Jewish Mother Joke (G)
And it came to pass that an openly Jewish man was elected to be President of the United States of America.
So he calls his mother in Queens and invites her to come down to Washington DC to share the Passover Holliday.
She says, 'I'd like to, but it's so much trouble... I mean, I have to get a cab to the airport, and I hate waiting on Queens Blvd...'
He replies, 'Mom! I'm the President! You won't need a cab; I'll send a limo for you!'
To which his mother replies, 'I know, but then I'll have to get my ticket at the airport, and try to get a seat on the plane, and I hate to sit in the middle... it's just too much trouble.'
He replies, 'Mom! I'm the President of the United States! I'll send Air Force One or another of my private jets for you.
To which she replies, 'Oh, well, but then when we land, I'll have to carry my luggage through the airport, and try to get a cab... it's really too much trouble.'
He replies, 'Mom!! I'm the President! I'll send a helicopter for you! You won't have to lift a finger'
She answers, 'Yes, that's nice... but, you know, I still need a hotel room, and the rooms are so expensive, and I really don't like the rooms...'
He answers, 'Mom! I'm the President! You'll stay at the White House!'
She responds, 'Well... all right... I guess I'll come.'
The next day, she's on the phone with her friend Betty.
Betty: 'Hello, Sylvia . . . so what's new?'
Sylvia: 'I'm visiting my son for Passover!'
Betty: 'The doctor?'
Sylvia: 'No . . . the other one.'
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Mundane Journeys through an Amazing World
begins with Interstate 80. Not the most engaging topic, I know, but when you think about it, I-80 runs all the way across the North American continent linking San Francisco and New York. It's not just a ribbon of asphalt, it's a portal to far away, almost magical places.
My visits to major cities like Tokyo, London and Washington DC have been business affairs. I haven't rode a lot of roller coasters or ridden in open air buses, but I have visited with senators, bought yams from the back of a truck and barely escaped complete embarrassment when I was introduced to Matt Wiener in Vegas.
As I wrote the book I realized that over the years exotic, distant places have become more like the mundane places I've called home. But, as it turns out, there really aren't any mundane places, only mundane ways of looking at things.
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