The Golden Soapbox
Gail’s Pic of the Week
It Hurt Itself in Its Confusion
As the pandemic continues to spread throughout the ranks of the willfully ignorant, my smile is only diminished by the fact that the vast majority will survive. In any event, a certain demographic has lost its members in record numbers, and nearly everyone else is noticeably unsympathetic with that loss.
Currently about 250 people a day are dying from the 'rona in the US. There for a while it got up to almost 4,000 in a single day. All told, nearly 1 in 5,000 Americans have died from the Wuhan flu, which makes me wonder, how are we going to kill the other 4,999?
Obviously you can't kill them with the vaccine. If you count every person who died after taking any of the covid vaccines, and just assume it was the vaccine that did it, the kill ratio is only 1 out of every 56,000 people. And that's about how many people would have been expected to die if there were neither a China Flu nor a vaccine. It looks like if we want to kill more people, we are going to need a lot more stupidity since science has failed us once again.
I just want to acknowledge that Big D threw in a joke that will appear next week. This week's jokes were all stolen from reddit. To keep me honest, you could try using the submission page a little more regularly, but in any event there are going to be jokes here by hook or by crook.
Also, I can't say for certain if there is going to be a comic this coming weekend. I'm going to try, but work might get a little hectic.
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Flush Twice is a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes are published every Monday through Friday (midnight EST). There is also a comic and a personal blog in the sidebar that updates on the weekends. We’ve been operating since May of 2003.
Jokes are generously provided by friends and visitors such as yourself. If you would like to contribute, please check out our submission page, or e-mail email@example.com. If you know anyone who constantly e-mails you jokes, forward them to us! We’ll take what we can get!
So what 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 we 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.
(Just thought you might like to know.)
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Marty stood over his tee shot for what seemed an eternity. He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn’t start his backswing.
Finally his exasperated partner asked, “What the hell is taking so long?”
“My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse,” Marty explained, “and I want to hit the perfect shot.”
“You can forget about that!” his companion exclaimed. “There’s no way in hell of hitting her from here.”
Valerie and Linda were chatting over coffee, when Linda remarked, “All I want out of life is the four animals that my Mom always said I would need.”
Puzzled, Valerie asked, “Really and what four animals would that be?”
Linda took a sip from her coffee and said, “A mink on my back, a jaguar in the garage, a tiger in the bed, and a jackass to pay for all of it.”
Three cowboys were sitting in a bar discussing Southern women.
“I think Southern women are the prettiest,” one of them said.
“I think Southern women are the toughest,” said another.
The third said, “I think they’re the most polite of all women. That’s why they don’t like group sex.”
His friends looked at him, confused. “They don’t like group sex?”
“Nope, too many thank-you notes to write.”
The local vicar is having a bath, and he’s a little bored, so he decides to, ‘pleasure’ himself. He’s quite happily tugging away, reaches the old moment of bliss, and opens his eyes only to see, at the window, the window cleaner, jaw agape at what he’s just seen.
A couple of minutes later, the doorbell rings – it’s the window cleaner..
The vicar is understandably embarrassed, and asks the man how much he owes him.
“50 quid” comes the reply.
“50 quid?!?” says the vicar, startled.
“Yep, fifty quid or I tell the whole parish about what I saw, you perv.”
So the vicar hands over the cash, and the cleaner gets on his way. The following week, the bishop’s round for his supper and is having a wander round the vicar’s house, admiring his lovely home.
He says to the vicar, “Lovely clean windows you’ve got there vicar, who does them for you?”
“Oh, a guy from the village does them for me, he does a great job,” replies the vicar.
“Oh, yeah. How much does he charge you, then?”
“Well,” replies the vicar, “fifty quid, actually”
“Fifty quid? Blimey!” says the bishop. “He must have seen you coming.”