ALL COMEDY IS CONSERVATIVE:

Here are two jokes one can no longer tell on American television. But you can still find them in the archives, out on the edge of town, in Sub-Basement Level 12 of the ever-expanding Smithsonian Mausoleum of the Unsayable. First, Bob Hope, touring the world in the year or so after the passage of the 1975 Consenting Adult Sex Bill:

"I've just flown in from California, where they've made homosexuality legal. I thought I'd get out before they make it compulsory."

For Hope, this was an oddly profound gag, discerning even at the dawn of the Age of Tolerance that there was something inherently coercive about the enterprise. Soon it would be insufficient merely to be "tolerant" -- warily accepting, blithely indifferent, mildly amused, tepidly supportive, according to taste. The forces of "tolerance" would become intolerant of anything less than full-blown celebratory approval.

Second joke from the archives: Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra kept this one in the act for a quarter-century. On stage, Dino used to have a bit of business where he'd refill his tumbler and ask Frank, "How do you make a fruit cordial?" And Sinatra would respond, "I dunno. How do you make a fruit cordial?" And Dean would say, "Be nice to him." [...]

Look, I'm an effete foreigner who likes show tunes. My Broadway book was on a list of "Twelve Books Every Gay Man Should Read." Andrew Sullivan said my beard was hot. Leonard Bernstein stuck his tongue in my mouth (long story). But I'm not interested in living in a world where we have to tiptoe around on ever thinner eggshells. If it's a choice between having celebrity chefs who admit to having used the N-word in 1977 (or 1965, or 1948, or whenever the hell it was) and reality-show duck-hunters who quote Corinthians and Alec Baldwin bawling out some worthless paparazzo who's doorstepping his family with a "homophobic" slur, or having all of them banished from public life and thousands upon millions more too cowed and craven to speak lest the same fate befall them, I'll take the former any day.

Because the latter culture would be too boring for any self-respecting individual to want to live in, even more bloody boring than the current TV landscape where, aside from occasional eruptions of unerotic twerking by sexless skanks, every other show seems to involve snippy little Pajama Boys sitting around snarking at each other in the antiseptic eunuch pose that now passes for "ironic." It's "irony" as the last circle of Dante's cultural drain; it's why every show advertised as "edgy" and "transgressive" offers the same pitiful combination of attitude and impotence as a spayed cat humping.  

Such a pansified culture is going nowhere.

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