A guy in a wheelchair entered a restaurant one afternoon and asked
the waitress for a cup of coffee. The guy looked across the
restaurant and asked, “Is that Jesus sitting over there?” The waitress
nodded “yes,” so the guy requested that she give Jesus a cup of
coffee on him.
The next patron to come in was a man with a hunched back. He
shuffled over to a booth, painfully sat down, and asked the waitress for a
cup of hot tea. He also glanced across the restaurant and asked, “Is that
Jesus over there?” The waitress nodded, so the man asked her to give
Jesus a cup of hot tea, “My treat.”
The third patron to come into the restaurant was a guy on crutches. He
hobbled over to a booth, sat down and hollered, “Hey there, honey! How’s
about gettin’ me a cold glass of Miller Light!” He, too, looked across the
restaurant and asked, “Is that God’s boy over there?” The waitress once more
nodded, so the man directed her to give Jesus a cold glass of beer. “On
my bill,” he said.
As Jesus got up to leave, he passed by the man in a wheelchair, and touched him and said,
“For your kindness, you are healed.” The man felt the strength come
back into his legs, got up, and danced a jig out the door.
Jesus also passed by the man and, touched him and said, “For your
kindness, you are healed.” The man felt his back straightening up,
and he raised his hands, praised the Lord and did a series of back flips out
the door.
Then Jesus walked towards the 3rd man on crutches, The man quickly jumped up, and yelled,
“Don’t touch me! I’m collecting disability!
There were three guys- a sex addict a weed addict and a alcoholic. They went to hell for their sin and were standing in front of the devil.
The devil made a deal with them saying I will lock you in a room for a 1000 years with your temptations and if you get over your sins I will send you back to the land of the living, Earth.
So the sex addict got locked in a room full of attractive women, the alcohol addict got locked in a room stocked with all kinds of alcohol, the weed addict locked in a room full of weed.
A 1000 years later the Devil goes to the sex addict he comes out saying “My dick hurts, and I’m never having sex again”; poof – back to earth.
The alcoholic’s room is opened and he say “My head feels awful and I’m never having any alcohol again”; poof -back to Earth.
Then the Devil opens the weed addict’s room and the Weed addict punches the Devil in the face and says “you forgot my lighter bitch!”
A man buys a talking centipede for $5000, and takes it home in a small box.
After 30 minutes, he opens the box and says “Would you like to go for a pint?”.
Silence; the centipede doesn’t answer. Raising his voice, the man repeats his question, but still no reply.
Becoming agitated, and starting to think he has been conned, he leans forward and loudly shouts the question into the box.
The centipede sticks his head out of the box and angrily shouts back at the man; “I heard you the first time you impatient bastard, I’m putting on my fucking shoes.”
he asked his friend: “how do you get women to like you so much?”
barney replied: “i have a trick, every time i meet them i squeeze them on the butt, it has some kind of pavlovian effect or something but it always works”
the man then went home, him and his wife haven’t had sex for a couple of months now so he thought he should try this trick.
his wife was in the kitchen, he approached her from behind and squeezed her ass
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.
Kudos
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.
These three women were roommates. One night they all had all gone out on dates and they all came home at about the same time.
The first one said, “You know you’ve been on a good date when you come home with your hair all messed up.”
The second one said, “No, you know you’ve been on a good date when you come home with your makeup all smeared.”
The third one said nothing, but reached under her skirt, removed her panties and threw them against the wall, where they stuck. “Now THAT’S a good date!”
He was met at the Pearly Gates by Saint Peter who led him down the streets of gold. They passed mansion after mansion until they came to the very end of the street. Saint Peter stopped the rich man in front of a little shack. “This belongs to you,” said Saint Peter.
“Why do I get this ugly thing when there are so many mansions I could live in?” the man demanded.
“We did the best we could with the money you sent us!” Saint Peter replied.
Friday night, Patrick went to his friend Paddy and said
“Paddy, I need a favor – I’m sleeping with the bartender’s wife. Can you hold him in the pub for an hour after he closes up?”
Paddy was not very fond of the idea, but being Patrick was a lifelong friend, he reluctantly agreed.
After the pub closed, Paddy struck up a conversation with the bartender asking him all sorts of stupid questions in an effort to keep him occupied. After some time, the bartender became suspicious and asked, “Paddy, what are you really up to with all this?”
Paddy, filled with feelings of guilt and remorse, confessed to the bartender and said, “I’m sorry…. my friend Patrick is sleeping with your wife right now and asked me to keep you occupied.”
The bartender smiled and putting a brotherly hand on Paddy`s shoulder, said *”I think you’d better hurry home, my wife died two years ago.”
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.
