It's 3:00 A.M. and Goldie wakes up to see her husband pacing the floor."Melvin, why can't you sleep?" she asks him. "You know our next door neighbor, Sam. I borrowed $1,000 from him, and it's due tomorrow morning and I don't have the money. I don't know what I'm going to do." Melvin replies.

   Goldie gets out of bed and opens the window. "Sam," she shouts, and several times more, "Sam, Sam."

   Finally a very groggy Sam opens the window opposite her and yells back, "What, what is it...it's 3 AM, what the hell do you want?"

   Goldie says, "You know the $1,000 my husband owes you? He doesn't have it."

She then slams the window shut, turns to Melvin and says, now you go to sleep, and let Sam pace the floor."

"Just put yourself in my hands for few years," said the shrink. "Come to me three times a week, and I'll cure your fears." "How much do you charge?"
"A hundred dollars per visit." "I'll think about it," said Morris. Six months later the doctor met Morris on the street. "Why didn't you ever come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist. "For a hundred bucks a visit?  My teenage son cured me for free." "Is that so! How did he do that?"

"He told me to cut the legs off the bed!"

For those of you who don't speak Yiddish, Chazir (or Haser) means pig and Fresser (or Freser) means glutton.

One day Yankel succombed to eating a small piece bacon.

He felt so remorseful that he had nightmares and couldn't sleep at all for a whole week. In the end Yankel became quite depressed about it. So he decided to go and see the rabbi.

"Hmm..., a small piece of bacon" said the rabbi, "you must start regularly attending shul, and after each prayer during the day you must say three chapters of tehillim."
Yankel agreed.

As soon as he could he went to shul and joined in the Mincha prayers. Then he sat down on a bench, picked up a sefer and started to read his three chapters of tehillim.

Yankel couldn't help noticing a chassid sitting next to him, with the full garb - black hat, payot, long beard, dressed in a black frock coat.

The chassid was also reading from the sefer tehillim, but not three chapters --- it looked like 20 or even more the way he was whizzing through them... No! It was forty chapters!

Yankel was shocked.
He thought to himself, "Such a pious Jew, with his black hat, payot and beard - and he would eat so much Treif!"

The Jewish man cringes, says nothing. "Ah knows you're in here and you'd better speak up," says the Western man. The Jewish man knows that sooner or later he would have to face up to him and accept the consequences of being Jewish especially in such a remote place as this.  He stands up proudly and says," I AM A JEW!" The Westerner stares at him angrily, " Now What the HELL are you hiding for? 

Come with me, ah needs you for a minyan." 

"Hallo David, I am so pleased to see you! It's my parents' Golden wedding anniversary next week and I would like you to come to the party."
"That's nice, Abe. Thank you, yes, I will come." "Maybe you have some friends you can bring mit you, yes? It's nice to have many people at a party!" "Yes... I can bring Sammy Cohen, and also Itzy Schwartz." "Good, good! Only don't forget to remind them to bring something gold." "Okay! I'll tell them."

So David Rosenbaum brought a goldfish, Sammy Cohen brought a jar of Gold Blend coffee and Itzy Schwartz brought Nat Goldstein.

So did you hear that they are considering letting Israel and El Al take over Reagan National Airport for security purposes?

Of course we'd have to change the name of the airport, To Hebrew National.

The boy then thought for a minute and then asked his father:  "Dad, what are Arabs?"

Morris, the old guy fingered his worsted wool vest and said, "Well, son, it was 1932. The depth of the Great Depression. I was down to my last nickel.
So I invested that nickel in an apple. I spent the entire day polishing the apple and, at the end of the day, I sold the apple for ten cents.
The next morning, I invested those ten cents in two apples. I spent the entire day polishing them and sold them at 5:00 pm for 20 cents.
I continued this system for a month, by the end of which I'd accumulated the sum of $1.60.....

Then my wife's uncle Bernie died and left us two million dollars."

So he was sent to sell Polish cars to the Germans. Two weeks later, he returned with a signed contract. Surprised by still eager to oust the Jew, they sent him off to the United States to sell Polish computers. A month later he comes home, signed contracts overfilling his briefcase. Stunned, but now more determined than before, the politburo sends him off to the People's Republic of China to sell Polish rice. Months pass and the Poles are glad they haven't heard from him. Then one day, about six months after he left, he shows up for their regularly scheduled meeting, signed contract in hand. "But ... how did you manage it?" they demand.

"It was tough" he acknowledged. "It took me six months to find another Jew."

Fearing the end of his career, he quickly called his cousin, Aaron, an insurance broker by trade. "Listen," said Mo, "is there such a thing as malpractice insurance for moyels?" "I've never heard of that before," said the insurance broker, "but let me check. Give me twenty four hours." The next day, Aaron called back his cousin Mo, and said, "Eureka! Lloyds of London will insure you for $2,000,000. The premium is only four hundred a year. That's the good news." "And the bad news?" asked Mo.

"There's a two-inch deductible!"

The shul President asks what gives with the "X", and Goldberg admits that he can't write. The President discusses this with the committee and they agree that it will not do to have an illiterate shamas, so they fire him. What is an unemployed shamas to do? He opens a grocery store.... And it does very well.... So he opens another.
He becomes so successful that very soon he has a chain of supermarkets. He decides to expand across the country and he gets a billion-dollar loan from the bank. The loan documents are placed before him for his signature. In the space he makes an "X". The bank Sr. V.P. looks at the "X" on the document, shakes his head and says to Goldberg: "Mr Goldberg, can you imagine what you could have become if only you knew how to write...?"

Goldberg answers, "Yes, I know... a shamas."

And sometimes the very act of celebration is reason for laughter. Here we ran a choice phrase through a simple anagram converter. Here are some of the more conspicuous recombinations of the phrase "celebrate, the high holidays":

the deliberately high chaos,
high hats echo deliberately,
each shot deliberately high,
horde be aesthetically high,
oh he dig herb aesthetically,
ah, hedge be the historic ally
hi herb, aesthetically he g-d