Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside with only a pet dog for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, ‘Father, my dog is dead. Could ya’ be saying’ a Mass for the poor creature?’
Father Patrick replied, ‘I’m afraid not; we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some Baptists down the lane, and there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for the creature.’
Muldoon said, ‘I’ll go right away Father. Do ya think $5,000 is enough to donate to them for their service?’
Father Patrick exclaimed, ‘Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn’t ya tell me the dog was Catholic?
Oh, it’s not quite that bad. It does give one a seriously bad case of butterflies to know that very soon their entire life is going to be turned inside out and upside down!
*edit:I never really liked how this panel turned out… Tyler looks like he’s made of paper… I still don’t know what happened there.
An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years. Upon her return, her Father cussed her. ‘Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old Mother thru?’
The girl, crying, replied, ‘Sniff, sniff…Dad…I became a prostitute…’
‘Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this Catholic family.’
‘OK, Dad– as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a $5 million savings certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex. And for ye Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club… (takes a breath) …and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera and…’
‘Now what was it ye said ye had become?’ says Dad.
Girl, crying again, ‘Sniff, sniff… a prostitute Daddy! Sniff, sniff.’
‘Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a Protestant. Come here and give yer old Dad a hug.’
40-ish = 49
Adventurous = Slept with everyone
Athletic = No tits
Average looking = Ugly
Beautiful = Pathological liar
Contagious Smile = Does a lot of pills
Emotionally secure = On medication
Feminist = Fat
Free spirit = Junkie
Friendship first = Former very *friendly* person
Fun = Annoying
New Age = Body hair in the wrong places
Open-minded = Desperate
Outgoing = Loud and Embarrassing
Passionate = Sloppy drunk
Professional = Bitch
Voluptuous = Very Fat
Large frame = Hugely Fat
Wants Soul mate = Stalker
WOMEN’S ENGLISH:
1. Yes = No
2. No = Yes
3. Maybe = No
4. We need = I want
5. I am sorry = you’ll be sorry
6. We need to talk = you’re in trouble
7. Sure, go ahead = you better not
8. Do what you want = you will pay for this later
9. I am not upset = Of course I am upset, you moron!
10. You’re very attentive tonight = is sex all you ever think about?
MEN’S ENGLISH
1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy
3. I am tired = I am tired
4. Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
5. I love you = Let’s have sex now
6. I am bored = Do you want to have sex?
7. May I have this dance? = I’d like to have sex with you
8. Can I call you sometime? = I’d like to have sex with you
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = I’d like to have sex with you
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = I’d like to have sex with you
11. Those shoes don’t go with that outfit = I’m gay
And finally…..
A recent scientific study found that women find different male faces attractive depending on where they are in their menstrual cycle. For example, when a woman is ovulating she will prefer a man with rugged, masculine features. However when she is menstruating, she prefers a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors stuck in his eye and a cricket stump shoved up his backside.
Many times civilians don’t get it. If a military member tells you they are being deployed, it means they are about to be sent to the battlefields of whatever country we are currently fighting with. It can be a pretty emotionally intense period in their life, so try to be a little understanding.
A man was lying in bed with his new girlfriend. After having great sex, she spent the next hour gently scratching and massaging his balls She was so meticulous about it and it was obvious that this was something she loved to do.
The man was thoroughly enjoying it but he was curious about her fascination. He turned and asked her, “Why do you love doing that so much?”
Q: Where can men over the age of 60 find younger, sexy women who are interested in them?
A: Try a bookstore under fiction.
Q: What can a man do while his wife is going through menopause?
A: Keep busy. If you’re handy with tools, you can finish the basement. When you’re done you’ll have a place to live.
Q: Someone has told me that menopause is mentioned in the bible. Is that true? Where can it be found?
A: Yes. Matthew 14:92: “And Mary rode Joseph’s ass all the way to Egypt .”
Q: How can you increase the heart rate of your 60-plus year old husband?
A: Tell him you’re pregnant.
Q: How can you avoid that terrible curse of the elderly wrinkles?
A: Take off your glasses.
Q: Seriously! What can I do for these Crow’s feet and all those wrinkles on my face?
A: Go braless. It will usually pull them out.
Q: Why should 60-plus year old people use valet parking?
A: Valets don’t forget where they park your car.
Q: Is it common for 60-plus year olds to have problems with short term memory storage?
A: Storing memory is not a problem, Retrieving it is the problem.
Q: As people age, do they sleep More soundly?
A: Yes, but usually in the afternoon.
Q: Where should 60-plus year olds look for eye glasses?
A: On their foreheads.
Q: What is the most common remark made by 60-plus year olds when they enter antique stores?
A: “Gosh, I remember these!”
I know that the military has monitored some of the things I’ve posted on the internet, but sadly, no one watches this website. After posting some images of me an my cohorts in uniform, one of my sites kept getting hits from a certain military base known for intelligence gathering. On the other hand, they never bothered to visit this site. You know, I’ve put a lot of work into these panels. Are they really that bad?
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.
