There’s this joke about a priest who was an avid golfer. Every chance he could get, he could be found on the golf course swinging away. It was an obsession. One Sunday was a picture perfect day for golfing. The sun was out, no clouds in the sky, and the temperature was just right.
The preacher was in a quandary as to what to do, and shortly, the urge to play golf overcame him. He called an assistant to tell him that he was sick and could not do church, packed the car up, and drove three hours to a golf course where no one would recognize him. Happily, he began to play the course.
An angel up above was watching the preacher and was quite perturbed. He went to God and said, “Look at the preacher. He should be punished for what he is doing.”
God nodded in agreement. The preacher teed up on the first hole. He swung at the ball, and it sailed effortlessly through the air and landed right in the cup three hundred and fifty yards away. A picture perfect hole-in-one. He was amazed and excited.
The angel was a little shocked. He turned to God and said, “Begging Your pardon, but I thought you were going to punish him?!”
God smiled. “Think about it — who can he tell?”
Flash to Friday evening. Me and the Mrs are sitting on the couch. I’m fuuuuucking tired, reading and chatting away like you do. The sun had officially, ala Jewish law, set, but it was at the odd time of day before it was truly dark. The wind has been bad all day and it’s been raining. Suddenly, we hear a crash outside the window and I see something flapping.
I assume it’s the piping that runs outside the building (which you can see if you look just right from the window). I run up and look and there’s an umbrella. On the eleventh floor.
“Is that what I think it is?” I ask.
“Oh my god!” she replies.
“Mary Poppins is dead!” we shout out in unison.
I’m about to run and get the camera when it floats back down to the street, and I’m reminded it’s Shabbat. “Who’re you gonna tell at this hour?” she laughs at me.
Well, now I’m telling you, damn it!