One week an older guy drove up and said he wanted a fill-up. Then he got out of the car with an umbrella, opened it, and followed me around as I worked, holding the umbrella over my head to keep the sun off me. I awkwardly thanked him as he paid his tab and drove away.
A week later, he came back for a fill up. Again, he got out of the car with the umbrella and opened it, but this time he just stood there watching me work. I asked, “So you’re not gonna use that to keep the sun off me this time?” and he retorted, “Watch it, young man. Fuel me once, shade on you. Fuel me twice, shade on me!”
For the past 3 days I’ve been sick as a dog. I did that “at home” test they send you in the mail, and it was negative, so I guess I don’t have to quarantine. I just stepped out of the shower, so for the moment I’m experiencing some relief from the congestion.
If you noticed the picture up above, that’s my new car. It’s a 2022 Kia Niro EV, and it’s been jinxed. Since I got it, it’s already been in a wreck and had a flat tire. Hopefully I’ll be getting the car repaired in a week or two. It needs a new lift gate and the rear bumper needs repainted. I don’t know what the deal was with the tire. It just started going flat, but that was an easy fix.
After I bought this new car, I sold my Leaf. The dealership I bought my Kia from tried to lowball me on the trade, so I took it to the Kelley Blue Book website. Believe it or not, I sold it for over $1000 more than I originally paid for it. The dealer then tacked on another five grand to sell it on their lot. I’ve been watching my old Leaf on the Autotrader site. It’s a nice car, and I really hope it sells soon. (* Just checked. and it’s gone already!)
So yeah, this Niro is a fully electric vehicle (BEV). It’s amazing how many times I’ve had to explain to people that you cannot put gasoline in it. It has an advertised range of 239 miles on a full charge, and more or less, that’s what it gets. I’ve been limiting my charge to 80% and it easily gets around 200 miles of range. I charge it about twice a week.
One of my favorite aspects of this car is when you turn on the lane keep, lane follow, and adaptive cruise control while going down the highway. It’s not quite self-driving, but it’s pretty damn close. When traveling along a well marked road, I only have to occasionally bump the back of my steering wheel with my knee to keep the system active, and most of the time I can just relax and enjoy the ride. You actually can install Comma.ai with Openpilot on this car to get an even more robust self-driving effect.
Kudos
So it’s the strangest thing… Someone or something keeps posting stuff that’s not jokes to the submission page. They are surreal word salads that don’t make any sense. I’m just guessing it’s some sort of bot and added a challenge question to the submission page to try to block them. There is, however, one actual joke for this week. Thank you, TOR.
A reporter is doing a piece on how Uk farmers release sexual frustration .
He starts in Scotland. He goes to the first farm and asks the farmer. “How do you release your sexual frustration?”
The farmer replies “I fuck one of my sheep. Their pussy is very like a woman’s.”
Reporter :- “And do you have a special technique?”
Farmer :- “Sure! I lead them to the dyke, put the back legs in mee wellies and the front legs over the dyke then take it from behind.”
The reporter thanks the farmer and moves on to Wales
Again he asks the farmer “How do you release your sexual frustration?”
The farmer replies “I fuck one of my sheep.”
The reporter asks what his technique is and the farmer replies. “I lead them to the fence, I put the back legs in mah wellies and the front legs over the fence then take I fuck it from behind.”
Again The reporter thanks the farmer and moves on to England.
The same first question is asked and the farmer also replies that he fucks his sheep
The reporter asks what his technique is and is told. “I lead them to the field’s gate, put the back legs in my wellingtons and the front legs over the gate , I can then take it from behind.”
Again The reporter thanks the farmer and moves on to Ireland and the conversation goes like this
Reporter:- “How do you release your sexual frustration?”
Farmer:- “To be sure, I fuck one of my sheep I do.”
Reporter:- “And what is your favourite technique?”
Farmer:- “Well I gets the sheep and ah pit it’s back legs in ma bitts an’ the front legs owner ma shudders then I fuck it.
Reporter: “Wow! That’s really interesting, farmers in Scotland, Wales and England all say they put the front legs over a wall, fence or gate.”
For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.
Although I am still in great shape since playing football 24 yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
Called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Vanessa, who identified herself as a 26 year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.
My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Vanessa waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!! Vanessa gave me a tour and showed me the machines. She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. Very inspiring, Vanessa was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. I enjoyed watching the skilful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out of the door. Vanessa made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Vanessa’s rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It’s a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY:
The only way that I can brush my teeth is by laying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both breasts. Driving was OK as long as I didn’t try to steer or stop. Vanessa was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Vanessa put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Vanessa told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.
THURSDAY:
Vanessa was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn’t help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes. Vanessa took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men’s room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine.
FRIDAY:
I hate that bitch Vanessa more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anaemic little cheerleader. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Vanessa wanted me to work on my triceps – I don’t have any triceps! And if you don’t want dents in the floor, don’t hand me the Barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn’t it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
SATURDAY:
Vanessa left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my fist. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Shopping Channel.
SUNDAY:
I’m having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my wife (the bitch), will choose a gift for me that is fun — like a root canal or a vasectomy.
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.
