i heard this from a taxi driver in london:

albert einstein dies and goes to heaven, where he is met at the pearly gates by st. peter. the latter says, welcome, mr. einstein. i see you do have a reservation. have you any identification?

einstein, naked, has nothing in writing, but begins to talk to st. peter about black holes and e=mc squared and all that. satisfied. st. peter opens the gates.

then pablo picasso dies and goes to heaven. st. peter greets him similarly and asks him to identify himself. picasso explains his blue period, and cubism, and all manner of post-impressionistic stuff, and, satisfied, st. peter opens the gates.

dan quayle dies and goes to heaven (we could substitute trump here, yes? i'll think about updating the joke later!) for reasons known only to the person who devised the joke, st. peter assures quayle that he has a reservation and asks him to identify himself. quayle is indignant. don't you recognize me? i was the second most powerful man in the world! i had my finger THIS CLOSE to the red button! what's wrong with you? let me in right now! st. peter apologetically explains, well, everyone has to go through the same procedure. it's nothing personal. albert einstein had to do it. pablo picasso had to do it. quayle explodes, albert WHO? pablo WHO? st. peter nods and says, okay, i believe you. you're dan quayle. right this way.

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