A man is going from door to door. He stops at one house and knocks on the door. A man opens the door. The door-to-door salesman says, “Hello sir, today we’re going door-to-door looking for those who might be interested in making a donation to the retirement home.”
“Sure, that sounds great!” exclaims the man. “Grandma, grab your coat!”
Three mothers are sitting on a park bench talking about (what else?) how much their sons love them.
Sadie says, “You know the Chagall painting hanging in my living room? My son, Arnold, bought that for me for my 75th birthday. What a good boy he is and how much he loves his mother.”
Minnie says, “You call that love? You know the Eldorado Cadillac I got for Mother’s Day? That’s from my son Bernie. What a doll.”
Shirley says, “That’s nothing. You know my son Stanley? He sees a psychoanalyst on Park Ave. Five sessions a week. And what does he talk about? Me.”
Little Willie came home in a sad state. He had a black eye and numerous scratches and contrusions, and his clothes were a sight. His mother was horrified at the spectable presented by her darling. There were tears in her eyes as she addressed him rebukingly:
“Oh Willie, Willie! How often have I told you not to play with that naughty Peck boy!”
Little Willie regarded his mother with an expression of deepest disgust.
“Say, ma,” he objected, “do I look as if I had been playing with anybody?”
A property manager of single-family residence was showing a unit to prospective tenants and asking the usual questions. “Professionally employed?” he asked.
“We’re a military family,” the wife answered.
“Oh, yes, ages nine and twelve,” she answered proudly.
“Oh, no,” she said earnestly. “They’re very well behaved.”