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In Germany everything is prohibited except for what is permitted. In France everything is permitted, even what is prohibited. In the USSR everything is prohibited, even what is permitted. ....................... Once Stalin received a delegation of workers from the Urals. When the workers left, Stalin looked around for his pipe but did not see it. He called the Chairman of the KGB Lavrentiy Beria and said, "Lavrentiy Pavlovich, my pipe disappeared after the visit of those workers." "Yes, Yosif Vissarionovich, I'll immediately take proper measures." Ten minutes later, Stalin pulled out a drawer in his desk and saw his pipe. He struck a match, puffed out a ring of smoke, and dialed Beria's number. "Lavrentiy Pavlovich, my pipe's been found." "What a pity," Beria said. "All of them have already confessed."
All kidding aside, Beria was a monster, he liked snatching young girls and raping them. It was a little easier for Mao, families brought their young girls to him. It just goes to show that in order to keep a tyranny running, you have to hire the most corrupt souls out there. Saddam had son who liked doing the same thing..
Here is a Soviet joke I have never completely understood:
Stalin calls his foreign minister Molotov into his office and grimly informs him, “Listen, Vyacheslav Ivanovich, something very disturbing has come up. I keep hearing reports that you’re a Jew.”
Molotov breaks into a cold sweat, “B-b-but dear Josef Vissarionovich, you know that’s not true! It can’t possibly be true. You’ve known me for all these years!!”
Stalin puffs on his pipe and pauses ominously; “All the same,” he intones, “you’d better think it over”.
Isvestiya - a newspaper or news agency (not sure) in Russia. "Isvestiya" means "news."
I've heard there is a Russian saying that there's no Pravda in Isvestiya and no Isvestiya in Pravda. :)
Sauron
Comrade, did you hear that Stalin is cooking breakfast?
Lubyanka, it’s not just for breakfast, anymore.
Thanks, folks, I’ll be hear all week. Try the veal.
This is Armenian Radio; our listeners asked us: “What is it that starts with an R and never ends?”
We’re answering: “Reorganization.”....In America it seems to be “Reform.” Reformed healthcare, reformed immigration, reformed food standards. Just enforce the PREVIOUS “reforms” and see if that don’t work (for once).
Okay, while we’re telling old Soviet jokes, here’s my favorite:
A rumor made the rounds that a shop actually had meat for sale, and a large queue formed outside.
The shopkeepers were dismayed, and came out to announce, “There’s less meat than expected. All the Jews will have to go home.”
The line thins out a bit. After a while, the shopkeeper comes out and announces, “Comrades, I’m very sorry there is even less meat than expected, everyone who is not a Party member will have to go home.”
Again, after a bit of a wait, the shopkeeper comes out, and announces, “I’m very sorry the shipment was short, everyone who is not a veteran of the October Revolution will have to go home.”
Three old Bolsheviks are left and shuffle up to the door. The shopkeeper is appalled. “Comrades, I’m very sorry but there actually isn’t any meat.”
One of the old Bolsheviks turns to the others and says, “What did I tell you? The Jews get the best of everything!”
These are hilarious. Thank you for posting.
Hopefully, they’ll remain dated instead of needing to be updated.
The Soviets set up a Playboy Club in Moscow, and the attendance is dismal.
“I can’t understand” says the manager, “We have the finest liquors, the best food, the skimpiest outfits, and all the bunnies have been loyal party members for at least 40 years!”
I think it was Yakov Smirnoff who had a routine in which he said that while in Russia, his father bought a car, with a promised delivery on a certain day five years from now. The father asked what time of day it would be delivered. The dealer asked him why that was important. He said that the plumber was also coming that day and he didn’t want a conflict.
HA! It must be old Soviet joke day.
Megan McArdle had one in her column today:
A man stands in line all day for bread, only to have the baker come out and say there is none. He loses it, and begins ranting about the government. Eventually, a man in a trench coat puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Be careful, comrade. You know, in the old days, it would have been …” and he mimes a gun pointed at the head.
The man walks home, dejected. When he walks in the door, his wife takes one look at his face and drops the plate she is holding.
“What’s wrong, Ivan? Were they out of bread?”
“It’s worse than that. They’re out of bullets.”
The title of her piece - Obamacare is running out of bullets.