After only a year in Canada, a Polish man got married to a nice Canadian girl. They got along quite well until the day he rushed into his lawyer’s office and begged him to arrange a quick divorce. The lawyer said, “What are the circumstances? Have you any grounds?” And the Polish immigrant replied, “Ja, ja, ve’ve got an acre and a half with a nice little house.” “No, I mean, what is the foundation of your case?” “It’s made of concrete.” “Does either of you have a grudge?” “No, but we have a big carport.” “I mean, what are your relations like?” “All my relations are in Poland.” “Is there any infidelity in your marriage?” “Yes, we have high fidelity stereo and a CD player.” “No, I mean, does your wife beat you up? “No, I get up before her.” “Is your wife a nagger?” “What? No, she’s white.” “Why do you want this divorce anyway?” “She’s gonna kill me. She’s going to poison me.” “Really? What makes you think so?” “I’ve got proof.” “What kind of proof?” “She brought home a bottle from the drug store that says, ‘Polish Remover!'”