The only thing I can say about W. C. Fields … is this: Any man who hates dogs and babies can't be all bad. - Leo Rosten

Two Jewish k’nockers, approaching Honolulu, got into an argument about the correct pronunciation of Hawaii: one was sure it was “Hawaii,” the other positive it was “Havaii.” They made a bet. When they got off the plane, they hurried over to the first native they saw and said, “Aloha! How do you pronounce the name of this island: Hawaii or Havaii?” “Havaii,” said the native. “Thank you.” “You’re velcome,” said the native.

Two cheder students were discussing how hard and tiring their studies had become, and impulsively one blurted: “Let’s run away!” “Run away? … Our fathers would catch up with us and give us a sound thrashing.” “So we’ll hit them back!” “What? Hit your father?! You must be mad. Have you forgotten the Commandment — always to honor your father and mother?” “Mmh…. So you hit my father and I’ll hit yours.

Any reader who feels superior to such quaint English might remember that when the overwhelming majority of humankind was illiterate, it was hard to find a Jewish lad over six who could not read and write (Hebrew). Most adult male Jews could handle at least three languages: they used Hebrew in the synagogues and houses of study (see Besmedresh), Yiddish in the home, and — to Gentiles — the language of the land in which they lived. My father, a workingman denied the equivalent of a high school education in Poland, handled Yiddish, English, Hebrew, and Polish. Jews were linguists of necessity.