A group of nuns were attending a baseball game. Four men were sitting directly behind them.
Because the nun’s habits were partially blocking the view, the men decided to badger the nuns hoping that they’d get annoyed enough to move to another area.
In a very loud voice, the first guy said, “I think we should move to Utah. I hear there are only 100 nuns living there.”
Then the second guy spoke up and said, “Oh not there! We should go to Missouri! There are only 75 nuns living in that state!”
The third guy said, “I think we should go to Texas! There are only 50 nuns living in that whole state!”
The fourth guy said, “No, no, no! The place to go is Maine! There are only 25 nuns living there!”
The mother superior turned and stared the men down while using a very sweet and unnervingly calm voice. “Why don’t you all go to hell? There won’t be any nuns there!”
A retiree was given a set of golf clubs by his co-workers. Thinking he’d try the game, he asked the local pro for lessons, explaining that he knew nothing whatsoever about the game.
The pro showed him the stance and swing, then said, “Just hit the ball toward the flag on the first green.”
The novice teed up and smacked the ball straight onto the green, where it stopped inches from the hole. “Now what?” the fellow asked the speechless pro.
“Well, you’re supposed to hit the ball into the cup,” the pro sheepishly said.
“Oh great!” exclaimed the beginner. “NOW you tell me!”
So what’s left to talk about? How about them workers.
So in real life, I’m a blue collar worker. My employer makes a variety of products deemed essential, so I do not get to take the lovely “stay-cation” that the rest of the online world seems to be enjoying at this present point in time.
It is true that I have my own desk and computer at work, but I make my living repetitively lifting heavy shit that fucks up my back. I also have to play nice with the office dwellers who have no fucking clue about how great a toll manual labor takes on a person’s health and well being.
The problem is complicated. If an individual has a problem, it is assumed that the individual is the problem. You have to have several issues across multiple people without any outliers. If just one person can handle it, then that’s all the evidence they need to claim that it is the person, not the job that is the problem. It is not until enough people have fallen by the wayside (and possibly a legal issue or two) that white collar workers (upper management) suddenly find religion.
You would think that management addressing working conditions would be a relief to the blue collar worker, but it is not. It usually makes things worse. The solutions usually requires more steps and procedures that ultimately end up being more difficult. For bonus points, they sometimes add in required documentation that must be signed and turned in on a regular basis that is worded in such a way as to imply that everything is fine. They make it so workers have to sign this paperwork if they want to keep their jobs. The documentation will later be used against any worker who manifests a problem because everything was obviously not fine when they signed it.
Ultimately the worker comes to an uncomfortable realization. They need the money this job affords, but over time, this job can cause physical harm. If harm is caused, making it known can lead to the worker being dismissed from their position which would result in a financially devastating loss of pay. They keep quiet about any problems and mask them for as long as possible. They try to find little cheats and tricks to mitigate the harm they are faced with. They also hold onto the hope that someday something better will come along before the harm done is irreversible.
In some cases that “something better” is a retirement twenty years from now, and sometimes it is finally qualifying for permanent disability. Far too often nothing better comes along, and the worker is left broken and abandoned.
As mentioned before, my employer managed to get themselves deemed “essential” so they could stay open. If our shop had been closed down like everything else, we would all be getting our no-hassle unemployment checks from the state right now.
To meet with compliance, management is making us spray everything down with a disinfectant spray throughout the day. The whole factory reeks of this shit, and it irritates our lungs, but nobody dares to cough.
If the management even thinks you are sick, they will send you out on unpaid “sick leave”, and won’t let you come back without a doctor’s note… As if anybody could even get in to see a doctor right now. The waiting list for my primary care doctor is over two weeks!
So hang in their kids. I don’t wish this shit on anyone but when the “Boomer Remover” starts to infect those who have actively worked against my best interests, I really can’t say I feel too bad about that.
Kudos
Due to the corona virus, George and Glenn are DEAD! No more jokes evar!
Just kidding. George and Glenn are fine. They send me the jokes, I pick out the best ones, clean and disinfect them, and publish them for your enjoyment. Of course anyone can send me jokes via our submission page or by sending them to flush2x@gmail.com.
“It’s very interesting, the joke comes first and then the wording comes within five seconds, maybe ten seconds. My thing is to get the joke across in as few words as possible. However, sometimes a word that’s not really needed does help the rhythm of it. It’s a gut feeling.” ― Steven Wright
After spending a weekend in Las Vegas, a man came home with a cool $100,000 in cash winnings. Not wanting anyone to know about it, he dug a hole in the back yard and hid the money in it.
The next morning he walked outside and found someone had dug it up and taken the money. He noticed the footprints from the hole led to the house next door where his deaf-mute neighbor lived.
Down the street lived a professor who understood sign language. Knowing this, the enraged man grabbed his pistol, dragged the professor to the deaf man’s house and held the deaf man at gunpoint
The man growled at the professor, “Tell this guy that if he doesn’t tell me where my money is, I’ll kill him!”
The professor conveyed the message, and the deaf-mute replied in sign language: “I hid it in my backyard, underneath the cherry tree.”
The professor turned to the man with the gun and said, “He said he will never tell you. He would rather die first.”
A young secretary had just returned from her vacation and was telling her boss about the fun time she had. She then asked him for two weeks leave so that she could get married.
“But you just had two weeks off,” her boss protested. “Why didn’t you get married then?”
An employer didn’t want to hire a particular applicant, so he decided to give him a nonsense test, hoping the man wouldn’t be able to answer the questions. The employer figured that when the man couldn’t figure out any sensible answer, he would just give up without an argument.
So the employer gave the man his first question: “Without using numbers or letters or hash marks, write down a way to represent the number 9.”
The applicant said, “That’s easy” and proceeds to draw three trees.
The employer responded, “What the hell is that?”
The man said, “Tree ‘n tree ‘n tree makes nine.”
“Fair enough,” said the employer. “Your second problem is to use the same rules, but represent the number 99.”
The man stared into space for a while, then made a smudge on each tree. “There you go sir,” he said confidently.
The employer scratched his head and said, “How on earth is that supposed to represent 99?”
The job seeker explained, “Each tree is dirty now! So it’s dirty tree, ‘n dirty tree, ‘n dirty tree. That’s 99!”
The employer was getting worried that he’d have to hire the guy, so he said, “All right, question three. Same rules again, but represent the Number 100.”
The man stared into space again, then shouted, “Got it!” He made little marks at the base of each tree, and said, “There you go sir, 100.”
The employer looked at page and said, “You must be mad if you think that represents a hundred!”
The man leaned forward and pointed to the marks at the tree bases, and said, “A little dog came along and pooed by each tree, so now you’ve got dirty tree an’ a turd, dirty tree an’ a turd, dirty tree an’ a turd, which makes one hundred. Now when do I start the job?”
I just got the call from H.R. today. Because of the new epidemic edict in Ohio, the company that I work for is officially closed until further notice.
Lovely.
Now that I’m stuck at home for however long “they” decide, I might as well take the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. Afterwards, I might try to fix the storm door my dog destroyed. Of course at no time will I be working to make improvements to this website since I will never have enough time for that.
The good news is, we’re allowed out of the house to go to the store, walk the dog, and scare the shit out of old people with a couple of coughs. I know one woman who is spraying the inside of her house with ― now get this ― rubbing alcohol… and she’s the only person in her house! She’s terrified the virus going to jump on her if she goes outside. The paranoia is surreal. The whole thing is surreal. Salvador Dali is surreal, but the shit going on right now makes his work seem less unnerving and illogical than the world around me at this time.
The governor of Ohio has given us the order to stay in our homes until April 6th. I’m an introvert, so that part should be fairly easy for me. The hard part is getting my unemployment pay since the website isn’t working properly. Managing my finances during this time is going to really suck.
Update 3/23/2020
It looks like my time off has been cut short. Somehow my job has been declared essential, and I go back to work tomorrow. This is a great relief for me since it is impossible to actually file for unemployment at this time (the website is broken), and there are no physical offices open for this purpose anymore. My employer’s payroll system is a far faster and more reliable way to make a buck!
H.R. actually emailed me some papers they said I should keep on me when traveling to and from work. Are you shitting me? They’re pulling a “Papers, Please” in the good ol’ US of A? That’s beyond fucked up! Of course I opened the pdf file and it was just a copy of Ohio’s “Stay at home order” with certain lines highlighted. I might as well carry a piece of paper that says, “I can do what I want.” But then that already sums up my philosophy on life anyway.
Stay strong, wash your hands, and social distance not because they told you to, but because everybody sucks. Be safe out there.
Kudos
Neither Glenn nor George are currently affected by CoVid 19. On the other hand, the jokes they’ve been sending me should probably be quarantined. Nevertheless, I’m presenting them here. If you would like to donate a joke, head over to our submission page or send it by email to flush2x@gmail.com. All jokes are tax deductible, and make great substitutes for toilet paper.
“There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know I am mad.” ― Salvador Dali
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.
