Communist jokes
Leonid Brezhnev wants to commission a painting to be called "Lenin in Poland". Russian painters, being trained in the Realist school, are unable to paint an event that had never actually occurred.
In desperation, Brezhnev is forced to ask the old Jewish painter Levy.
"Of course, I prefer to portray actual events", says Levy, "but I'll do the painting for you, comrade. It would be my great honour"
Brezhnev is delighted. Levy commences work on the painting.
Finally, the unveiling day arrives.
Everyone gasps as the cloth is removed to reveal a picture of a man in bed with a woman.
Brezhnev asks, horrified, "Who is that man?"
"That's Trotsky", says the artist.
"And who", Brezhnev enquires, "is that woman?"
"Comrade Brezhnev, that is Lenin's wife".
"But where is Lenin?"
"He's in Poland", Levy explained.
Why do East German police travel in threes?
One who can read, one who can write, and one to keep his eye on the two intellectuals.
Cracking new book by Ben Lewis called, "Hammer and Tickle, A History of Communism told through Communist Jokes".
Comments
Robin
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A man dies and goes to hell. There he discovers that he has a choice: he can go to capitalist hell or to communist hell. Naturally, he wants to compare the two, so he goes over to capitalist hell.
There outside the door is the devil, who looks a bit like Ronald Reagan. "What's it like in there?" asks the visitor. "Well," the devil replies, "in capitalist hell, they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives."
"That's terrible!" he gasps. "I'm going to check out communist hell!" He goes over to communist hell, where he discovers a huge queue of people waiting to get in. He waits in line. Eventually he gets to the front and there at the door to communist hell is a little old man who looks a bit like Karl Marx. "I'm still in the free world, Karl," he says, "and before I come in, I want to know what it's like in there."
"In communist hell," says Marx impatiently, "they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil, and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives."
But… but that's the same as capitalist hell!" protests the visitor, "Why such a long queue?"
"Well," sighs Marx, "Sometimes we're out of oil, sometimes we don't have knives, sometimes no hot water…"