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From: ktw@whuxi.UUCP (WOLMAN)
Newsgroups: net.jokes
Subject: Offensive to Italian Immigrants (REPOSTED MINUS MACROS!)
Message-ID: <157@whuxi.UUCP>
Date: Thu, 6-Dec-84 17:03:37 EST
Article-I.D.: whuxi.157
Posted: Thu Dec  6 17:03:37 1984
Date-Received: Fri, 7-Dec-84 02:33:13 EST
Organization: Bell Labs, Whippany, N.J.
Lines: 53


            In 1904, a poor Italian immigrant, just  debarked  from
       steerage   and   quarantine  at  Ellis  Island,  arrives  on
       Manhattan Island and decides to get himself a  decent  meal.
       He enters a cafe and sits down at one of the tables.

            Because it is the middle of lunch hour, the waitress is
       harried  beyond  belief,  and  forgets  to put a fork at the
       immigrant's place setting.  Very loudly he calls out to  her
       in thickly accented English:

            "Eh!  I wanna fuk onna table!  I wanna fuk onna table!"

            The waitress, misunderstanding his request, flies  into
       a  rage  and  summons  the manager, who flings the immigrant
       bodily into the street.

            The bemused immigrant dusts himself  off  and  suddenly
       realizes  he hasn't had a decent night's sleep since he left
       Naples two weeks before. He goes to a nearby hotel and  gets
       a room.

            When he arrives, the chambermaid is making up his  bed.
       She  has  not yet found a sheet.  The immigrant calls out to
       her:

            "Eh!  I wanna shit onna bed!  I wanna shit onna bed!"

            The  chambermaid,  like  the   waitress   before   her,
       misunderstands the immigrant's request.  She screams for the
       house detective, who  drags  the  poor  immigrant  down  the
       stairs and flings him into the street.

            The immigrant decides to have a drink.  He marches into
       a  saloon, and five minutes later sails through the swinging
       doors into the street,  landing  on  the  curb.   A  passing
       police  officer  witnesses the scene and helps the immigrant
       to his feet.

            "And what  moyt  the  trouble  be,  me  man?"  the  cop
       enquires.

            "Eh!" says the immigrant.  "I can unnastan'  dey  getta
       mad  when I say I wanna fuk onna table.  I can unnastan' dey
       getta mad when I say I wanna shit onna  bed!   But  I  CANNA
       unnastan'  why dey getta so mad when I singa a good 'Merican
       song!"

            "And what moyt you have been  singin',  me  good  man?"
       asks the cop.


"YANKA MY DOODLE, IT'S A DANDY!"