National humour

Just a bit of comic relief, and possibility for serious discussion as well:

On a thread in the Scriptures and Doctrine section, Katy-Did said:

I know a little Hebrew. His name is Rabbi Lenny Finkelstein...5'6" tall, and 5'6" wide

Katy is Jewish, so she can say it without being called "racist", or whatever...

...can she?

What if someone else said it?

When is a joke poking fun at one's own, or another race, nationality or group OK and when not?

For example, following on from Katy:

[i][color=000099]I know a little Greek. He's called Theo Papadopolus and keeps a restaurant in Cardiff.[/color]

Or:
[color=000099]Q: What is a Greek computer expert called?

A: A Greek geek[/color][/i]

But I'm not Greek, so is it still OK?

Any Greeks on SI?

What about this (there are several Canadians on SI)?

[i][color=000099]There's no difference between an American and a Canadian. In fact, the only way you can tell the difference is if you say that to a Canadian![/color][/i]

And a Christian joke, (someone's supposed to have said this in a prayer meeting)

[i][color=000099]Lord, please bless Mrs Smith. She had all her teeth taken out this week, and a new grate put in!"[/color][/i]

Jeannette :-D

I've got a thousand of them - as the old comics used to say - especially being 4 nationalities myself, besides being "a woman" - but I can't quite bring them to memory at the moment - But, I appreciate your good nature.

"Pastor Tim" is just one on the net with tons of jokes and fun on his Site and there were days I truly blessed God for that man.
He also sends out very serious e-messages.
His daughter went through much cancer surgery. He's a loving Dad, Pastor, husband and will even answer your emails if you need help or an answer.
Cybersalt is the name of one of his sites.

Does GOD have a sense of humor?

He sent us a LittleGift.

:lol:

HE_Reigns wrote:

Does GOD have a sense of humor?

He sent us a LittleGift.

:lol:

Here's a Welsh one, though I have to give you a little background first.

In the South Wales industrial valleys, where I come from, life was, and to an extent still is, almost like that of a village community. Everyone knows (and is probably related to,or other wise connected with - even as far as third or forth cousins are considered as family), everyone else.

And of course, everyone knows everyone else's business.

Lots of people are called Jones, and many men are called David, or Dai for short (after saint David, the patron saint).

So we have a way of identifying them by other means, such as Mr Jones the farm, Mrs Price the shop, Mr Evans the milk, Mrs Williams the tump (if she lived on a hill, or tump) etc. My father's grandfather was called John Bara Caws (bread-and-cheese)! There was a comic character in one paper, called Dai Losin (= Dai sweetie - Dai Candy would be the American version); and my father even worked with a chap called "Billy whole-half-egg"! He came from a poor family and didn't have all his wits, and one morning he was excited at having had a "whole half egg" for breakfast!

Anyway, this joke is more against Russian spies (during the Cold War) than against the Welsh.

A Russian spy was sent to Wales, and was supposed to make contact with his fellow Welsh spy in the area. He was told to go to a certain street, knock on a door and give the coded message (Can't remember what it was in the original joke - let's say "Wolves howl when the moon rises over the valley" - sounds sinister and spy-like enough?). To which the spy would give the code answer.

so the Russian spy knocks on the door of the first house. A man answers, and the spy says, in his best sinister spy's voice, "Wolves howl when the moon rises over the valley".

"Oh", said the man, you don't want me, I'm Dai Jones the baker. You want Dai Jones the spy - he lives in number 6"

:-D

It may not be a bad idea to just have a place there too to tell the funniest thing, or the most embarassing thing etc, that ever happened to you!

Sometimes these discussions can take it's toll, and just to have a place to come and laugh not only at yourself, but WITH someone else might help us to get to know ((the warm and fuzzy))side of one another.

Just a thought!
Katy

Oh", said the man, you don't want me, I'm Dai Jones the baker. You want Dai Jones the spy - he lives in number 6"

TOOOO funny.

Reminds me a lot of my own family...8 of us. Oh my, you can't tell anyone anything and say...."now keep this to yourself".

After a while it gets impossible to REMEMBER what was to be kept to yourself and what wasn't.

My poor Mother, with all these Kids.....never could remember our names...and when she would call for someone, she had to go through our whole list of names ((including the Dogs and Cats,)) before she got to the one she needed.

Katy