You know that tingly little feeling you get when you like someone?

That’s common sense leaving your body.

Whether a man winds up with the nest egg or a goose egg depends a lot on the kind of chick he marries.

Morris Schwartz is on his deathbed, knows the end is near; is with his nurse, his wife, his daughter, and two sons. “So,” he says to them:

“Bernie, I want you to take the Beverly Hills houses.”

“Sybil, take the apartments over in Los Angeles Plaza.”

“Hymie, I want you to take the offices over in City Center.”

“Sarah, my dear wife, please take all the residential buildings downtown.”

The nurse is just blown away by all this, and as Morris slips away, she says, “Mrs. Schwartz, your husband must have been such a hard working man to have accumulated all this property.”

Sarah replies, “Property? The schmuck has a paper route!”

A police recruit was asked during the exam, “What would you do if you had to arrest your own mother?”

He said, “Call for backup.”

Writers don’t get mad. They just write you into their next novel as the victim.

As you may know, some people have brushes with the authorities from time to time on the way home after a “social session,” or a night out with friends.

Well, two days ago I was out for an evening with friends and had several beers followed by some rather nice red wine. Although I was feeling jolly, I still had the sense to know that I may be slightly over the limit.

That’s when I did something that I’ve never done before — I took a cab home.

Sure enough, on the way home there was a police road block, but since it was a cab they waved it past. I arrived home safely without incident.

This was a real surprise as I had never driven a cab before, I don’t know where I got it, and now that it’s in my garage, I don’t know what to do with it.