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<UID>
9302070750
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
931017
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, October 17, 1993
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1F
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<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1993, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
CONFUSION REIGNS IN AGE OF THE INSULT
</HEADLINE>
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<BODY>
Once upon a time, kings got their laughs from court jesters. These men
could say anything, mock anything, and as long as the king was amused, the
jester lived a good life.

  Then again, if he  blew a joke, or went over the line, the jester could
have his head cut off.

  Which pretty much sums up the state of American humor. What is funny? What
is offensive? When does your head come off?  Who on Earth knows anymore?
  In New York City recently, a Friars Roast made big news when actor Ted
Danson appeared in blackface to roast his lover, Whoopi Goldberg. Even though
she wrote his jokes,  the bawdy humor and racial slurs offended guests. Some
walked out. Danson was ripped by politically correct critics.
  Meanwhile, in that same city, a few days later, 75,000 people mobbed a
bookstore  to get the autograph of Howard Stern, a guy who slurs every race on
Earth. His typically offensive book debuts at No. 1 on the best-sellers lists.
  Make sense? How about this? That same week, on "The  David Letterman Show"
a New York sports  writer tried to be glib about a 7-year-old aspiring
sportscaster named Sparky. "Screw little Sparky," the sports  writer quipped.
The crowd booed him unmercifully.  How could he pick on a child?
  Yet on another network, an animated show called "Beavis and Butthead,"
which appeals to children, had its characters say this:
  "Let's go over to Stuart's house  and light (a firecracker) in his cat's
butt."
  "Yeah. Huh-huh-huh."
  Kids found this humor so inspiring that one actually tried the firecracker
for real --  and killed his neighbor's cat.
  Funny?  Dangerous?  All of the above?
Beyond the rules 
  We live in an age where there are no rules anymore. If you are mildly
offensive, they call you a slob. If you're outrageously offensive, they  call
you  visionary. Remember the comedian Andrew Dice Clay? He managed,
incredibly, to be both in less than a year.
  Clay rose to fame with filthy, sexist humor that grew so popular, sold-out
audiences  would yell his "nursery rhymes" upon hearing the first line.
"Little Miss Muffet, sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and  whey, along came
a spider -- said "What's in the bowl, bitch?"
  Clay became,  for a brief moment, the most popular comedian in America.
Then, somehow, he went too far. He appeared on "Saturday Night Live" and a
female cast member refused to do the show in protest. This, from a  program
that mocks gay prison inmates, and once had Eddie Murphy do a reggae song
called, "Kill the White People."
  Nonetheless, Clay's career plummeted. His nursery rhymes were suddenly
bad-bad taste,  as opposed to good-bad taste. Meanwhile, good-bad taste became
Stern, who pays a stuttering reporter to ask famous people insulting
questions, such as this one to baseball legend Ted Williams: "Did you  ever
f-f-f-fart in a catcher's face?"
  Clay couldn't get on TV. 
  Stern was given his own show.
  At the now-infamous Friars Roast, Danson, who is white, joked about
bringing Whoopi Goldberg  home to his mother, who told her, "You can start
with the downstairs rooms, then do the laundry, then clean the dishes. . . ."
This, apparently, was funny. But when Danson tried a joke with the n-word,  it
was not --  even though many black comedians toss that word around as if it
were a pronoun. To further confuse people, Goldberg, who is black, said  she
thought Danson was  very funny. And she accused  Montel Williams, a black
talk show host, of walking out in order to boost ratings for his program --
which earns ratings with topics such as cross-dressing homosexuals and men who
sleep with their  baby-sitters.
  Where does one man's bad taste end and another's begin?
  That's the question, isn't it?
When barbs bring stardom 
  And in our society, it is unanswerable. This is the price for  celebrating
the insult.  No more "Why did the chicken cross the road?"  in America.
Insults are the barometer of comedy -- and, in some cases, popularity. 
  Which makes things very confusing. Rush  Limbaugh, for example, delights
conservatives with his barbs at liberals. But liberals claim he is nearly a
Nazi. Straight audiences crack up at a "Saturday Night Live"  parody of "two
men who sing like they're gay"  -- but gay audiences might call it bashing.
  If you think about it, we live in a country that makes no sense. The
Politically Correct Police are making everyone gulp before they utter  a word,
lest it be offensive to somebody. 
  Meanwhile, the hottest pop culture heroes are people like Stern and
Limbaugh, who say what they like, the hell with who's offended.
  In the end, I guess,  we haven't come so far from the days of the court
jester. What's funny is what we find funny. 
  And when it rubs us the wrong way, we say, "Off with his head!"
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