A man always wanted to go skydiving and was finally able to gather the courage. He went to the airport and inquired about what is involved in the jump.
The manager explained the procedure to him: “We are expert chute packers and have never had a failure. We will take you up in the plane and tell you when to jump out. You’ll pull the main chute ripcord. It always works, but if it doesn’t, you’ll pull the auxiliary chute ripcord. You’ll float softly to the ground, and we will meet you in that truck over there.”
The man decided to go for it. The plane took off and circled the airfield.
He jumped out and the main chute failed. He pulled the second ripcord and that failed.
As the man looked down towards the fast approaching ground, he muttered, “I bet that damned truck isn’t there either.”
Once upon a time a guy named Fred decided that he was rough and tough enough to seek his fortune in the Wild West. (This was in the days when the Wild West meant Texas and Arizona, with indians, outlaws, tornadoes and droughts, not the current situation, where the Wild West means California and you have to brave hot tubs, mellowspeak, fires and earthquakes. That is, it was a simpler time.)
So Fred found his way to a frontier town and became the bartender at the wildest saloon in the territory. He soon proved how rough and tough he was, and the owner of the bar was pleased with how he broke up fights and didn’t skim too much off the receipts. He told Fred that he was doing a fine job, but he should remember one thing: “If you ever hear even a rumor that Mad Martin is coming to town, just save what you can, put a bottle of Red Eye on the counter, and head out of town as fast as you can.”
Fred was pretty perplexed at this and sought explanation. He was told that Mad Martin was an old mountain man who lived up in the hills and only came to town once or twice a year. However, Martin was the most dangerous guy they’d ever heard of and few had ever encountered him and lived to tell the tale. Fred listened carefully and then promptly forgot all about it.
Until one day a few months later, a cowboy came riding through town at full speed, yelling, “Martin’s coming! Head for the hills!” The result was incredible. Everybody in town immediately jumped on their horses and took off for the hills. Except Fred. He wanted to see this guy because he didn’t believe he could be all that tough. So, Fred just put the bottle of Red Eye on the bar, hid behind the counter, and waited.
He didn’t wait long. Soon there was a noise in the street. As Fred looked out a hole in the wall, he saw this huge, mean-looking guy ride down the center of the street on the biggest bull buffalo that Fred had ever seen. The guy stopped the buffalo in front of the bar, jumped off the beast, punched it in the head (dropping the critter to its knees) and bellowed, “Wait here til I get back!” The fellow turned and walked up the steps. Fred saw that the guy had a pair of huge mountain lions on leashes. He tied them both to a post and kicked them soundly, hollering, “You pussycats stay here til I’m done!” The cats fearfully sat down.
Into the bar stormed the fellow, ripping the doors off the wall as he passed. With two strides he approached the bar, picked up the bottle of Red Eye, bit off the neck, and downed it all in one gulp. Poor Fred, thoroughly frightened by now, let out a little whimper. The guy looked down over the bar and roared, “What the hell do you think you’re looking at?!”
Fred managed to say, “N-n-n-nothing, mister. Do you want another bottle of Red Eye?”
To which the fellow replied, “Hell no! I don’t have time! I gotta get out of here. Mad Martin’s coming!”
No story this weekend. I’m still pretty busy with work at the moment, and that’s a good thing.
So you see, I have two vehicles: An SUV and a sedan. BOTH are currently in the shop at this very moment, and the repair bill is likely to be over one thousand dollars.
This is kind of a bummer too, because I thought I had a pretty good system. The sedan is a $3000 beater that bought back in 2009. I use it to drive back and forth to work. The SUV was purchased in 2012 for $4100. It’s used for trips down the highway to visit my dad, and it’s also my “go to” for when I plan on having passengers. Both vehicles were bought used and have nearly 400,000 miles between the two of them.
The idea was that while one was in the shop, I would still have the other to reliably get around… but wouldn’t you know it. The very night I took my SUV in to replace a wheel bearing, the sedan suddenly developed a serious issue with breaking and engine idle on the way to work. Now I’m driving my mom’s car. She died back 2014, but dad kept it for just such an occasion.
So that’s my week… How’s your week going?
Kudos and Promos
Did you like the jokes? Well, you can thank George and Glenn for that. Didn’t like the jokes? Well, you can go ### # ### ## #####, because George and Glen are totally awesome for helping me out.
Once again, Flush Twice t-shirts are available at no cost to you! This e-mail link is the perfect way to request yours today: Yes, I want a FREE T-Shirt!(Limit one T-Shirt per household, and I reserve the right to refuse your request if I suspect bad faith.)
A frustrated father told his colleague, “When I was a youngster, I would be sent to my room whenever I misbehaved, but my son’s room has a color TV with a game console, a computer, not to mention his cell phone! It hardly serves as punishment.”
“Well the first thing I do with my kid, is take away his cell phone,” said the colleague.
“And then what do you do after that?” asked the frustrated father.
The colleague replied, “Then I send him to my room!”
A hunter was rushed into the emergency room with a bear trap clamped onto his testicles. As the doctor was examining him, he asked, “So how did this happen?”
The hunter explained that he was out in the woods and felt the call of nature. When he squatted down, a bear trap hidden under leaves was triggered and snapped shut on his testicles.
“Oh,” exclaimed the doctor, “The pain must have been excruciating!”
“It was,” said the hunter. “The second worst pain in my life.”
“Second worst?” said the doctor. “What could have been worse than that?”
“Coming to the end of the chain,” said the hunter.
A man was walking along a beach when he came across a lamp partially buried in the sand. He picked up the lamp and gave it a rub.
Two blonde genies appeared, and they told him he has been granted three wishes.
The guy made his three wishes and the blonde genies disappeared.
In the very next moment, the guy found himself in a bedroom in a mansion, surrounded by 50 beautiful women.
He made love to all of them and began to explore the house. He felt something soft under his feet, looked down and saw the floor covered in $100 bills.
Just then there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, there were two people dressed in Ku Klux Klan outfits. They dragged him outside to the nearest tree, threw a rope over a limb and hanged him by the neck until he was dead.
As the Klansmen walked away, they removed their hoods to reveal that they were the two blonde genies.
One blonde genie said to the other, “I can understand the first wish of having all those beautiful women in a big mansion to make love to, I can also understand him wanting to be a millionaire, but for the life of me I have no idea why he wanted to be hung like a black man.”
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.
