Bob: How are we going to sing tonight with these colds?
Charlie: I’ll sing solo and you sing tenor!
Bob: Solo? Tenor? What in the world are you talking about?
Charlie: I’ll sing solo, so low that I can’t be heard! You sing tenor, ten or twelve miles down the road!
A stage mother cornered the concert violinist in his dressing room and insisted he listen to a tape of her talented son playing the violin.
The man agreed to listen, and the woman switched on the tape player. “What music!” the violinist thought. A difficult piece, but played with such genius that it brought tears to his eyes. He listened spellbound to the entire recording.
“Madam,” he whispered, "is that your son?”
“No," she replied. “That’s Jascha Heifetz. But my son sounds just like him!”