Lyle was hunting geese up in the Minnesota woods.
He leaned the old 16 gauge against the corner of the blind to take a leak.
As luck would have it, his foolish dog Ginger knocked the gun over, it went off, and Lyle took most of an ounce of #4 in the groin.
Several hours later, lying in a Duluth hospital bed, he came to and there was his doctor, Sven.
“Vell Lyle , I got some good news and some bad news.
Da good news is dat you are going to be OK.
Da damage vas local to your groin, dere vas very little internal damage, and I vas able to remove all of da buckshot.
“What’s the bad news?”, asks Lyle.
“The bad news is dat dere vas some pretty extensive buckshot damage done to your pecker.
I’m going to have to refer you to my sister, Lena .”
“Well, I guess that isn’t too bad,” says Lyle . “Is your sister a plastic surgeon?”
“Not exactly,” Sven says. “She’s a flute player in da Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra.
And because all you have is Obamacare, she’s going to teach you where to put your fingers, so you don’t piss in your eye.