by Robert Orben
Personally, I don’t trust China. Any country that has 950 million people and claims table tennis is their favorite indoor sport—will lie about other things too.
Chinese and Americans have a lot in common. For instance, the Chinese read from right to left. So do Americans, looking at menus.
No wonder the Chinese don’t get along with the Russians.
You ever try to eat borscht with chopsticks?
I don’t want to brag but my wife happens to be a China watcher. Every time I dry the dishes.
CHRISTMAS
Christmas has a wonderful message. It’s better to give than to receive. Internal Revenue has that same message.
I’m really worried about the commercialization of Christmas. Nowadays the only time you hear someone mention God is when they stick their finger in a Christmas light socket.
Lincoln said you can’t fool all of the people all the time. Lincoln never read the instructions for assembling Christmas toys!
The government is getting after firms that make dangerous toys. You’d be surprised how many toys have things on them that can hurt you—like the price tag.
The most unbelievable thing about Christmas is that poem about children hanging their stockings by the chimney with care. We live in an apartment—no chimney. Nowadays who owns stockings, and when have you ever heard of a kid hanging something up?
We have two kids and they’re always arguing. Like last Christmas one of them wanted a cat and the other wanted a dog. So we compromised. We got a cat and taught it how to bark.
It’s all in the way you look at it. To us he’s Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. To Dancer, Prancer, Donder, and Blitzen—he’s a wino!
You know what shakes me? Those fruit cakes made with brandy, rum, and whiskey! How do you come in at three o’clock in the morning and tell your wife you’ve had one slice too many?
I know a fella who came home from the Christmas office party and he’s in terrible trouble. His wife found lipstick on his collar … bone.
A truly religious person is someone who can find a spiritual message in a trombone solo of “Silent Night.”
On the eighty-third day after Christmas my true love sent to me—bills!
CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
Every time I go Christmas shopping, I know three things are going to give out on me—money, patience, and feet!
If you’re working on your Christmas shopping list, for the millionaire who has everything: a sauna that’s air-conditioned!
For janitors, doormen, and elevator operators, this is a tiptop time of the year. If you don’t tip, they blow their top.
I got the perfect Christmas present for my doctor.
A nurse who knows how to caddy!
Happiness is that brief glorious moment between the time your wife says she’s going to get you a hookah for Christmas—and when you realize that’s a Turkish pipe.
My wife always gives me strange things for Christmas—like a bath towel that says DRY-CLEAN ONLY.
Guess what I got for my wife? Perfume! But never again. I went up to the salesgirl and I said, “What kind of perfume do you have?” She said, “We have FINE AT NINE—GREAT AT EIGHT—and HEAVEN AT SEVEN.” I said, “HEAVEN AT SEVEN? Lady, we’ve been married for twenty-six years.” She said, “How about NIX AT SIX?”
You know the easiest way to avoid arguments with your wife at Christmastime? Promise her anything—and give it to her!
And with all these fancy bottles they’re putting liquor in, you really have to be careful. Like yesterday I poured myself an Arpège and soda!
All I want for Christmas is for my kids to hang up three things—stockings, mistletoe, and the phone!
CHRISTMAS (SANTA CLAUS)
Every Christmas we get a visit from the jolly gent with the great big bag over his shoulder. It’s my son home from college and the great big bag is laundry.
I think we should be very grateful to Santa Claus. He’s the only one who comes from overseas and gives instead of takes.
Santa Claus and Uncle Sam have a lot in common. They both leave goodies all over the world and wind up holding the bag.
If you look at the labels on toys this year, you realize Santa Claus is no longer at the North Pole. He’s in Hong Kong!
We know an old maid who still believes in Santa Claus—and anything else that lets her climb onto a man’s lap.
Fathers rise to great heights during the Christmas season. A father and his little daughter were standing in front of a department-store Santa Claus and he was saying, “Yes, Virginia, this is Santa Claus—and that was Santa Claus in Macy’s, and that was Santa Claus in Gimbel’s, and that was Santa Claus on the street corner.” His daughter said, “How can there be so many Santa Clauses?” He turned to the fella in the big red suit and said, “Santa, tell Virginia how you fell into the Xerox machine!”
Christmas in California is fascinating. Where else can you hear a department-store Santa Claus saying, “Don’t sit on my knee. It’s sunburned!”
My brother-in-law is a street-corner Santa Claus. He isn’t too bright but they did give him a sheet of instructions. In fact, this morning I was watching him work. He went: “Ho! Ho!” [LOOK DOWN AS IF READING INSTRUCTIONS] “Ho!”
Did you hear about the department-store Santa Claus who suffers from water on the knee—sometimes six or seven times a day?
This is the time of year when all parents tell their kids they’d better be good or Santa Claus won’t stop at their house. It’s called a Christmas club.
My wife is very good about Christmas. A department-store Santa Claus asked me what I wanted. I said, “A twenty-one-year-old blond sexpot.” And my wife said I’m gonna get it!
CHRISTMAS TREES
I passed one of those lots that sell Christmas trees. You know the kind. They’re dedicated to the proposition that only God can make a tree and only man can make a buck!
Wait’ll you see what they’re getting for Christmas trees this year. For the first time in history, you’re giving them more green than they’re giving you!
You should have seen the tree we wound up with. We paid twelve dollars for a tree that’s so small, I think it was planted in Israel—by Arabs!
This tree was so puny, three passersby sneered at it—and two of them were dogs!
I always feel guilty about an aluminum Christmas tree until I hear a fire truck go by.
CHURCH
Volunteer work is when you have to explain to your kids that Daddy hasn’t died. He just became president of his church.
As the head of any church board of trustees will tell you, after all is said and done, there’s a lot more said than done.
You hear some fascinating conversations on Sunday mornings. For instance: “I didn’t say he was cheap. I just said he was late for church because he had to change something.” “A tire?” “No. A dollar bill.”
I’m always suspicious of any church that tells you the end is near—and then asks you to sign a three-year Building Fund pledge.
You can always tell a church that isn’t doing well.
The Cadillac they raffle off is used.
I go to a Congregational church that’s so democratic, last week the minister said, “O Lord, we ask Thy forgiveness—48 to 33 with 12 abstentions!”
One church is so progressive, it’s doing a modernized version of the Christmas story. The three Wise Men are bringing gift certificates!
I could tell it was a progressive church when we all stood up to sing the first hymn—“Fine and Dandy.”
But you haven’t lived until you’ve gone to church in Detroit. Where else can you find bucket pews?
The minister asked me, “Are you a soldier in the Army of the Lord?” I said, “Yes I am.” He said, “Then why do we only see you at Christmas and Easter?” I said, “I’m in the Secret Service.”
What a wonderful motto for a German fundamentalist church: YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!
CITY LIFE
Nowadays when you live in the hear
t of the city, you start thinking about a transplant.
I come from a town where the city officials are so crooked, the Mafia is the reform group!
I think this city has finally achieved the goal of a classless society. I’ve never seen so many people with no class!
This city is really desperate for money. I just saw a coin-operated fire alarm.
It costs you about the same to live in cities as it does in the suburbs. What you save on carfare you spend on locks.
I had a terrible thing happen to me yesterday. Opportunity knocked on my door—and by the time I unhooked the chain, pushed back the bolt, turned the two locks, and shut off the burglar alarm—it was gone!
This is the only city I know where you figure muggings into your budget!
In this city you don’t walk for your health—you run!
There was a riot this morning at the city jail. The prisoners said the food was terrible. Then they broke down the door—with a sausage.
I’ll say one thing for this town: It has a very religious Sanitation Department. They only take up a collection once a week.
I don’t ask for much out of life. I just want to live in a city where the garbage is collected at least as often as the taxes.
Yesterday the head of our Highway Department said he’s very aware of the condition of our streets. In fact, he was personally going right out to fill eighteen holes. Then he picked up his golf clubs and left.
Life is so unfair. If you come across on the Mayflower, you’re honored. If you come across on Forty-seventh Street, you’re arrested.
I stepped out of my hotel and right away I met a girl who was mentioned three times in one of the greatest war songs every written: “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are Marching!”
I won’t say what some of these girls look like, but if someone puts an arm around you—you hope it’s a mugger!
CLEANLINESS
I’ve found that cleanliness is next to godliness—but in a six-year-old, it’s next to impossible.
It’s very discouraging. We have a six-year-old and the only four-letter word he doesn’t know is “soap”!
I mean, it’s one thing to be dirty but this kid has a belly button you could grow mushrooms in!
When he says he can’t hear too well, we don’t take him to an ear doctor. Roto-Rooter!
There’s no question about it, we have a problem. You can tell that by the three different kinds of soap we have in our bathroom—Lux for my wife, Dial for me, and Brillo for him!
Have you ever tried to give a six-year-old a bath? Sometimes I think the dirt is tattooed on!
And there are always telltale little signs when your kid isn’t taking enough baths. Like, he has the only bathrobe in town that gets dirty from the inside.
We try to bribe him to take baths. One time we got him three toy boats. I won’t say what the water looked like when he was through, but two of them went aground!
They gave an aptitude test in school and it really worries us. Sixteen kids were best suited to be a doctor. Twelve kids were best suited to be a lawyer. Eight kids were best suited to be an accountant. And he was best suited to be a swamp!
You know how some parents pin a kid’s mittens to his coat? We also pin something to his coat—Airwick!
Unfortunately, the kid has answers. One time I said, “Why can’t you be like Daddy and wash all that nasty dirt off your face?” He said, “I’d rather be like Mommy and cover it up with powder!”
The greatest problem facing the American family today can be summed up in six words: Ovens are self-cleaning and kids aren’t!
Kids really stick together. If you took a bath once a month, you’d be a little gummy too!
CLOSINGS
I have one favor to ask. For the last three weeks I’ve been practicing this speech in front of my dog. So if you want to make me feel at home, when I get to the finish, please don’t applaud. Just bark!
In conclusion, let’s all join together in singing the last stanza of: “I’ll Never Forget Sally Standing Aghast, As Her Panty Hose Slowly Sank to Half-mast!”
I have to be going now. I placed an order for twenty dollars’ worth of groceries and I want to be home when they slip it under the door.
And so, in closing, let me leave you with three phrases that, more than any others, sum up the spirit of the Christmas season: PEACE ON EARTH, GOODWILL TO ALL MEN, AND BATTERIES NOT INCLUDED!
And so in closing, let me leave you with the words of that famous horticulturist Luther Burbank, who said: “Never look down on a lily. Tomorrow that lily may be looking down on you!”
I leave you with this thought: LOVE THY NEIGHBOR. But remember to draw the blinds first.
CONVENTION CLOSING: And so, as we head home with faith in our hearts, information in our minds, bills in our pockets, and towels in our luggage …
ADJOURNMENT: And now, in the immortal words of Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer: “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
CLOTHING
There’s so much trouble in the world. Yesterday a five-year-old kid was in a department store with his mother and she said, “Hang on to my skirt.” The kid got a hernia from reaching.
Everybody likes to put on airs. I have an uncle who introduces himself as a man of the cloth. Big deal—he’s a tailor!
I go to one of those neighborhood clothing stores that has an answer for everything. If you like a suit that’s half a size too large, they don’t alter it. They buy you two pizzas and a malted!
Everything you buy today is imported. Look at this shirt. You know what the washing instructions were? “First—find a flat rock!”
I had a forty-two-dollar suit made in Hong Kong and it’s just great—once you get used to the diagonal zipper.
Forty-two dollars and it’s custom-tailored. I custom every time I wear it.
I like that suit. Who’s your tailor—Dear Shabby?
Our daughter is learning dressmaking. Last week she cut out a dress pattern on the floor. She wound up with two dresses. One silk and one broadloom.
My daughter had a very embarrassing experience Saturday night. She went to a party and someone else was wearing the very same outfit she was—her date.
More and more we’re beginning to look like the civilization of ancient Egypt. You can’t tell the daddies from the mummies.
I’m not going to say anything about the way kids look these days. Bum’s the word!
I saw a kid going to school this morning wearing an undershirt, blue jeans, no socks, and no shoes. My mother wouldn’t have let me leave the house like that if it was on fire!
I just figured out why so many kids wear sandals.
So they can count up to twenty.
My wife has one pantsuit with big brass buttons down the front, and every night I have this same nightmare—that I’m arrested for molesting a cop!
My wife wears support stockings that are so good, she’s the only woman I know who can faint standing up!
Girls, every time you get a run in one leg of your panty hose, cut off the leg with the run in it and save the panty hose. Eventually, you will have a set of panty hose with one good right leg and another set with one good left leg. Put them both on, one over the other, and you’ll have a perfectly good pair of panty hose! It’s efficient; it’s economical; and it confuses the hell out of sex maniacs!
My wife has one outfit that’s so sexy we can only send it to a mature dry cleaner.
COLLEGE
I complain about kids a lot, but when my oldest son leaves for college in the fall, he’ll leave an emptiness behind him. It’ll be in our savings account.
Behind every kid who completes four years of college there stand two parents who are also graduating—magna cum bankrupt.
It’s $115 a credit and that doesn’t include books. Do you know that some college books cost as much as $25? The last time I paid $25 for a book, I had to worry about Customs finding it!
Last week he brought home a new textbook. It has a
wonderful title: Proper English for You and I.
Nowadays there is only one sure way to get a decent high school education—go to college!
My son is a senior in college. I don’t know what they’re teaching him, but yesterday we were all sitting around the dinner table. My wife turns to me and says, “I sure hope he G-R-A-D-U-A-T-E-S!”
I don’t want to start any trouble, but have you noticed what kids are handed during their graduation ceremony? Dummy diplomas!
I heard two parents talking and one said, “My son took eight years to go through college. He’s a D.D.” The other parent said, “A doctor of divinity?” He said, “No. A dum-dum!”
And I just got a phone call from my daughter: “What’s that? You’re calling from college and you’re pregnant. How did that happen? He told you it was perfectly safe. Why was it perfectly safe? ’Cause the stork flies South for the winter.”
Kids study psychology to learn about anger, hostility, rejection, indifference, and all the other things their parents have learned from them.
COLLEGE ADMISSIONS
I’m really worried about the lowering of standards in American education. I can remember when if a high school student wanted to go to college, the admitting office would take his qualifications. Now they take his pulse.
Today, to get into a good college you have to satisfy its SAT requirements. If you SAT in a high school for four years, you’re in!
They’re letting kids into college who don’t even know how to write. For instance, they admitted one girl because she made straight A’s. The B’s she got a little crooked.
You can tell the colleges are lowering their standards. One kid took an aptitude test and he was stuck on the very first question. It said: “NAME?”
It kinda shakes you up to ask a senior the time and he says, “Wait a minute. I’ll look at my ticktock.”