So most people know about the strange U.S. custom of eating a giant turkey feast on the last Thursday of November. If you didn’t, well, that’s what we do. After which we have a lot of badly aging leftovers stuffed into our refrigerators for about a week. My mother used to create a myriad of soups, casseroles, and concoctions from the remains. I dare say my dad probably has a few Cool Whip containers that she’d left behind in the deep freezer from Thanksgivings long past… And knowing my dad, he’d probably eat them too.
Two men, sentenced to die on the same day, were led down to the room where the electric chair was. The priest had given them last rites, the formal speech had been given by the warden, and a final prayer had been said among the participants. The warden, turning to the first man, solemnly asked, “Son, do you have a last request?”
The man replied, “Yes sir, I do. I love dance music. Could you please play the Macarena for me one last time?”
“Certainly,” replied the warden.
He turned to the other man and asked, “Well, what about you, son? What is your final request?”
“Please,” said the condemned man, “Kill me first.”
A 4-year-old boy was asked to pray before Thanksgiving dinner. The family members bowed their heads in expectation.
He began his prayer, thanking the Lord for all his friends, naming them one by one.
Then he thanked the Lord for Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister, Grandma, Grandpa, and all his aunts and uncles. Then he began to thank the Lord for the food. He gave thanks for the turkey, the dressing, the fruit salad, the cranberry sauce, the pies, the cakes, even the Cool Whip.
Then he paused, and everyone waited — and waited.
After a long silence, the young fellow looked up at his mother and asked, “If I thank the Lord for the broccoli, won’t he know that I’m lying?”
A male patient is lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. A young student nurse appears and gives him a partial sponge bath.
“Nurse,”‘ he mumbles from behind the mask, “are my testicles black?”
Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, “I don’t know, Sir. I’m only here to wash your upper body and feet.”
He struggles to ask again, “Nurse, please check for me. Are my testicles black?”
Concerned that he might elevate his blood pressure and heart rate from worrying about his testicles, she overcomes her embarrassment and pulls back the covers. She raises his gown, holds his manhood in one hand and his testicles gently in the other.
She looks very closely and says, “There’s nothing wrong with them, Sir. They look fine.”
The man slowly pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her, and says very slowly, “Thank you very much. That was wonderful. Now listen very, very closely:
Are – my – test – results – back?”
Hung Chow calls in to work and says, “Hey, boss I not come work today, I really sick. I got headache, stomach ache and my legs hurt. I not come work.”
The boss says, “You know Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this I go to my wife and tell her to give me sex. That makes everything better and I can go to work. You should try that.”
Two hours later Hung Chow calls again, “Boss, I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon. By the ways, you got nice house.”
The passenger tapped the driver of the taxi on his shoulder to ask him a question.
Suddenly, the driver screamed, lost control of the vehicle, nearly hit a bus, went up on the sidewalk, and stopped mere inches from a store window.
For a second, everything was quiet in the cab. “Don’t ever do that again! You scared the daylights out of me!” scolded the driver.
The passenger apologized and said, “I didn’t realize that a little tap would scare you so much.”
“Sorry, it’s not your fault,” conceded the driver. “Today is my first day as a cab driver. Previously I had been driving a hearse for the past 25 years.”
So yes, I’ve got an Ello account, and I have no idea what it’s good for. Here it is: https://ello.co/f2x.
As I skimmed through the other users, it would seem that the vast majority are identifying themselves as “graphic designer”. Yeah… It feels like I’m in a room full of people drinking the most pretentious sounding beverages at Starbucks, and I’m standing there with a used styrofoam cup half full of a tepid watered down generic instant coffee.
Personally I get the impression that this site isn’t going to be a Facebook killer. Honestly I doubt it will become as popular as MySpace. People will sign up out of curiosity , post a few things, promptly forget about it, but not before they blog about how awful the experience was.
So maybe that’s what Ello is good for: Unifying the internet in proclaiming how bad it sucks.
Three elderly men at a retirement home were complaining to each other of their constipation issues.
The first one said “I wake up everyday for breakfast at seven in the morning and I can’t take a piss until ten”.
The second man replied “You think you have it bad? I can’t take a piss or a shit until the afternoon even with all the laxatives!”.
The third elderly man told the two “You think you two have it bad?! I piss and shit at eight in the morning!”.
“Well what’s so bad about that?” They asked.
“I usually wake up at nine”.
A customer asked, “In what aisle could I find the Polish sausage?”
The clerk asks, “Are you Polish?”
The guy, clearly offended, says, “Yes I am. But let me ask you something.
If I had asked for Italian sausage, would you ask me if I was Italian?
Or, if I had asked for German Bratwurst, would you ask me if I was German?
Or, if I asked for a kosher hot dog would you ask me if I was Jewish?
Or, if I had asked for a Taco, would you ask if I was Mexican?
Or, if I asked for some Irish whiskey, would you ask if I was Irish?”
The clerk says, “No, I probably wouldn’t.”
The guy says, “Because I asked for Polish sausage, why did you ask me if I’m
Polish?”
The clerk replied, “Because you’re in Home Depot.”
A woman was shopping at her local supermarket where she selected: 2 quarts of low fat milk, a carton of eggs, 2 quarts of orange juice, a head of lettuce, half a dozen tomatoes, a jar of instant coffee, and a pack of bacon.
As she was unloading her items on the conveyor belt at check out, a drunk standing behind her watched as she placed the items in front of the cashier.
While the cashier was ringing up her purchases, the drunk calmly stated, “You must be single.”
The woman was a bit startled by this proclamation, but she was intrigued by the derelict’s intuition, since she was indeed single. She looked at her six items on the belt and saw nothing particularly unusual about her selections that could have tipped off the Drunk to her marital status. Curiosity getting the better of her, she said, “Well, you know what, you’re absolutely correct. But how on earth did you know that?”
The drunk replied, “Because you’re ugly.”
I suppose I should start by telling you how it happened. It was an otherwise nondescript day back in February. I went to get out of my rocker-recliner and when I scooched forward to get up, the front armrests bottomed out on the floor as they always do. Unbeknownst to me, Alex just happened to be laying down there that fateful day, and his left arm managed to get pinched.
Of course he yowled the loudest I'd ever heard him yell in his entire life and shot off into the basement. I felt terrible about it, but then I had no way of knowing he was down there when I went to get up. After a short while, Alex came back upstairs, and I was able to check for injury.
Shockingly, there were no broken bones, no blood, and Alex was able to walk just fine. It almost seemed cartoonish at the time, but down the left side of his left arm was a ribbon of flattened fur. He seemed somewhat indifferent to this, and acted like he just wanted to put the whole thing behind him. Seeing as Alex didn't appear to be in immediate danger, I took a "wait and see" position.
Over the next month, the "ribbon" began to shrink inward towards his elbow. I took this as a good sign that his injury was healing naturally and everything would be fine... But things were not fine. After a month and a half, his elbow began to swell. By mid-April I had to take him in to the vet for an exam.
The vet did a fair bit of Hmmm'ing and scrunched her face a lot. She didn't want to poke it with anything for fear it might introduce something. She took some measurements and expressed a "wait and see" attitude. I then scheduled a follow up appointment two months out.
Only a month later in mid-May, the swelling on his elbow had increased to the point that it started to ulcer. I called the vet and got him in immediately. This time they tried to drain it, but it went horribly. After the first stick, Alex started squirting blood all over the place, and the vet and technician freaked out and were running around looking for towels while I had to hold my cat down in a growing pool of his own blood.
After they got things back under control, she tried again with a larger needle, and went in from a different direction. After plunging to the center of the mass, she remarked that it was solid and that the fluid had probably dispersed into the surrounding tissue. She then went on to suggest that it might even be "malignant" and recommended a biopsy. They gave me an estimate for the procedure that ran from $500 to $800. I immediately left and made an appointment with another vet that I had gone to in the past.
The next day, my alternate vet didn't have any good news. By now, Alex's arm was very infected. At first he suggested that the arm would have to come off, but after noting Alex's age, he pulled back and recommended palliative care. I pushed for a quote on the cost of an amputation, and he informed me it would be around $3500 at the lowest, and that at his age, Alex would only live another 6 months after the surgery, and to just stick with palliative care.
They gave Alex a shot of antibiotics, a shot for long term pain management, prednisolone tablets and a liquid antibiotic, along with an appointment to come back about a month later.
Over the memorial day weekend, I cleaned Alex's wound and administered his meds. Alex was still Alex though. He obviously wanted to live, so I began making phone calls. Eventually I got in touch with the Humane Society. It took week and a half to finally get in, but after looking at Alex's arm, their surgeon said that the arm was "not compatible with long term survival" and agreed to amputate it... in two weeks.
That was the longest two weeks of my life.
Every day that thing on his elbow grew bigger and bigger. In the final week, it started to split open. It looked like something out of a horror movie. The outer layer of skin died off and eventually I had to cut the hard chunk of dried flesh off with scissors. Fortunately the antibiotics prescribed by the second vet kept the wound site free from infection.
And through all of this, Alex was still Alex. He just kept on living his life like nothing was wrong. Even with that thing on his arm, he still walked normal, climbed up and down the stairs, jumped on the bed, table, dresser, et cetera. Part of me knew this cat was gonna make it, but part of me was scared that his arm was going to go septic and Alex would die.
I felt relieved on the day of the surgery. We made it through to this day! Alex would be a tripod, but he was going to live! I dropped Alex off at the Human Society and went to work expecting to pick him up between 4:00 pm and 5:00 pm.
My phone rang a little before noon. The voice on the other end informed me that the surgery had gone fine, and they didn't notice anything wrong during the procedure, but in the recovery room, Alex's heart rate began to drop, he went non-responsive, and his pupils dilated. The surgeon explained that sometimes a blood clot will break free during the surgery and make its way into the brain. Alex had had a stroke. There was nothing more they could do.
Moments later, Alex died.
Usually I show off pictures of Gail here, (she's doing find by the way). Gail is a fun dog who loves to constantly run and play, but Alex was the one that I could really count on for affection. He would hop up on my chest when I was resting in my recliner and purr. He would be there at the door to greet me when I came home. He would keep me company when I pooped. He would wake me in the morning, and insist I gave him a thorough petting before I went to sleep at night. He talked to me with his incessant meows, and made sure I never left the house without filling the food and water bowls. Alex loved to get his "full kitty massage" complete with belly rubs, and he was the kind of cat that would walk up and headbutt me to let me know I was his as much as he was mine.
Flush Twice has been around since May of 2003. It started out as a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes were published every weekday. Over the years, good jokes were increasingly hard to come by, and eventually they got so rare that I just stopped trying to publish them.
Since 2004 there has also been an eponymous comic. I still occasionally publish a new one on Saturdays. It’s also rare anymore, but sometimes it happens.
Here lately I’ve been posting a “Link of the Day”. For the time being, I will be featuring a new website from my enormous collection of bookmarked websites every weekday. None of it is solicited promotions, and no one is paying me to feature their site. These are just websites that at one time I thought were interesting enough to add to my bookmarks folder.
I highly encourage using some kind of ad blocking extension before clicking on any of these links. You’ll also hear me say this phrase a lot about these posts: “They can’t all be winners.” But it’s better than just leaving the site abandoned.
The jokes were generously provided by friends and visitors such as yourself. I want to express my eternal thanks to everyone over the years who helped contribute to the collection.
So what is it that makes a joke funny?
It all boils down to a sudden shift in perception. The story starts you thinking one way, then the punchline turns that thinking on its ear. The art of the joke is to craft a short story that isn’t overly contrived, then deliver a punchline that suddenly shifts your perception about the story you were being told.
Many of the jokes on this site are offensive, and I make no apologies for it. Offensive jokes work by making the reader uncomfortable through the use of a taboo subject thus enhancing the underlying humor. Without the offensive element, the joke would simply not be as funny.
