Slay.me

One day, Pete complained to his friend, “My elbow really hurts. I guess I should see a doctor.” His friend said, “Don’t do that. There’s a computer at the drug store that can diagnose anything quicker and cheaper than a doctor. Simply put in a sample of your urine, and the computer will diagnose your problem and tell you what you can do about it. It only costs $10.00.

Pete figured he had nothing to lose, so he filled a jar with a urine sample and went to the drug store. Finding the computer, he poured in the sample and deposited the $10.00.

The computer started making some noise and various lights started flashing. After a brief pause, out popped a small slip of paper which read:

You have tennis elbow. Soak your arm in warm water, avoid heavy labor. It will be better in two weeks.

That evening while thinking how amazing this new technology was and how it would change medical science forever, he began to wonder if this could be fooled. He decided to give it a try. He mixed together some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, and urine samples from his wife and daughter. To top it off, he masturbated into the concoction.
He went back to the drug store, located the computer, poured in the sample and deposited the $10.00.

The machine again made the usual noises, flashed lights, and printed out the following analysis:

Your tap water is too hard.
Get a water softener.

Your dog has ringworm.
Bathe him with anti-fungal shampoo.

Your daughter is using cocaine.
Put her in a rehabilitation clinic.

Your wife is pregnant . . . twin girls.
They aren’t yours.
Get a lawyer.

And if you don’t stop jerking off, your elbow will never get better.

A very prestigious cardiologist died, and was given a very elaborate funeral by the hospital he worked for most of his life… A huge heart… covered in flowers stood behind the casket during the service as all the doctors from the hospital sat in awe.

Following the eulogy, the heart opened, and the casket rolled inside.The heart t hen closed, sealing the doctor in the beautiful heart forever.

At that point, one of the mourners just -burst- into laughter. When all eyes stared at him, he said, ‘I am so sorry, I was just thinking of my own funeral… I’m a gynecologist.

The proctologist fainted.

In the hospital the relatives gathered in the waiting room, where their family member lay gravely ill.

Finally, the doctor came in looking tired and sombre.

‘I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news,’ he said as he surveyed the worried faces.

‘The only hope left for your loved one at this time is a brain transplant. It’s an experimental procedure, very risky but it is the only hope. Insurance will cover the procedure, but you will have to pay for the brain yourselves.’

The family members sat silent as they absorbed the news.

After a great length of time, someone asked, ‘Well, how much does a brain cost?’

The doctor quickly responded, ‘$5,000 for a male brain, and $200 for a female brain.’

The moment turned awkward. Men in the room tried not to smile, avoiding eye contact with the women, but some actually smirked.

A man unable to control his curiosity, blurted out the question everyone wanted to ask, ‘Why is the male brain so much more?’

The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and explained to the entire group, ‘It’s just standard pricing procedure. We have to mark down the price of the female brains, because they’ve actually been used.’