A snobbish school teacher was quizzing his students about their family backgrounds to gauge their upbringings.
“Johnny,” the teacher asked, “what’s the first thing your father does in the morning?”
“He takes a dump, sir,” Johnny replied.
“And what does your father do for a living?”
“He’s a bricklayer, sir.”
The teacher sighed, silently blaming the crude language on a working-class upbringing. Trying again, he turned to the next boy. “Bobby, what about your father? What does he do first thing in the morning?”
“He takes a dump, sir,” Bobby answered.
“And his profession?”
“He’s a carpenter, sir.”
Convinced that refined vocabulary only existed in wealthy households, the teacher confidently turned to the class overachiever. “Freddy, your father is a prominent lawyer. Tell the class, what does he do first thing in the morning?”
“He reads The New York Times, sir,” Freddy replied politely.
The teacher beamed, thoroughly vindicated. “Wonderful! Now tell us, Freddy, how long does he usually spend reading the morning paper?”
Freddy replied, “Oh, not long, sir—just until he’s finished taking a dump.”
