.

(c) 2011 TotalTheater. All rights reserved.



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