Nothing is more offensive than what makes other people laugh.
And nothing has been more instructive about our vaunted free speech than the weaseling response of our hired intelligentsia. Of course it’s offensive. Of course it’s crude. That’s the motherfucking point, you motherfucking pope fucking gay boy fucking cunt licking pussy licking taint licking fucktards.
It’s supposed to make men go chungk in their beer. And hit each other over the head with their mugs. Like the time they all got together to fuck each other’s brothers. (See what I did there? I didn’t say sisters. I am so advanced.) What’s different about the Seth Rogan film that I haven’t seen and have no plans on seeing? Or the porn sites being shut down by our evangelical friends who’ve got nothing better to do with their right hands? What else was Borat? But then ask Salman Rushdie. His account of living under the siege of fundamentalists is instructive for as much as it tells us about the author’s unconscious shutting down as his police guard is shagging his secretary.