Last night I watched a comedian stumble through his 20 minute routine, insulting a goodly number of the audience and bar staff personally, and probably well over half less specifically, with a torrent of profanity (it was clear that his favorite word was cunt, with fuck probably a close second, usually used as an adjective, as in “You fucking cunt”), but a large section of the audience were howling with laughter (I suspect they were mostly his friends, which would imply that in real life he is not quite the belligerent, sexist, racist lout he seemed to be impersonating.
Anyway, that’s not my point. Insult comedy is not a new thing, and certainly you don’t expect comics to refrain from bad language. Otherwise no Billy Connelly. No Gilbert Gottfried.
My point is, he’d occasionally take a break from being a complete asshole to just tell a set joke. Some of them were pretty funny.
Two windmills were talking and one said to the other one and said “What kind of music do you like and the other one said “Well, I’m a big heavy metal fan.”
A boy looked out his back window and saw his dad in the back yard, hunched over the lawn mower handle and sobbing uncontrollably. “Mom! Mom! What’s wrong with Dad?” “Oh, don’t worry, Son. He’s just going through a rough patch.”
Today, I was on the bus and the windmill poem came back to me and I started laughing, which I suppose can be a disconcerting thing to anybody sitting nearby. Without any context, without seeing any current source for the amusement, people could easily confuse amusement for some type of mental aberration.
I guess what I’m saying is that you remember the good stuff and forget about the bad, but I sure could have lived without the bad.