Don’t Be Russian To Conclusions

My mother is in her eighties. One day, I come by while she is having a party with a few of her old-lady friends. The issue of race-relations comes up.

Old Lady #1: “I don’t see why anyone would have a problem with black people or Mexicans.”

Old Lady #2: “Right, we’re all the same in God’s eyes!”

Me: *Thinking* Gee, how nice to hear all these old people saying—”

Mother: “Except for those d*** Russians!”

Old Lady #1: “Yeah, and they stink, too!”

Old Lady #2: “And they eat soup with their bare hands!”

I was a bit bummed, but then I remembered that they had all lost family, and then their whole country, to Russian invaders.