Visiting her Son
The first Jewish President calls his mother in Queens and invites her for
Purim . "I'd like to," she says, "but it's so much trouble... First, I
have to get a cab to the airport, and I hate waiting on Queens Boulevard..."
"Mom!" he tells her, "I'm the President! You won't need a cab. I'll
send a limo."
"That would be nice, but I'll still have to get my ticket at the
airport... And try to get a seat on the plane... And I hate sitting in
the middle..."
"Mom! I'm the President of the United States! I'll send Air Force One!"
"Yes, well, but when we land, I'll still have to carry my luggage
through the airport... And try to find a cab... And you know what
holiday crowds are like..."
"Mom! I'll have a helicopter pick you up! You'll go straight from the
plane to my front lawn!"
"I don't know... I'd still need a hotel room. And hotels are so
expensive... And they're not like they once were..."
"Ma! You'll stay at the White House!"
"Well..." She thinks. "I guess. All right," she sighs. "I'll
come...for you."
That afternoon, she's talking on the phone with one of her friends.
"What's new?" the friend asks.
"I'm visiting my son for Purim. "
"The doctor?"
"No... the other one."
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