On his death bed, an old jew says to his wife:
Oh, Sarah, when the shop burned down you were right beside me, no? – Sure I was, Moshe.
When the Nazis drove us out of our beloved Deutschland you were beside me again, no? – I was, Moshe.
And now you’re at my death bed, aren’t you? – I am, darling.
I’m starting to think you’re bad luck, Sarah.