…because you can’t fit all that shit into a shoe.

How many Ethiopians can you fit into a phonebooth?
…all of ’em.

How many Ethiopians can you fit into a bathtub?
…none of ’em. They keep sliding down the drain.

Why do Greek men never volunteer for the army?
…because they don’t want to leave their brothers behind.

What do you call a paraplegic in a hot tub?

What do you call a paraplegic on your wall?

What do you call a paraplegic on your doorstep?

What do you call a paraplegic at a Giant’s game?
…third base

How can you tell which is the groom at a Polish wedding?
…he’s the one with the clean bowling shirt.

How do you babysit a black kid?
…wet his lips and stick him to the ceiling.

How do you get him down?
…give a Mexican kid a bat and tell him he’s a pinata.

What do you get when you cross a Mexican with a black man?
…a thief who’s too lazy to steal a car.

A Jew and a Polak meet on the street corner. The Jew points to the bag the Polak is holding and asks “What ya got in the bag?” to which the polak replies “Chickens!” The Jew shakes his head and mutters “Oi we haven’t had chicken in a long time.” The Polak says “Tell you what – you guess how many chickens I have in this bag and I’ll give you BOTH of ’em!” The Jew thinks for a moment and answers “Three?” The Polak opens the bag, looks inside, counts the [2]chickens, sighs, and hands the bag over.

Before there were blonde jokes or how many [blanks] does it take to change a lightbulb jokes, there were ethnic jokes galore. No culture was safe. The above is a sampling of the ethnic jokes I personally grew up with. Left out are the Irish police, Russian mafia and Catholic priest/alterboy jokes but only because I can’t remember any of the punchlines off the top of my head.  (Don’t even get me started on the dead baby jokes.)

I’ve just now typed ‘ethnic jokes’ into google and judging from the gahzillion hits it generated, I’m guessing not much has changed in the past 50-60 years. The jokes on a lot of these lists, actually, are almost verbatim to those I remember hearing in high School as a teenager, or while working in San Francisco Nightclubs as a young adult. Over the years the brunts of the punchlines have changed to fit the political clime of the day, but the majority of the jokes themselves have remained intact. Well it’s nice to know we’re good at recycling SOMETHING!

How do you bury a [insert race] guy in New Jersey?
*NOT TO DEEP! (You don’t want to be the guy who finds Jimmy Hoffa.)
*Upsidedown – then you can use him as a bicycle rack.
*Skin ‘im first – then you getta free wetsuit.

Then there are the ethnic jokes that morph to fit the day’s headlines. This joke from my High School days, for example: “If a girl from Arkansas marries a boy from Oklahoma, do they still call each other brother and sister after the wedding?” morphed into this during the O.J. Simpson trial, years later: Why couldn’t O.J.’s trial be held in Oklahoma? Because all the DNA is the same.

Humans poke fun at each other. It’s what we do. Making fun of oneself is considered a sign of maturity in most cultures. We have roasts for famous people for heaven’s sake… If we ever reach a day when every word written, spoken or mumbled requires a politically correct litmus test,  we will have lost the better part of our humanity.

Had Rahm Emanuel stood at a podium, addressing a room filled with special needs kids and hollered “fucking retards!” then I’d be up for neutering him myself. But my guess is that simply would not have happened. And point of fact: Mr. Emanuel referred to a ‘policy’ as retarded, not an actual person.

So this feigned outburst of shock and demand for immediate atonement by Sarah Palin to Rahm Emanuel, over one pollie frustratingly referring to a (quite possibly inept) policy written by other pollies “fucking retarded” in a roomful of his peers is just another example of how very disconnected the woman is from any form of reality.

And you know, she did the exact same thing to David Letterman. Maybe these men should start a club.

First of all to Sarah: You’re late.  This non-event took place a while ago and has since been apologized for by Mr. Emanuel. Might I suggest, when your ghost-facebook-writers are experiencing a slow news day, they might check the dates of tidbits they google? I mean before they put you in a humiliating light.

Second, does this woman who purportedly shoots wild animals, works on a fishing trawler and is mother to five children – never curse? Never?   You’re telling me she’s never said one thing out of line, ever? pfft.

Shut up Sarah, just sit down and shut up.

Ok – Three guys walked into a bar… (you’d think after the first one walked into the bar, the other two would’ve had more sense and walked around it.)

To comment on this post, please scroll up to the title: Catch Up Week: The ‘R’ Word (or) Why Is Italy Shaped Like a Boot? and click the word comments just beneath. Thanks, OzMud