As retold by Bruce Lowitt

Five Jews are playing poker in the condo clubhouse. One of them loses five hundred dollars on one hand, staggers to his feet and drops dead at the table.

"Who is going to tell his wife?" one says.

They draw straws and, naturally, Weinstein, the shlemazl picks the short one.

"Look," they tell him. "Don't make a bad situation any worse than it is. Be discreet. Be very gentle."

"Discreet?" Weinstein says. "I am the very paragon of discretion."

"Whatever," they say. "Just make it as easy as possible for her."

Weinstein goes to the apartment and taps on the door.

"Who is it?" the wife says from the kitchen.

"It's Weinstein. Um, your husband, um, he just lost five hundred dollars playing poker."

"What?" the woman says, flinging open the door. "That putz, he should only drop dead!"

"From your mouth to God's ears."