"Politically Correct"
	OK, maybe that joke wasn't quite politically correct but I've had it up to here with this PC shit. Why can not we laugh at ourselves? Why when a comedian does a joke on anything even vaguely controversial do certain people moan like somebody let one rip during an audience with the Pope? I mean, come on. Who actually moans at a joke? Who is responsible for that? Well, quite frankly, I'm pinning it on the gays, OK ? Now, I know there's some reflexively irate homosexual in the crowd thinking "How DARE you, Miss Thing" and what I'm saying to you is this: I think so little of the variations in human sexuality that I refuse to treat you like a Faberge egg; you are part of the human collective; come, join in our reindeer games, you too can be poked fun at . And you know something, that goes for the whole spectrum of special interest groups out there wandering the Freakazoid Serenghetti plain, all right? I don't want to get off on a rant here...but trying to negotiate the narrow straits of what's acceptably funny nowadays is like trying to navigate through the Sargasso Sea of plastic toad stools in the middle of a bumper pool table. I understand where political correctness comes from; a scant forty years ago we were doing Amos and Andy jokes on the airwaves, for Christ's sakes; we were barbaric louts. But now, suddenly we find ourselves in a classic overcorrection where we're all supposed to zip through life like some huge societal squadron of Blue Angels flying six inches off each other's taste wing; never, ever deviating even one angstrom. Well, folks, there are a lot of different aircraft careening through the social stratosphere and we better start working out some respectively independent glide paths right now or it's gonna start getting real messy. Why don't we start by letting humor serve as our guide? You know, laughter is one of the great beacons in life because we don't detract it by gunning it through our intellectual prism. What makes us laugh is a mystery, an involuntary response. If I could explain to you why Jerry Lewis makes me laugh when he's trying to be serious and why he makes me straight-faced when he's trying to get me to laugh, I'd have the answer; but I DON'T. But, dammit, I'm telling you the key lies somewhere in Lewis! Jerry is the Stargate on this and I'm pretty sure the comedic Rosetta Stone lies somewhere in his catching the cigarette in the mouth bit and I think Charlie Callus will back me up that. The point is people who are threatened by jokes are the same people who tend to refer to actors on soap operas by their characters name; listen there's the real world and then there's the joke world, OK? The joke world can get tough; wear a cup. You know, when I watch Dana Carvey tee up his impression of me and how I run my hand through my hair, it momentarily irks me; but only for a second because I realize its a JOKE; and I don't want to waste one more moment being angry when I can get back to my true avocation which is completely idolizing myself. You know something folks, it wouldn't hurt if everybody held their cards a little closer to their vest. Don't let them know they've rattled you if it hits close to home. You should be able to take a joke right in the solar plexus; get up! Get that two-cycle weedwacker engine of a brain humming and give as good as you got. And if you get bested, go home, sharpen your verbal machete and get right back and get ready for the next thicken. DON'T call Gloria Alred; DON'T go to court; DON'T steal a machine gun and shoot everybody at the party who made fun of your Jiffy Pop rag hat . Relax! The truth is the human sense of humor tends to be barbaric and it has been that way all along. I'm sure on the eve of the nativity when the tall Magi smacked his forehead on the crossbeam while entering the stable, Joseph took a second away from pondering who impregnated his wife and laughed his little carpenter ass off. A sense of humor is exactly that: a sense. Not a fact, not etched in stone, not an empirical math equation but just what the word intones: a sense of what you find funny. And obviously, everybody has a different sense of what's funny. If you need confirmation on that I would remind you that Saved by the Bell recently celebrated the taping of their 100th episode . Oh well, one mans Molier is another mans Screech and you know something that's the way it should be. But there are those who feel the need to enlist you in a cult whose core doctrine consists solely of their personal beliefs. Well, I subscribe to the theory of the cult of one, the cult of the individual. That way, if I lemming of the cliff I'm only following my own nose and not the ass of another lemming. That's what America is all about; a great nation that guarantees you the right to lead whatever sort of whacked-out jag-off existence you want to lead and guarantees me the right to ridicule it mercilessly. Come on; am I the only one who absolutely delights in the fact that somewhere out there near the pillars of Hercules there's a crazy old bitch like Marge Schott? There is nothing wrong with a culture where everybody has a different idea of what's humorous. The last time I can remember an entire nation being on the same page was Germany in the late 30s and it didn't really turn out that funny. Remember, in it's time and place what Hitler said was considered politically correct. And it's that blind adherence to what is situationally palatable that is truly dangerous. We should question it all; poke fun at it all; piss off on it all; rail against it all; and most importantly, for Christ's sake, laugh at it all. Because the only thing separating holy wit from complete bullshit is your perspective. Its your only weapon. Keep the safety off. Don't take yourself too seriously. And remember that at the end of the day this is just an ant farm with beepers and most importantly it takes zero politically correct assholes to screw in a lightbulb because they are perpetually in the fucking dark.
	Of course that is just my opinion... I could be wrong!