Laughter is the best medicine...

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BABAR

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Whoever said "Laughter is the best medicine" never had gonorrhea.
At the wake following the funeral of the family patriarch, the widow was greeting the guests with her children beside her.

some of the guests were a bit on the tacky side, and asked the widow what the cause of death had been.

“Gonorrhea,” she replied calmly.

after imparting this information to numerous guests, her oldest son pulled her aside and said, “Mom, how can you say that? You know that Dad died of dysentery, not gonorrhea!”

“Son,” she replied, “I want them to think your Dad went out like a sport instead of the crappy excuse for a husband and father he really was.”
 

Onebadhawk

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A male patient is lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an
oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.
A young student nurse appears and gives him a partial sponge bath.
"Nurse,"' he mumbles from behind the mask, "are my testicles black?”
Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, "I don't know, Sir.
I'm only here to wash your upper body and feet.”
He struggles to ask again, "Nurse, please check for me.
Are my testicles black?”
Concerned that he might elevate his blood pressure and
heart rate from worrying about his testicles, she overcomes
her embarrassment and pulls back the covers.
She raises his gown, holds his manhood in one hand and
his testicles gently in the other.
She looks very closely and says, "There's nothing wrong with
them, Sir. They look magnificent.”
The man slowly pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her, and says
very slowly, "Thank you very much, that was wonderful.
Now listen very, very closely: "Are - My - Test - Results - Back?"
 

Onebadhawk

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Lol, yeah,,
I haven't even heard the name Zappa in more years then I'd like to try to count up..

1627397409214.png


Teddy
 

hball55

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Frank Zappa is certainly an acquired taste. When I was in the Navy, my General Quarters station was in CIC (Command Information Center commonly called Combat). I was on a closed circuit with one other person and he would recite Frank Zappa lyrics from when Flo & Eddie were with the band. They were the weirdest of Zappa lyrics like, Billy was a mountain, Ethel was a tree growing off of his shoulder, or Ask any vegetable you happen to see. It was entertaining and completely weird.
 

Onebadhawk

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ohhhhh,
Don't you eat that yellow snow....

Teddy
 

John Kemker

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Billy (really slow and deep): "Ethel, wanna get a cup of coffee?"
Ethel: "Howard Johnson's! Howard Johnson's!"
Billy: "There's a Howard Johnson's. Wanna eat some clams?"
 

hball55

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Billy (really slow and deep): "Ethel, wanna get a cup of coffee?"
Ethel: "Howard Johnson's! Howard Johnson's!"
Billy: "There's a Howard Johnson's. Wanna eat some clams?"
yeah, apparently Billy received residuals from all the pictures (postcards) that were taken of him, so he took Ethel on a vacation.
 
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Onebadhawk

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I really like a thread like this..
There's nothing more important then laughing a bit especially when you're busy and stressed..
Not many posts here..
You guys are forcing me to take drastic action..

You asked for it..

The electric fence and the lawnmower..
We have a 6 ft. Square tube and welded wire fence in the front yard, and last Saturday, when I heard some thieving Punks might be bringing their BS out to the country, I wanted to make sure they ran into a little resistance before meeting my Kimber 9mm, so I got an electric fence and ran a single wire along the top of the fence.
Actually, I got the biggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had, made for 12.5 miles of fence. I then used an 8 ft. long ground rod, welded a 1/2 masonry bit to a piece of round rod, and sunk the ground rod 7.5 feet into the limestone..The ground rod is the key, with the more you have in the ground, the better the fence works.
On Wednesday my idiot neighbors hired another idiot to trim all their oak trees, yes in June, so now they will all probably die of oak wilt but that’s a whole other story, and one of the limbs came crashing down on top of my fence leaving the main wire down in the yard. So yesterday I'm mowing the yard with my 5 hp Briggs and Stratton push mower. I knew for a fact that I unplugged the charger so I pushed the mower around the wire and reached down to grab it, to throw it out of the way.
Well my sweet little wife had seen that the fence was unplugged and thought one of the dogs had accidentally done it, so she plugged it back in “for me”....How very thoughtful of her.
Now I'm standing there, I've got the running lawnmower in my right hand and the 1.21 giga-volt fence wire in the other hand. Keep in mind the charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a picture of an upside down cow on fire on the cover.
Time.......stood........still..........
The first thing I notice is my pecker trying to climb up the front side of my body. My ears curled downwards and I could feel the lawnmower ignition firing in the backside of my brain. Every time that Briggs & Stratton rolled over, I could feel the spark in my head. I was literally at one with the engine.
It seems as though the fence charger and damn lawnmower were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.
Science says you cannot poop, pee, and vomit at the same time. I beg to differ. Not only did I do all three at once, but my bowels emptied 3 different times in less than half of a second. It was a Matrix kind of bowel movement, where time is creeping along and you're all leaned back and BAM BAM BAM you just **** your pants 3 times. It seemed like there were minutes in between but in reality it was so close together it was like exhaust pulses from a HEMI turning 8 grand.
At this point I'm about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding onto the fence wire. My hand is wrapped around the wire palm down so I can't let go. I grew up on ranches so I know all about electric fences ... but Grandpa always had those piece of **** chargers made by International or whoever that were like 9 volts and just kinda tickled.
This one I could not let go of. The 8 foot long ground rod is now accepting signals from me through the solid limestone rock. At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to just man up and take it, until the lawnmower runs out of gas.
'Damn!,' I think, as I remember I just filled the tank!
Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough. It has settled into a loping run pattern as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam in it. Covered in poop, pee, and with my vomit on my chest I think 'Oh God please die .... Pleeeeaze die'. But nooooo, it settles into the rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore roller cam engine waiting for the go command from it’s driver’s right foot.
So here I am in the middle of June , 104 degrees, 80% humidity, standing in my own front yard , begging God to kill me. God did not take me that day .... he left me there covered in my own fluids to writhe in the misery my own stupidity had created.
I honestly don't know how I got loose from the wire ....
I woke up laying on the ground hours later. The lawnmower was beside me, out of gas. It was later on in the day and I was sunburned.
There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and then another long skinny dead spot where the wire had laid while I was on the ground still holding on to it. I assume I finally had a seizure and in the resulting thrashing had somehow let go of the wire.
Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep I realized a few things:
1 - Three of my teeth seem to have melted.
2 - I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek (not the left, just the right).
3 - Poop, pee, and vomit when all mixed together, do not smell as bad as you might think.
4 - My left eye will not open.
5 - My right eye will not close.
6 - The lawnmower runs like a sumbitch now. Seriously! I think our little session cleared out some carbon fouling or something, because it was better than new after that.
7 - My nuts are still average size yet they are almost a foot long.
8 - I can turn on the TV in the bedroom by farting while thinking of the number 4 (still don't understand this???).
Yesterday changed my life.
I now have a newfound respect for things.
I appreciate the little things more, and now I will always triple check to make sure the fence is unplugged before I mow.
The good news, is that if someone does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualize what my security system will do to him, and THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which will also remind me to triple check before I mow
 

jd2cylman

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As a farm kid, I’ve lived part of that, just sans mower. The part about not being able to let go is VERY real…
 

TSMILLER

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This is long, but I laugh every time I read it. I am looking in a mirror and could have written it myself if I were much of a writer.
Mrs being quit the shopaholic and dragging me into all kinds of stores.

"Walk a mile in my Underpants"

Wherever there is hardship in this world, there is someone else who’s trying to help. Be it oppression or adversity. Cruelty or injustice. It seems that everyone has an advocate.
But, sadly, there’s one group whose anguish has gone overlooked for far too long:
Guys.
You can actually pinpoint the cause of our pain to one fateful day.
October 8, 1956.
To most of us, it seemed a day like any other.
But on that day, a man named Victor Gruen, opened the first indoor shopping mall in Edina, Minnesota.
The mall was called Southdale.
And guys everywhere have been tortured by the invention ever since.
Lest you blow this off as a joke, pay attention next time you’re in the mall.
Take heed of our distress.
Note the pained expressions.
We look forlorn.
Despondent.
Sometimes, we even look as if we’re giving serious thought to jumping.
“Would it really be worse than Ann Taylor Loft?”
You see us draped over faux gold railings. Tracing an index finger over the bars.
Remembering what life was like on the outside.
Meanwhile, strains of Christmas carols pipe ubiquitous from the ceiling. “The most wonderful time of the year my ass.”
As we pass in the hallways, shackled with Nordstrom bags, we exchange a somber, knowing glance. It’s the same look neutered dogs give each other when they cross on the street.
“I feel your pain. Now let’s never speak of this again.”
In the mall, we men revert to dissociation. It’s a self-preservation technique where the mind blocks itself off to prevent trauma. You’ll often see it in cases of extreme psychological distress. Guys who have been through wars. Guys who have been through natural catastrophes. Guys who have been through Victoria’s Secret.
The expression is universal. It’s more vacant than a Paris Hilton bookshelf. And it crosses every imaginable social barrier. Black or white. Young or old. Yankees or Red Sox.
Worst of all, our suffering is senseless. We men are dragged to the mall against our will by wives, girlfriends, and girls we’re trying to sleep with.
But why?
Why do you make us come along?
There must be a good reason to torture us so.
You might say that, “some guys like to shop.”
Granted.
But “some guys also like to pierce their genitalia.” Chances are, you’re not with one of those guys.
More often, you shlep us to the mall under the guise that you want our opinion. That you value our keen eye for women’s fashion.
To this I say, “do you really?”
We wear golf shirts embroidered with obscure corporate insignias.
Usually, the shirts have been in business longer than the companies.
We wear our 1996 Gap Relaxed Fit jeans without thought of a belt. The pants stay up fine without one. So what’s the point.
On our right foot, there’s a navy blue Jockey crew sock. On our left, a black Hanes. It’s inside out. But we don’t care. Why should we? You can’t see the seam unless you take off our white New Balance tennis shoes.
So, ladies, do you really want to know whether we prefer the Boot Cut or the Flare?
Keep in mind that many of us own flannel.
And yet, despite our appalling sartorial sensibilities, you insist that we join you at the mall. Sometimes, you even play the “we never spend any quality time together” card.
So, reluctantly, we follow you into Arden B.
And so the suffering continues.
Once inside the women’s clothing store, our only solace is the Man Chair.
This is generally shoved in a corner by the dressing rooms. Leaving us eye-level with a rack full of Granny Panties.
Awkward? Perhaps. But it’s far better than the alternative.
See, these days Man Chairs are few and far between. They’re an endangered species. A dinosaur from more considerate times.
So, while you ladies duck into the dressing room for a small eternity, we’re left to fend for ourselves in the wild.
This is a major dilemma. Because let me tell you. A man is never more naked than when he’s alone in a women’s clothing store.
Guys, you know exactly what I mean.
At first, you stand. Hands in pockets. Rocking back and forth on your heels. You contemplate a coffee stain on your shirt. You check your watch. It’s a collector’s edition Ravens watch. You frown and try to take solace in the reflected testosterone.
But it’s no use. You’re surrounded by pink things. They’re embroidered with silk and estrogen and described with adjectives like “pretty” and “soft.”
Manhood receding, you glance around the store. Most of the women are alone.
You silently curse their husbands who are fortunate enough to be at home, at the bar, or dead.
As your eye leaps from face to face, an attractive blonde girl inevitably catches your gaze.
You smile sheepishly.
She does not smile back.
It’s then that you realize that you’re the creepy guy who’s in The Limited by himself.
Lurking by the dressing room.
Ogling.
Your smile vanishes as you offer an expression that is at once innocent and apologetic.
It’s a look that you only hope telegraphs “No! It’s okay! I don’t own a website!”
You pull your hands from your pockets (which, of course, makes it look even worse) and avert your eyes to the nearest clothing rack. With desperation, you start touching things.
As you lumber around the racks you try your best to feign interest. You feel a pair of sweatpants, purse your lips and nod. You hope that this look passes as normal. The expression of someone who appreciates fabric.
“These are nice sweatpants,” you announce to the woman across the table.
She stares for a moment, then walks away.
You shrug and continue touching the sweatpants.
They say “JUICY” across the ass.
You realize this isn’t making you look any less of a pervert.
Your mind races. Desperate to think of a way to not look awkward. You’ve never been more unsure of what to do with your hands.
Then you have an idea. You approach the free-standing display shelves.
“Could I sit there?”
You give the clothes a nudge and slowly lower your backside to the display.
After testing the surface with a tentative butt-cheek, you decide it’s not sturdy enough. You stand up and wonder if anyone noticed.
Someone did.
The hot blonde girl shakes her head and frowns, wondering why you felt compelled to touch your ass to the ladies’ undergarments.
You quickly straighten the stack of lace panties, making a conscious effort not to finger the glittery lettering that spells “Vixen.”
And so it goes for guys in malls. A constant dance of awkwardness, boredom and emasculation.
Sadly, as long as there are malls, the senseless suffering will continue.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
Ladies, consider this a plea on behalf of all men.
Next time you go shopping, let us stay home.
Let us sit on the couch, watch sports and scratch ourselves.
Let us eat pizza and drink beer.
Let us fart.
Please.
Give us our dignity.
 

Onebadhawk

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Ha,,
I just got home from the mall with my wife..
That was a goodie Tom..

Teddy
 

teepot

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The volts are connected to a good ground. I sometimes pour water on mine because it is so dry here. I've got a hot wire on a photo cell that runs along the top of our fence. It comes on at night. I have warning signs too. Once I was in the hospital when I got a phone call from the alarm company. My wife was visiting me. The cops showed up and told us they wouldn't go on the property because of the wire. No country boys I guess. So my wife drives from Vegas to home. It takes about an hour. She opened the gate and unlocked a door. The cops were great they cleared the house for her. Made sure all was well and left. Just the threat of a small shock kept the good guys at bay. Imagine what it does to the bad guys. If I find anyone in my yard at night I know they are not there by accident. Oh and by the way, if you accidently touch the fence when it's on it hurts. But since it pulses you can let go.
 

Pat Gordzelik

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Whoever said "Laughter is the best medicine" never had gonorrhea.
Good one John🤣



-----

Donald Trump, Queen Elizabeth, and Vladimir Putin all die and go to Hell. While there, they spy a red phone and ask what ’s the phone is for. The Devil tells them it is for calling back to Earth
Putin asks to call Russia and talks for 5 minutes. When he is finished, the Devil informs him that the cost is a million dollars, so Putin writes him a check.

Next, Queen Elizabeth calls England and talks for 30 minutes. When she is finished, the Devil informs her that the cost is 6 million dollars, so she writes him a check.
Finally, Trump gets his turn and talks for 4 hours. When finished, the Devil informs him that the cost is $5.00.
When Putin hears this, he goes ballistic and asks the Devil why Trump got to call the USA so cheaply ….
The Devil smiles and replies, "Since Biden took over, the country’s gone to hell, so it's a local call.”
 

Tech 68

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Frank Zappa is certainly an acquired taste. When I was in the Navy, my General Quarters station was in CIC (Command Information Center commonly called Combat). I was on a closed circuit with one other person and he would recite Frank Zappa lyrics from when Flo & Eddie were with the band. They were the weirdest of Zappa lyrics like, Billy was a mountain, Ethel was a tree growing off of his shoulder, or Ask any vegetable you happen to see. It was entertaining and completely weird.
I grew up in the same "neck o' the woods (desert actually)" as Zappa and Don Van Vliet.
Pieces like "Village of the Sun" are significant.
 

hball55

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I grew up in the same "neck o' the woods (desert actually)" as Zappa and Don Van Vliet.
Pieces like "Village of the Sun" are significant.
How ‘bout Captain Beefheart, he’s truly strange. Aside from Apostrophe, Bongo Fury is my favorite Zappa album.
 

PatD

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I really like a thread like this..
There's nothing more important then laughing a bit especially when you're busy and stressed..
Not many posts here..
You guys are forcing me to take drastic action..

You asked for it..
OMG!!! I haven't laughed this hard in decades! Love it!. Sorry it happened to you, but that is freeking hilarious. 🤣 Had a friend that pissed on a high power fence once, I know mythbusters busted this one but apparently he had a solid stream and made connection. He certainly remembered it.
 

Onebadhawk

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OMG!!! I haven't laughed this hard in decades! Love it!. Sorry it happened to you, but that is freeking hilarious. 🤣 Had a friend that pissed on a high power fence once, I know mythbusters busted this one but apparently he had a solid stream and made connection. He certainly remembered it.
Ha,,
Me too Pat..
I almost peed my pants the first time I read that.. lol..

Teddy
 

Bat-mite

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Last time I got a prostate exam, and the doctor had his finger up there almost to my chin, he said, "Just so you know ... it's perfectly normal to get an erection during this procedure."

I said, "What are you talking about? I don't have an erection."

And he said, "No, I mean me."
 

Pat Gordzelik

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It could have been me
I was sitting at a long stoplight yesterday, minding my own business, patiently, waiting for it to turn green even though there was no on-coming traffic.

A carload of scruffy-bearded, young men shouting Anti-American slogans with a half-burned American Flag duct-taped on the trunk of their car and a "Remember George Floyd" slogan spray painted on the side stopped next to me. Suddenly, they yelled, "Defund the policel,
then throwing at me an empty bottle
of MD2020 breaking my wind shield,
and took off before the light changed. Out of nowhere an 18-wheeler came speeding through the intersection and ran, directly, over their car, crushing it, completely,and killing everyone in it. For several minutes I sat in my car thinking to myself, "Man... that coulda been me!"
So today, bright and early, I went out and got a job as a truck driver.
 
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