A farmer got in his pickup and drove several miles to a neighboring farm and knocked on the farmhouse door.
A young boy, about twelve-years-old, opened the door.
“Is your Pa home?” the farmer asked.
“No sir, he ain’t,” the boy replied. “He went to town with Ma.”
“How about your brother, Joe, is he here?”
“He went with Ma and Pa.”
The farmer stood there shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” the boy inquired politely. “I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one. Or maybe I could take a message for Pa.”
“Well,” said the farmer uncomfortably. “I really wanted to talk to your Pa. It’s about your brother Joe getting my daughter pregnant.”
The boy considered for a moment and said, “You would have to talk to Pa about that”, he finally conceded. “But if it helps you any, I know that pa charges $50 for the bull, and $25 for the boar hog. But I really don’t know how much he gets for Joe.”
It was after dinner when Jerry realized he was out of cigarettes. He decided to pop down to the local bar for a pack, telling his wife he’d be right back.
When Jerry got to the bar, the bartender offered him a cold beer on the house, so Jerry decided he had time for just one. He’d been nursing it along when a gorgeous blond came in the door, but he looked the other way. She went right over to him and sat down. One thing led to another and she invited him back to her apartment.
Back at her place they went at it like crazy, as their passions took over. The next thing Jerry knew it was four o’clock in the morning. Jumping out of bed, he shook the girl awake and asked if she had any baby powder.
“Yeah, in the bathroom cabinet,” she said still half asleep. He dusted his hands, drove home at ninety miles per hour, and pulled into the driveway to find his wife waiting up for him with a rolling pin in her hand.
“So WHERE have you been?” she screamed.
“Well, you see honey,” Jerry stammered, “I only went out for cigarettes, but Morty offered me a beer and then this beautiful blonde walked in and we got to talking and drinking and she invited me back to her place…”
“Wait a minute,” snapped his wife. “Let me see your hands,” as she eyed the whiteness of his fingertips. Turning on him furiously, she said, “Don”t you EVER try lying to me again, you rotten little bastard! You’ve been bowling again!”
A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was a very good-looking woman and determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching. One day she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.
Two cowboys applied for the job. One was suspected to be gay and the other a notorious drunk. She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.
He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing very well. Then one day, the rancher’s widow said to the hired hand, “You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and kick up your heels.”
The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night. One o’clock came, however, and he didn’t return. Two o’clock and no hired hand. Finally he returned a round two-thirty, and upon entering the room, he found the rancher’s widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him. She quietly called him over to her.
“Unbutton my blouse and take it off,” she said.
Trembling, he did as she directed.
“Now take off my boots.”
He did as she asked, ever so slowly.
“Now take off my socks.”
He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.
“Now take off my skirt.”
He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.
“Now take off my bra.”
Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.
Then she looked at him and said, “If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired.”
An old farmer had three pretty teenage daughters of whom he was very protective. He used to sit on the front porch, shotgun in hand, and run his eye over any potential suitors.
One night, all three girls were due to go out on dates.
The first’s boyfriend drove up and announced, “Hi, my name is Joe, I’m here to get Flo, we’re going to the show, is she ready to go?”
The old man decided that the boy sounded OK and he gave his blessing for the date.
Ten minutes later, another car pulled up. The driver called out, “Hi, my name is Freddy, I’m here to get Betty, we’re going for spaghetti, is she ready?”
The old man thought the boy was decent enough, so he gave him permission for the date.
Ten minutes later, a third car arrived. The driver called out, “Hi, my name is Chuck…”
A blind man enters a bar and find his way to a bar stool. After ordering a drink, and sitting there for a while, the blind guy yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?”
The bar immediately becomes absolutely quiet. In a husky, deep voice, the woman next to him says, “Before you tell that joke, you should know something. The bartender is blonde, the bouncer is blonde and I’m a 6′ tall, 200 pound blonde with a black belt in karate. What’s more, the fella sitting next to me is blonde and he’s a weightlifter. The woman to your right is a blonde, and she’s a pro wrestler. Think about it seriously, mister. You still wanna tell that blonde joke?”
The blind guy says, “Nah, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”
A mother and young girl were traveling down the highway in the family minivan behind a delivery truck that just happened to be carrying a shipment of assorted adult novelty items. Suddenly a dildo fell off the truck in front of them and hit the windshield of the minivan.
The surprised little girl asked, “What was that, Mommy?”
The mother, not wanting to have to explain about things like sex toys, answered, “It was just a bug, honey.”
The little girl thought for a second and said, “Well, it sure had a big dick.”
A young man finds the perfect girl from his small village for marriage.
When the young man asks for his father’s blessing, the father tells the young man “Son, I cannot bless your marriage. I did a lot of fooling around in my youth, and the girl you want to marry is in fact your half-sister.”
The young man devastated but still wanting to get married suggests the next door neighbor’s daughter.
The father tells him with an apologetic tone that she is also his half-sister.
The young man storms out with tears in his eyes and finds his mother outside in the garden. She asks him what’s wrong and he tells her the story.
In a motherly soft voice she tells him, “Son, go ahead and marry any girl you want, that man is not your father.”
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.
