Two Irish jews walk into the local pub, O'Moishe's, and sit down at the bar. Hymie McAaron orders the usual, a pint of Mogen David sacramental concord wine. His mate, Irv O'Solomon, says to Hymie, "Can ye stand me a pint mate? I invested me wages in a short-term bond and haven't two pennies to rub together."

Hymie glares at Irv and scowls, "'Tis money I'm made of then? And would ye have me drink it for ye as well? But if ye insist, I'll stand ye a pint for the evenin' at 10% compounded."

Irv stammers, "9%?! In all of County Qumran there's not a feckin' iddjit what would pay 8% compounded...but I've got a powerful cravin', and so if you insist, it's 7% fer me pint."

Hymie beams and wipes the purple foam from his lips onto his tallis, showing his few remaining teeth stained with purple wine and black with rot. "Oy! Fer a blessin', then 12% it is, and not a shillin' more..."

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