A man who drinks a cup of zektz un neintzig (96% alcohol spirits, for the uninitiated) every day comes to the doctor at the age of seventy. The doctor tells him he has water in his lungs. He says “Ach, I knew that four percent would kill me!”.
A man walls out of the bar drunk, which a bottle of shnapps in his pocket. He trips and falls. He reaches to his leg and feels that his pocket is wet. He says, “I hope that’s blood”.
Any other kiddush club classics?