A family is at the dinner table. The son asks the father:
"Dad, how many kinds of воовs are there?"
The father, surprised, answers:
"Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, her вrеаsтs are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s, they are like pears, still nice, hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions."
"Onions?" the son asks.
"Yes. You see them and they make you cry."
This infuriates his wife and daughter. The daughter asks:
"Mom, how many different kinds of penises are there?"
The mother smiles and says,
"Well, dear, a man also goes through three phases. In his 20s, his реnis is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s, it's like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his 50s, it's like a Christmas tree."
"A Christmas tree?" the daughter asks.
"Yes: Dead from the root up, and the ваlls are just for decoration.”
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so let’s call me capitalism.
Your Mom, she’s the administrator of the money, so we’ll call her the Government.
We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll call you the people.
The nanny, we’ll consider her the Working Class.
And your baby brother, we’ll call him the Future.
Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him.
He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper.
So the little boy goes to his parents’ room and finds his mother sound asleep.
Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny’s room.
Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny.
He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I Understand the concept of politics now."
The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about."
The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is sсrеwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shiт."
Dear Son, I'm writing this slow 'cause I know youcan't read fast.
We don't live where we did when you left. Your dad read inthe paper that most accidents happen within twenty miles of home, so we moved. Won't beable to send you the address as the last Arkansas family that lived here took the numberswith them for their house, so they wouldn't have to change their address. This place has a washing machine.The first day I put four shirts in it, pulled the chain and haven't seen 'em since. It only rained twice this week, threedays the first time and four days the second time. The coat you wanted me to send to you,Aunt Sue said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with them heavy buttons,so we cut them off and put them in the pockets. We got a bill from the funeral home, andit said if we didn't make the final payment on Grandma's funderal bill, up she comes. About your sister, she had a baby thismorning. I haven't found out whether if it is a boy or a girl so don't know if youare an Aunt or Uncle. Your Uncle John fell in the whiskeyvat. Some men tried to get him out, but he fought them off playfully, so hedrowned. We cremated him and he burned for three days. Three of your friends went off thebridge in a pickup. One was driving and the other two were in the back. Thedriver got out. He rolled down the window and swam to safery. The other 2drowned. They couldn't get the tail gate down. Not much more news this time.Nothing much happened. If you don't get this letter, please let me know and I willsend another one. Love, Ma