I think you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who thinks that I’m a prude. Even writing the phrase “hard pressed” makes me giggle at all the dirty jokes that could turn into.
I have had jobs where knowing when and how to drop the “f bomb” was considered a core competency. After five years writing the game “You Don’t Know Jack” I could no longer hear a word like liquor or finger without saying to myself, “But I hardly know her.” (It was the 90s version of “that’s what she said.”).
I am not bothered by a lot of things. The fact that “vagina” has become the most popular word on television does not bother me. The vagina is a body part, I would rather hear vagina then the god-awful va-jay-jay of a few years back (no offense Shonda Rhimes).
But I’m not a big fan of the new Ben & Jerry’s flavor “Schweddy Balls,” based on an old, so-so SNL skit starring Alec Baldwin. I say this even though I would willingly lick it off of Alec Baldwin’s chest, and not just the young hot Alec Baldwin of yesteryear. I love him so much I’d go for it today, with a tape recording of his infamous phone call to his daughter in the background.
First, I feel sorry for the writers. Seriously, they thought they were writing a parody of boring NPR shows, of all things bland. Instead their big joke has wound up as a flavor of ice cream, a flavor of VANILLA ice cream. How depressing is that? They thought they were transgressive and edgy and it only takes a few years before they themselves are vanilla.
If Tragedy + Time = Comedy then does Comedy + Time = Eh?
As I said, I’m not a prude. I’m not a fan of banning or barring. I think the FCC is a joke and I’d much rather see Janet Jackson’s nipple than the violence that regularly gets “G” ratings. But still, it would be nice if we were left some boundaries to cross.