One of the advantages of age is finding old jokes one has forgotten about, so they’re new again. Like these Quaker gems that just turned up:
The Clerk had just worked through an extended monthly business meeting, where unified decisions were hard to come by.
After a long silent pause, she glanced down at the agenda.
“I believe we have one more item,” she said, “a report on the new Queries. Is the committee ready with a final draft?”
A Male Friend of a certain age stood up. His expression was a bit sheepish. “Clerk, please,” he said, “I don’t think we’re quite finished, but we did come to unity on sharing some newly-proposed ones.”
“Very well,” Abraham,” the Clerk said, as he unfolded a sheet of paper. “Proceed.”
“Thank thee,” said Abraham, and cleared his throat. “New Query Number one: What does thee call fake spaghetti?”
“What?” Said the Clerk, sure she had misheard. “What??”
Abraham smiled. “Why, thee calls it an im-pasta.”
“Did you say–?” The Clerk demanded.
“Oh, not me,” Abraham answered, “it’s Query #2, which is, What did a yoga instructor say, when the landlord tried to evict her?”
The Clerk rolled her eyes. “And that was—?”
“‘Namaste,’” Was the answer.
“Really? The Clerk groaned. “I suppose we must also hear hear new Query #3 . . .”
“Certainly,” Abraham was ready. “The third Query is: why did the Quaker farmer win an award?”
“I’ve no idea,” the exasperated Clerk admitted. “Why?
“Simple,” Abraham grinned. “Because he was outstanding in his field.
At this, the Clerk held up a palm for quiet. Then she reached into a box on the nearby bench and drew from it a gray bonnet and a battered broadbrim.
“—And now,” she said firmly, “I’ll tell THEE the New Query #4.”
“You will??” Said Abraham.
“Yes.” The Clerk picked up the bonnet. “Query #4: what did one Quaker hat say to the other?”
“Umm,” Abraham muttered, “I don’t think—
“It said,” the Clerk announced, jiggling the bonnet, ”Thee stay here, I’m going on ahead.”
She slipped on the bonnet, and faced the other Friends. “This meeting stands adjourned.”