A man driving through the countryside accidentally went off the road and into a ditch. With his vehicle thoroughly stuck, the driver pleaded for help from a farmer passing by in his horse and buggy.
The farmer said his horse, Benny, could easily pull the car out. So he backed Benny up and hitched the horse to the bumper of the car.
He yelled, “Pull, Nellie, pull! ” but Benny didn’t move.
Raising his voice he yelled, “Come on, pull Ranger!” Still, Benny didn’t move.
Then he loudly shouted, “Now pull, Fred, pull hard!.” Benny just stood.
It was then the farmer nonchalantly said, “Okay, Benny, pull.”
And Benny pulled the car out of the ditch.
The man was very appreciative but curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times.
The farmer explained, “Oh, Benny is blind, and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn’t even try.”
It’s going to be a while before Gail grows out of her “cute” stage, and I’d rather not limit the “Sunday Rant” to a singular topic. While I suppose featuring a weekly picture of her would be harmless, I would like to move on to other topics.
The trouble is, I can’t really think of anything I want to talk about this week. I know what’s on my mind, but I know better than to open my mouth on certain subjects… And no, it’s not because I fear the PC police… OK, well maybe a little, but actually it is because when you make certain personal views public, that’s when people pigeon hole you and say, “that’s all this guy is about”.
Ooo! Ooo! I know what I’d like to talk about: How come every other webcomic out there is mentioned on either Wikipedia or TV Tropes or some other quasi-authoritative medium, but PitP is totally off the radar? How is it that even bad webcomics with only 16 pages created by a 14 year old 7 years ago has third party acknowledgement, but a webcomic that has been active for nearly 16 years is still only vaguely known to exist by a handful of search engines, and then only after you type in some arcane phrase?
On second thought, I’d better not talk about this. I can already feel the pigeon hole closing in, and if anyone ever did review this site and/or comic, whatever they wrote would probably just annoy me.
I should just count obscurity as one of my blessings.
Kudos
And speaking of obscure blessings, I want to thank ole George and Glenn for continuing to email me jokes. You know, a lot of these jokes are just FWD’s that have been handed down from e-mail to e-mail over the years. You can help give these wandering jokes a new home here by copy/pasting the joke on our submission page. You could also forward your FWD’s to flush2x@gmail.com.
“The dog is the most faithful of animals and would be much esteemed were it not so common. Our Lord God has made His greatest gifts the commonest.”
― Martin Luther
A lawyer went duck hunting in a rural farming town.
He shot down a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over it, the elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing.
The lawyer responded, “I shot a duck, and it fell into this field. Now I’m going to retrieve it.”
The old farmer replied, “This is my property, and you are not coming over here.”
The indignant lawyer said, “I am one of the best trial attorneys in the country. and if you don’t let me get that duck, I’ll sue you and take everything you own.”
The old farmer smiled and said, “Apparently, you don’t know how we settle disputes in these parts. We settle small disagreements with the ‘Three Kick Rule.'”
The lawyer asked, “What is the ‘Three Kick Rule’?”
The Farmer replied, “Well, because the dispute occurred on my land, I get to go first. I kick you three times, and then you kick me three times and so on, back and forth until someone gives up.”
The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom.
The old farmer climbed down from the tractor, walked up to the lawyer, and planted his steel-toed work boot into the other man’s groin, causing the attorney to drop to his knees! His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer down on all fours, and the farmer’s third kick to the rear end sent the lawyer headfirst into a fresh cow pie!
The lawyer summoned every bit of his strength and managed to get to his feet. Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, “Okay, you old fart. Now it’s my turn.”
The old farmer smiled and said, “You know what? Take the damn duck.”
A Navy officer was walking through the crew’s quarters of an air craft carrier when he chanced upon a sailor reading a magazine with his feet up on the table.
“Sailor!” the officer boomed. “Do you put your feet up on the furniture at home?”
“No sir,” replied the sailor, “but we don’t land airplanes on the roof either!”
Billy listened as Grandpa lamented about the good ole days, and how the cost of living was so much lower.
“When I was about your age, my mother would send me to the store. I would get a pound of hamburger, a quart of milk, 2 oranges, a loaf of bread, and a magazine for only a dollar!”
Then Grandpa conceded, “Sadly, you can’t do that any more. They got those blasted security cameras everywhere.”
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.
