Einstein, Picasso, George W. Bush to Heaven

When Einstein died and arrived at the gates of heaven, St. Peter wouldn't let him in until he proved his identity. Einstein scribbled out a couple of his equations, and was admitted into paradise.
And when Picasso died, St. Peter asked, "How do I know you're Picasso?" Picasso sketched out a couple of his masterpieces. St. Peter was convinced and let him in. When George W. Bush died, he went to heaven and met the man at the gates. "How can you prove to me you're George W. Bush?" Saint Peter said. Bush replied, "Well heck, I dont know." St. Peter says, "Well, Albert Einstein showed me his equations and Picasso drew his famous pictures. What can you do to prove you're George W. Bush?" Bush replies, "Who are Albert Einstein and Picasso?"
St. Peter says, "It must be you, George, c'mon on in."

Musician's Suitcase

On their way to a classical music concert, a mother and daughter board the subway. “Look over there,” the mother says, “The man with the big suitcase. That’s the musician we are going to see in concert tonight!” Just as the mother speaks, the man reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a shiny violin.
The musician stands up. “Excuse me,” he says, “but I need to practice for my concert, I hope you don’t mind.” The people sitting around him grumble an incoherent response. “Thank you,” he says. Then he bends down and whispers into his suitcase, “You guys can come out now.”
Two completely naked little people, a little man and a little woman, climb out of the suitcase. The musician looks at them and says, “90 please.” At which point the little people immediately begin to make passionate love.
“Oh my gosh!” The mother screams.
Fwap, fwap, fwap, comes the rhythmic sound of the little people’s lovemaking to a stunned crowd. Then the musician begins to play. His violin sings of sadness and loss, love and beauty, and by the time the song is over nearly everyone has tears in their eyes.
For a moment, there is complete silence. Then thunderous applause fills the train.
The mother and daughter approach the musician. “That was incredible,” the mother says, “but…do you need the midgets having sex? There are children here!”
The musician reaches down and rests his hand proudly on the naked little man’s shoulder, “Of course! This is the best fucking metro gnome I could find.”

Lead Singer

Q: How do you tell when your lead singer is at the door?
A: He can't find the key and doesn't know when to come in.