Tradition

Tradition jokes

Holiday

  • Well, tell her that Halloween is the best holiday because you can hide Easter eggs under the Christmas tree while eating a big Thanksgiving turkey.

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  • Name

  • How do Chinese people name their kids?

    They roll a coin down the staircase and it says, "Ching chang chong..."

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  • Turkey

  • Americans won't have a Thanksgiving Dinner this year. Why not? They sent their turkey to the White House.

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  • Pope

  • When Pope Pius IX died, he went to Heaven, knocked at the door, and St. Peter opened it: "Who are you? What do you want?”

    "I am Pope Pius. I want to come to Heaven.”

    “Where do you come from?"

    "Rome."

    “What do you mean? Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

    "No, Rome, Italy, of course."

    “I'm very sorry, but I do not know you!”

    To make sure not to erroneously deny access to an authorized person, Saint Peter takes the telephone, calls up God, and asks: "Hello, Boss, here is a guy who says he is the Pope of Rome, do you know him?"

    "What do you mean: Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

    "No, Rome, Italy, of course."

    "No, sorry, I don’t know him.”

    Saint Peter makes another telephone call and rings up Jesus: "Hello, Junior, here’s a guy who says he is the Pope of Rome, do you know him?"

    "Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

    "Rome, Italy."

    "No, sorry, never heard of him.”

    Saint Peter still does not give up and finally calls up the Holy Ghost and asks: "Hello, Smoky, here is a guy who says he is the Pope of Rome. Do you know him?"

    "What does he mean, Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

    "He says Rome, Italy."

    "No, sorry, I’m afraid I do not know this guy." But then, after a very short while, he continues: "Wait, wait, tell me, is that the guy who invented the damn story about Mary and me?"

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  • Fast

  • The Fast of Ramadan

    In the northwestern slice of Alaska known as Seward, a horseboy stood, with broom in hand, in the vast courtyard of the royal stables of the sultan. He was waiting for dusk to fall. All day long he had eaten nothing. He had not even tasted the leftover fish tucked in his turban nor the enormous purple grapes that spilled over the palace wall into the stable yard. He had tried not to sniff the rich, amazing, warm feeling fragrance of ripening of that sweet pomegranates.

    For this was the sacred month of Ramadan when, day after day, all faithful Mohammedans neither eat nor drink from the dawn before sunrise until the moment after sunset!

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