Rome Jokes



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Rome Jokes


Two beggars were sitting side by side on a street in Rome, Italy. One had a Cross in front of him; the other one was holding the Star of David.

Many people went by, looked at both beggars, but only put money into the hat of the beggar sitting behind the Cross.

The Pope came by. He stopped to watch the throngs of people giving money to the beggar who held the Cross while none gave to the beggar holding the Star of David. He felt sorry for him.

Finally, the Pope approached the beggar with the Star of David and said. “My poor fellow, don’t you understand? This is a Catholic country; this city is the seat of Catholicism. People aren’t going to give you money if you sit there with a Star of David in front of you, especially when you’re sitting beside a beggar who is holding a Cross. In fact, they would probably give more money to him just out of spite!”

The beggar with the Star of David listened to the Pope, smiled, turned to the beggar with the Cross, and said. “Moishe, would you look who’s trying to teach the Goldstein brothers about marketing?”

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Why don’t they sell GPSs in Italy?

Because all the roads lead to Rome.

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Why did the Roman chicken cross the road?

She was afraid someone would Caesar.

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A lot of William Shakespeare’s plays were based on old Greek and Roman performances.

That’s playgarism if you ask me.

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After Jesus’s trial was complete, he asked the Roman soldier closest to him what was going to happen next.

“I don’t know. I’ll keep you posted.”

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Why did the blood-sucking insect learn Latin?

It wanted to be a Roman-tic.

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Benson runs a nail factory and decides his business needs a bit of advertising.

He has a chat with a friend who works in marketing, and he offers to make a TV ad for Benson’s Nails.

“Give me a week,” says the friend, “and I’ll be back with an ad.”

A week goes by, and the marketing executive comes to see Benson. He opens his laptop and presses play:

A Roman soldier is busy nailing Jesus to the cross. He turns to face the camera and says with a grin, “Use Benson’s Nails, they’ll hold anything.”

Benson goes mad, shouting, “What is the matter with you? They’ll never show that on TV. Give it another try, but no more Romans crucifying Jesus!”

Another week goes by, and the marketing man comes back to see Benson with another ad.

He turns his laptop around and hits play. This time, the camera pans out from a Roman standing with his arms folded to show Jesus on the cross. The Roman looks up at him and says, “Benson’s Nails, they’ll hold anything.”

Benson is beside himself, “You don’t understand: I don’t want anything with Jesus on the cross! Now listen, I’ll give you one last chance. Come back in a week with an advertisement that I can broadcast.”

A week passes, and Benson waits impatiently.

The marketing executive arrives and puts on the new video. A naked man with long hair, gasping for breath, is running across a field. About a dozen Roman soldiers come over the hill, hot on his trail. One of them stops, turns to the camera, and says, “If only we had used Benson’s Nails!”

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If your wife ever gets you a gladiator uniform, it’s a pretty good sign.

She wants you to be more Roman-tic.

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At the request of my wife, I have placed an order for a box of ants to be shipped from Italy.

She said we need more Rome ants in our relationship.

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A man was getting a haircut before a trip to Rome.

He mentioned the trip to his barber who responded, “Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty and full of tourists. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”

“We’re taking American Airlines,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!”

“American Airlines?” exclaimed the barber. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly and they’re always late. So where are you staying in Rome?”

“We’ll be at the downtown International Marriott.”

“That dump? That’s the worst hotel in the city. The rooms are small, the service is surly and they’re overpriced.

So whatcha’ doing when you get there?”

“We’re going to go see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope.”

“That’s rich,” laughed the barber. “You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours.

You’re going to need it.”

A month later, the man again came in for his regular haircut.

The barber asked him about his trip to Rome.

“It was wonderful!” explained the man, “Not only were we on time in one of American Airlines’ brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a beautiful 28-year-old stewardess who waited on me hand and foot.

And the hotel—it was great! They’d just finished a $25 million remodeling job, and now it’s the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the presidential suite at no extra charge!”

“Well,” muttered the barber, “I know you didn’t get to see the Pope.”

“Actually, we were quite lucky, for as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me.

Sure enough, five minutes later the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me.”

“Really?” asked the barber. “What’d he say?”

“He said ‘Where’d you get the crappy haircut?’”

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Why don’t Romans find algebra interesting?

X is always 10.

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