The Golden Soapbox
Gail’s Pic of the Week
I Have No Idea What Comes Next
After 2020, things couldn't possibly get any worse, could they? Well, they could, and it is prudent to brace yourself for the possibility that the apocalypse was just getting warmed up.
On the other hand, perhaps the worst is behind us, or at least we will have a reprieve while the Kraken naps for a few more years.
One thing I pretty much know isn't about to happen:
We ain't gonna go back to the way things were.
There are a number of jokes still left in the queue from the anonymous donor who used our submission page. Thanks again, whoever you are.
“You know how sometimes you tell yourself that you have a choice, but really you don't have a choice? Just because there are alternatives doesn't mean they apply to you.” ― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave
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What is Flush Twice?
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.”