Dear David, among other things, I'm a book-seller on the streets of New York, 85th & Broadway to be precise. So I meet a lot of people on the Upper West Side. One elderly Jewish man I met was telling me that he grew up as a kid in Brooklyn and spoke Yiddish at home. There was a funeral parlour nearby with the name, I.G. Morris. When his mother would get angry or annoyed at someone, she would say, "Lozz-im gehn auf I.G. Morris!" (Letm go to I.G. Morris!) This cracked me up for several days! So although it is not a joke, you can easily picture this scene.
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