So he seems like a nice guy, and you decided to go on a date with him, but if he utters any of the following phrases, run for the nearest exit and don’t look back!
“I really don’t like this restaurant, but I wanted to use this 2-for-1 coupon before it expired.”
“I refuse to get [cable/internet/cell phone]. That’s how they keep tabs on you.”
“I used to come here all the time with my ex.”
“I really feel that I’ve grown in the past few years. Used to be I wouldn’t have given someone like you a second look.”
“It’s been tough, but I’ve come to accept that most people I date just won’t be as smart as I am.”
A man and his son were taking their donkey to be sold at the market.
As they walked along by its side a man passed them and said, “You fools, what is a donkey for but to ride upon?”
So the man put his son on the donkey and they went on their way.
Soon they passed a group of men, and one of them said, “See that lazy youngster, he lets his father walk while he rides.”
So the man told his son to get off, and got on himself.
They hadn’t gone far when they passed two women, one of whom said to the other, “Shame on that lazy lout to let his poor little son trudge along.”
Not knowing what else to do, he pulled his boy up with him on the Donkey.
By this time they had come to the town, and the passers-by began to jeer and point at them. The townsfolk said, “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for overloading that poor donkey?”
The man and his son tried to think of what to do. At last they cut down a pole, tied the donkey’s feet to it, and carried the donkey through the town. They walked amidst the laughter of all who saw them until they came to a bridge. As they crossed the donkey managed to kick free, and in the struggle fell over the bridge and drowned.
“Let that be a lesson to you!” said an old man who had followed them, “If you try to please everyone, you may as well kiss your ass good-bye.”
Old Bubba was fishing along the Bayou for catfish one day when he spotted a water moccasin slithering across the water with a toad in its mouth.
Being a longtime fisherman, he knew the best bait for large catfish was toads. In a flash, Bubba grabbed the snake from behind and carefully removed the toad from its mouth and put the toad in his side bag.
Fearing the angry snake would bite him; Bubba took out his bottle of moonshine and carefully placed two drops into the snake’s mouth. The snake’s eyes glazed over and quickly went limp. Bubba let the snake loose in the water and went back to fishing.
A few hours later, Bubba was about to head back home, when he felt something tapping on his leg. He looked down to see what it was, and there was the water moccasin with two frogs in its mouth.
A man approached the receptionist desk at the urology clinic.
A somewhat large and imposing nurse asked for his name and date of birth, then in a very loud voice she said, “I have you scheduled here to see the doctor about your erectile dysfunction. Is that correct?”
The heads of all the patients in the waiting room snapped to look at the very embarrassed man.
In an equally loud voice the man replied, “No, I’ve come to inquire about a sex change operation, but I don’t want the doctor that did yours!”
A group of Catholic women were bragging about their sons over coffee.
The first one started, “My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him ‘Father’.”
The second women chimed in with, “My son is a Bishop. Whenever he walks into a room, people say, ‘Your Grace’.”
The third woman smugly announced, “Not to put you down, but my son is a Cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, people say, ‘Your Eminence’.”
The fourth woman sipped her coffee in silence while the first three women stared at her expectantly. After a moment, she carefully set down her cup and mentioned, “My son is a hard-bodied male stripper. When he walks into a room, people say, ‘My God’.”
Dissatisfied with online dating, an older woman visited a local matchmaker.
To get some idea of what the woman was looking for, the matchmaker asked, “So what requirements do you have for a potential mate?”
The woman thought about it for a moment and said, “Needs to be good looking, polite, humorous, sporty, knowledgeable, good at singing and dancing. Willing to keep me company for the whole day at home. Tells me interesting stories when I need conversation and be silent when I want to rest.”
“I see,” remarked the matchmaker. “You need a television.”
Henry awoke the day after an office party with a splitting headache and a horrible case of cotton-mouth
Completely unable to recall the events of the night before, he made his way downstairs where his wife was making breakfast.
“What happened last night, Olivia?” moaned Henry. “Was it as bad as I think it was?”
“Worse,” scorned his wife. “You made a complete ass of yourself. You antagonized the entire board of directors, and insulted the CEO right to his face.”
“He’s an asshole anyway!” Henry snorted. “Piss on him!”
“You did,” Olivia explained, “and then he fired you.”
“Oh bloody hell!” Henry scoffed. “Fuck that guy!”
“I did,” Olivia replied. “You start back to work on Monday.”
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.
