Abdul was meditating, getting prepared to strap on a suicide bomb, when suddenly his friend Ahmed appeared to him in his dream.
“Ahmed, bless Alah! Soon I will be joining you in paradise.”
“Abdul, you might not want to be so quick to go blow your self up.”
“Why? Isn’t it all that we’ve been told it is in heaven?”
“Well yes, it is very nice, but the 72 virgins aren’t what they’re cracked up to be.”
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“You ever see what kind of girls die a virgin?”
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are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat’s milk. The older of the mothers pulls a bag out of her purse and starts flipping through photos. And they start reminiscing.
“This is my oldest son Mohammed. He would be 24 years old now.” “Yes, I remember him as a baby” says the other mother cheerfully. “He’s a martyr now though” mum confides. “Oh, so sad, dear” says the other.
And this is my second son Kalid. He would be 21.” “Oh, I remember him,” says the other happily, “he had such curly hair when he was born”. “He’s a martyr too” says mum quietly. “Oh, gracious me …” says the other.
“And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He would be 18”, she whispers. “Yes” says the friend enthusiastically, “I remember when he first started school”. He’s a martyr also,” says mum, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and says ……
They blow up so fast, don’t they?”
Little Johnny came home from school one day slightly confused. His mother was Jewish and his father was black
So Johnny asks, Mommy, am I more Jewish or more black?”
“What does it really matter? If you want to know for sure you’ll jus have to ask your father,” his mother tells him.
So, when his father arrived home from work, Little Johnny asks the same question, “Daddy, am I more Jewish or more black?”
“What the hell kind of a question is that? Why do you want to know if you’re more Jewish or more black?” asks his dad.
“Well, it’s like this dad… Tommy down the street wants to sell his bicycle for $50, and I don’t know whether to Jew him down to $25, or wait until it’s dark and steal the fucking thing.”
At the end of a tiny deserted bar sits a huge Indian. He’s having a few beers when a short, well dressed, and obviously gay man walks in and sits down beside him.
After three or four beers the gay fellow finally plucks up the courage to say something to the big Indian. Leaning over towards him,he whispers, “Do you want a blow job?”
At this the massive Indian leaps up with fire in his eyes and smacks the man in the face knocking him swiftly off his stool. He proceeds to beat him all the way out of the bar before leaving him bruised and battered in the parking lot and returning to his seat.
Amazed, the bartender quickly brings over another beer to the big Indian. “I’ve never seen you react like that,” he says. “Just what did he say to you?”
” I don’t know,” the big Indian replied. “Something about a job.”
When NASA was preparing for the Apollo project, it did some astronaut training near a Navajo Indian reservation.
One day, a Navajo elder and his son came across the space crew. The old man, who spoke only Navajo, asked a question which his son translated. “What are these guys in the big suits doing?” A member of the crew said they were practicing for their trip to the moon. The old man got very excited and asked if he could send a message to the moon with the astronauts.
Recognizing a promotional opportunity, the NASA folks found a tape recorder. After the old man recorded his message, they asked his son to translate it. He refused.
They then took the tape to the reservation, where the rest of the tribe listened and laughed but refused to translate the elder’s message to the moon.
Finally, the NASA crew called in an official government translator. He reported that the message said, “Watch out for these guys. They have come to steal your land.”