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An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort inched himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. There, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table, were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he moved himself toward the table. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was almost already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand, shakily made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
"Stay out of those," she said, "they're for the funeral."
Einstein dies and goes to heaven. At the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter tells him, “You look like Einstein, but you have NO idea the lengths that some people will go to sneak into Heaven. Can you prove who you really are?”
Einstein ponders for a few seconds and asks, “Could I have a blackboard and some chalk?”
Saint Peter snaps his fingers and a blackboard and chalk instantly appear. Einstein proceeds to describe with arcane mathematics and symbols his theory of relativity.
Saint Peter is suitably impressed. “You really ARE Einstein!” he says. “Welcome to heaven!”
The next to arrive is Picasso. Once again, Saint Peter asks for credentials.
Picasso asks, “Mind if I use that blackboard and chalk?”
Saint Peter says, “Go ahead.”
Picasso erases Einstein’s equations and sketches a truly stunning mural with just a few strokes of chalk.
Saint Peter claps. “Surely you are the great artist you claim to be!” he says. “Come on in!”
Then Saint Peter looks up and sees George W. Bush. Saint Peter scratches his head and says, “Einstein and Picasso both managed to prove their identity. How can you prove yours?”
George W. looks bewildered and says, “Who are Einstein and Picasso?”
Saint Peter sighs and says, “Come on in, George.”
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