Where the Nuns Aren’t

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!”

The Golf Beginner

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!”

Sunday, March 29, 2020

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.


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



Where’s the Money?!

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.”