Manure

Schwartz, an elderly man, is resting peacefully on the porch of his small hotel outside Boca when he sees a cloud of dust up the road. He walks out to see who could be approaching: It is a Southern farmer with a wagon.
“Good afternoon,” says Schwartz.
“Afternoon,” says the farmer.
“Where you headed?” asks Schwartz.
“Town.”
“What do you have in the wagon?”
“Manure.”
“Manure, eh? What do you do with it?”
“I spread it over the fruit.”
“Well,” says Bernstein, “you should come over here for lunch someday. We use sour cream.”

Cheating

Feinstein returned home from a business trip to discover that his wife had cheated on him
“Who was it?” he roared. “That bastard Wolf?”
“No,” replied his wife. “It wasn’t Wolf.”
“Was it Green, that creep?”
“No, it wasn’t him.”
“I know — it must have been that idiot Sherman.”
“No, it wasn’t Sherman, either.”
Feinstein was furious. “Whatsa matter?” he cried. “None of my friends is good enough for you?”

The Million-Dollar Question for God

A poor man walking in the forest feels close enough to God to ask, “God, what is a million years to you?”
God replies, “My son, a million years to you is like a second to me.”
The man asks, “God, what is a million dollars to you?”
God replies, “My son, a million dollars to you is less than a penny to me. It means almost nothing to me.”
The man asks, “So God, can I have a million dollars?”
And God replies, “In a second.”