Sitting on the side of the highway waiting to catch speeding drivers, a State Police Officer sees a car puttering along at 22 MPH. He thinks to himself, “This driver is just as dangerous as a speeder!” So he turns on his lights and pulls the driver over.
Approaching the car, he notices that there are five elderly ladies, eyes wide and white as ghosts. Bubbie, obviously confused, says to him, “Officer, I don’t understand, I was doing exactly the speed limit! What seems to be the problem?”
“Ma’am,” the officer replies, “you weren’t speeding, but you should know that driving slower than the speed limit can also be a danger to other drivers.”
“Slower than the speed limit?” she asked. “No sir, I was doing the speed limit exactly… 22 MPH!” Bubbie says proudly.
The State Police officer, trying to contain a chuckle explains to her that “22” was the route number, not the speed limit. A bit embarrassed, she grinned and thanked the officer for pointing out her error.
The officer said, “But before I let you go, ma’am, I have to ask. Is everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully shaken, and they haven’t muttered a single peep this whole time,” the officer says.
Bubbie replied, “Oh, they’ll be all right in a minute officer. We just got off Route 119.”
***
The upset and concerned housewife Rivkah sprang to the telephone when it rang and listened with relief to the kindly voice.
“Darling, how are you? This is Momma.”
“Oh Momma,” she said, “I’m having a bad day.” Breaking into bitter tears, she continued, “The baby won’t eat and the washing machine broke down. I haven’t had a chance to go shopping, and besides, I’ve just sprained my ankle and I have to hobble around. On top of that, the house is a mess and I’m supposed to have the Goldbergs and Rosens for dinner tonight.”
The voice on the other end said in sympathy, “Darling, let Momma handle it.” She continued, “Sit down, relax and close your eyes. I’ll be over in half an hour. I’ll do your shopping, clean up the house and cook your dinner for you. I’ll feed the baby and I’ll call a repairman I know who’ll be at your house to fix the washing machine promptly. Now stop crying. I’ll do everything. In fact, I’ll even call your husband Morty at the office and tell him he ought to come home and help out for once.”
“Morty?” said Rivkah. “Who’s Morty?”
“Why, Morty’s your husband!….Is this 223-1374?”
“No, this is 223-1375.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I have the wrong number.”
There was a short pause, then Rivkah said, “Does this mean you’re not coming over?”
***
A young woman brings home her fiance to meet her parents. After dinner, her mother tells her father to find out about the young man. The father invites the fiance to his study for a drink.
“So what are your plans?” the father asks the young man.
“I am a Torah scholar,” he replies.
“A Torah scholar. Hmmm,” the father says. “Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she’s accustomed to?”
“I will study,” the young man replies, “and G-d will provide for us.”
“And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?” asks the father.
“I will concentrate on my studies,” the young man replies. “G-d will provide for us.”
“And children?” asks the father. “How will you support the children?”
“Don’t worry, sir. G-d will provide,” replies the fiance.
The conversation proceeds like this, and each time the father questions, the young idealist insists that G-d will provide.
Later that evening the mother asks, “How did it go, Honey?”
The father answers, “He has no job and no plans, but the good news is he thinks I’m G-d.”