Obscene But Not Heard

From CounterPunch, screenwriter and cartoonist Ben Tripp meditates on the ambiguities and pitfalls of obscenity in the 21st cetury:

Three guys went out for a night of heavy drinking and split up around two in the morning. "How drunk were you?" was the big question a couple of days later. "I was so drunk," said the first guy, "I crashed my car through my neighbor's garage." "That's nothing," said the second guy. "I was so drunk I passed out with a cigarette and burned my house down." The third guy rolled his bloodshot eyes. "I got you both beat. I was so drunk, I blew chunks." "That's nothing special," the other guys said. "We both puked for hours." The third guy shook his head. "You don't understand. Chunks is my dog." That's cheap laughs.

So far, I haven't used any obscene language, which is germane to my point. Such expressions as 'massive, rock-hard cock' or 'blew chunks' are not inherently obscene. The first could describe a large, muscular rooster, while the other is a colloquial term for the sudden aspiration of food particles. Now if I'd said something like "I fist-fucked Grandma in the ass", there could be little room for interpretation. Obscenity, as it is generally understood, refers to that which is indecent or lewd. The term also does duty (not dooty, which could be regarded as vulgar, but not obscene) as an expression of general offensiveness, as in, "President Bush's environmental record is an obscenity." And he's a cunt, but that's beside the point. Is the joke about the three guys obscene? Yes, it is, because the entire gag revolves around the double meaning of the phrase "I blew chunks." Note that the proper name 'Chunks' could not be capitalized in its first instance, lest it give the punch line away. The joke is indeed lewd, because its effect relies upon the auditor discovering that the third guy has committed the act of fellatio upon a dog. Fellatio is an obscene act (at least if it's done properly) and so is sexual congress with any member of another species, except certain aquatic mammals.

Click here for more smart-filth.

For a while, when I first started this blog, I tried to shy away from using dirty words. I figured that I was trying to make an overall argument in favor of the world in which I want to live: I didn't want to turn off anyone who might be so offended that he or she wouldn't be able to see past the expletives and understand my reasoning. After a while, I threw caution to the wind; I just didn't feel like myself.

I like dirty words. They are specific--no other words can make certain points in quite the same way. They are fun--I still get a bit of a giggly rush sometimes about violating such a Victorian taboo. They are rebellious. They have power. They are part of my vocabulary and, therefore, part of how I think, part of who I am. In short, I decided to write for Real Art in my own language. That means I now use the occasional dirty word.

Granted, I understand that dirty words wouldn't be so interesting if everybody was cool with them. It is an irony, indeed, that lovers of earthy language absolutely depend on some people's outrage. Ah, well. Batman has the Joker; God has Satan--so many concepts seem to be defined in some ways by their opposites.

One thing's for sure: I'll do my damndest to minimize in the future Real Art's use of the phrase "I fist-fucked Grandma in the ass." I think once every ten years or so is just about enough for my taste...

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