Jada Pinkett-Smith vs. Chris Rock: If They're "Just Jokes", Then You'll Let Jada Clap Back with No Retaliation

 

Liam Lynch vs. G-Rated Rabbit Humor

 

It's Only Offensive When I Do It

It’s only offensive when I have a crush

I’m the only one with a reverse Midas touch

It’s only offensive when I crack a joke

It’s only funny when my dreams go up in smoke

It’s only offensive when I seek out friends

Rejection and turmoil never seem to end

It’s only offensive when I write my lines

I’m the only one worthy of a hundred dollar fine

Nothing about my lonely life is ordinary

The blood on my hands is not sanitary

I don’t look like you, I don’t talk like you

I’m the only one with a shit-load to prove

It’s only offensive when I take a stand

My painful screams echo across the land

It doesn’t matter anyways, nobody hears me

Everybody in this world fucking fears me

I’m a walking weapon of mass destruction

Who’s in desperate need of liposuction

Never once mastered the art of seduction

Never once needed a proper introduction

I sold my soul to the devil, the underworld level

My favorite escape is hard rock and heavy metal

I don’t need to contribute to your society

I’ll keep building my dreams ever so quietly

It’s only offensive when I’m the one who does it

So offensive it brings the world to destruction

Socially awkward is the name of my game

Everything else would be too fucking tame

I'm Not Laughing

BEEP! “Dr. Love, your twelve o’clock is here to see you.”

“Send him in.”

Claire Love sat in her easy chair with her high heeled feet propped up and a cup of rosemary tea in her hands. The smell relaxed her senses, but not enough to keep the barrage of questions from swirling in her mind. How would she tell Alexander Percival what she needed to tell him? What would his reaction be? Would this put a strain in their therapist-client relationship? She took a sip of hot tea and closed her eyes as she waited for her client to enter her office. Just to show she was serious about trying to relax, she pressed a button on her remote and played gentle piano music on the stereo. Still not enough to put her at ease.

There was a knock on her door and upon being told to come in, Alexander Percival waddled in the room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and a worried expression that equaled his therapist’s. “So what’s the emergency, Dr. Love?”

“Thank you for coming by on such short notice, Alex. Please, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

He took his gray hooded sweatshirt off and hung it across his own easy chair, complete with its own footrest. His dismal expression told the story of not being able to relax despite the cushy chair’s comfortable features. He sat with his spine hunched over and his fingers drumming on the coffee cup.

Claire placed her tea mug on the coffee table and took deep breaths as she tried to come up with the right words to say. “Alex…I want you to know that…I enjoy these sessions of ours. I really do. I enjoy learning new things about you. I enjoy giving you healing when you need it the most. Nothing will change that. However…I want to preface this by saying…I know you don’t actually have hostile feelings towards women.”

“…What? What are you talking about?”

Claire pulled an iPad out of the coffee table’s drawer and scrolled through it as she explained herself. “I went through your Twitter feed last night. I saw something there that upset me deeply. This Tweet goes a while back in your history, but it’s still there and it still gives me chills every time I read it. In this Tweet, you’re doing a parody of feminine hygiene product commercials. And…my stomach hurts reading this out loud…you said…‘If it smells like dead fish and you’re nowhere near the ocean, buy a shipping container full of…Vagisil Pussy Wipes.’”

Alex’s massive hand trembled so badly that he spilled a little bit of coffee on his blue jeans. He gave a tiny yelp and wiped the stain off with the belly of his shirt.

“It doesn’t end there,” continued Claire, swallowing a wad of saliva. “In a similar Tweet, you refer to tampons as Tampax Tube Steaks. You also refer to maxi pads as Blood Huggies.” Holding her palm against her aching stomach, she placed the iPad back on the coffee table and said, “Alex, do you see where I’m going with this? I know you have a weird sense of humor, but this goes beyond comedy. Comedy can’t be comedy if it’s not funny. These kinds of jokes will do more damage than good.”

Alex downed the rest of his coffee and tossed the Styrofoam cup in the rubbish bin. He hunched over and ran his trembling fingers through his thick brown hair. He seemed to have a more difficult time coming up with the right words than his therapist. She even detected a tiny tear dropping down where his coffee stain was.

“You know what this conversation reminds me of?” he said with a shaky voice. “It reminds me of being back in college with a creative writing professor who wanted me to submit only G-rated stuff. I couldn’t have any R-rated fun around her and she threw it in my face all the time. I gave her what she wanted…and all I got was a lousy C+ in return.” He lifted his blushing face. “I feel like you’re trying to censor me, Dr. Love. I don’t want to be censored.”

“Alex…listen to me….this is not about being R-rated, G-rated, PG-rated, or whatever. This is about using common sense. Your Tweet was buried so far beneath the rest of your history that you dodged a bullet when it came to getting backlash. But what if the wrong people saw that Tweet? What if you finally managed to find a girlfriend you liked and she read that? What if your boss read that? What if your writing became famous one day and a media outlet picked up your Tweet? Are you really prepared to defend those jokes against the ones who mean the most to you?”

Alex’s voice grew even shakier than before. “So what? You want me to ask you for forgiveness? You think I don’t know how the online mob mentality works? I could ask for forgiveness over and over again and it won’t make a difference. I could literally be on my hands and knees and it wouldn’t be enough. I gave up on asking for forgiveness a long time ago.”

Claire took a sip of tea to settle her anxious tummy. “Alex, you don’t have to ask me for forgiveness. I already forgive you. It’s not my job to cast stones at you. Unconditional love is a prerequisite for being a sex therapist. But you’re right about one thing: those other people might not be as forgiving as me. Which is why it’s important that you do something about this Tweet before everything spirals out of control.”

“You want me to delete it? Why? So that I can prove the conformists and gatekeepers of the world right? So that I can remind them that they can do whatever they want to me without resistance? This is a free country, Dr. Love. I don’t have to justify my first amendment rights to anybody.”

“That’s true. But there’s something you should know about the first amendment. It protects you from the legal consequences of free speech, not the social consequences. In other words, you won’t go to jail for anything you say as long as you don’t defame anybody. But free speech is a two-way street. If you have the right to make sexist jokes online, then your critics have the right to respond to you however they want, not the least of which is labeling you a social pariah. Alex, if you want to be in a creative field, you have to learn to take criticism gracefully.”

Claire could tell that Alex was doing his damnedest to hold back his tears and shield his red face. He shook some more as he refused to engage his sex therapist.

“Alex, you don’t hate women. I know you don’t. That’s not who you are. But when I read those Tweets, as a woman, I think to myself…I don’t feel safe around this person anymore.”

Another small tear splashed onto Alex’s jeans. It was obvious to Clare that he couldn’t stand breaking down in front of a woman whose job it was to build self-esteem. He pulled himself up and staggered towards the door.

“Wait, don’t go!” Claire pleaded. “Please. Just do me this favor.” Handing him the iPad, she said, “Delete what you’ve posted. This isn’t about censorship. This is about your life. This hatred is not worth defending. You’re better than this.”

“Better than what, exactly?” said Alex with a sniff. “Better than a C+ student who couldn’t hack it with a G-rating?”

“Please, Alex. I know you’re hurting now, but you’ll hurt even more if this joke circulates to the wrong people. Nobody’s asking you to change who you are. I’m just asking you to use some common sense. Please…delete these messages. Do it for the women in your life who trust you and love you.”

Alex’s breathing became labored as he wiped another tiny droplet out of his eyes. He kept his back to Claire as if to stall for an answer, as if this choice was the most difficult one he’d ever made. She could see that he thought his individuality was on the line and she knew nobody should have to compromise that. But in the end, Alex turned to face her without lifting his head. He reached for the iPad and sat back down to do his work. After a few more long seconds of stalling and refusing to crack, he tapped the screen a few times and handed the iPad back to his therapist.

“It’s done. The Tweets are gone.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Thank you so much for doing that for me. How do you feel?”

Still refusing to lift his head, he answered, “Hurt…defeated…controlled…embarrassed. I’m an English student, I should have more words for it somewhere. Humiliated…sorrowful….”

“I know you’re hurting, Alex, but whether you know it or not, you did the right thing by deleting those Tweets. You’re not a sexist. You’re just a guy who made a mistake. You don’t need to be punished for it by the online mob.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Alex’s tears came more frequently and his voice grew even shakier. Pouting sympathetically, Claire crossed the room and cradled his head in her arms. “It’s okay, Alex. It’s okay. I forgive you. Let it all out. You are an amazing human being. You are sweet. You are kind. But most of all…you are loved. After our sessions are over, I’m sure you’ll find a lovely woman who’ll agree with all of those things I’ve said.”

“Crying sucks. Goddamn, I’m such a snowflake.”

“No, you’re not. Snowflake is a derogatory term for a natural emotion. You’re just a highly sensitive person. And to be honest…I like that in a man. Now, what shall we work on today?”

The embrace was broken and Alex snorted more salty liquids up his nose while wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve. “Can I have some of that tea?”

“Of course you can, Alex.”

Ripping the Piss

VERSE 1

Take a beautiful song, turn it into a joke

Every loving lyric burned into smoke

The message is gone, now only bathos

The singer is dead, now only pathos

Satire has been placed in the wrong hands

Out of the control of your favorite bands

Come on, everybody, let’s point and laugh

Only later will we worry about the aftermath

CHORUS

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Your ignorance is far from bliss!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Turn it up! Turn it up, bitch!

VERSE 2

Take a beautiful love, turn it into porn

Make them wish they were never born

Into a world where nothing is sacred

Into a world for adults who are jaded

Sex and violence, all one in the same

You’re the biggest jackass in the game

Your so-called comedy is fucking lame

Your writing staff has no fucking brains

EXTENDED CHORUS

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Your ignorance is far from bliss!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Turn it up! Turn it up, bitch!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

Motherfucking swing and a miss!

Oh-oh-oh! Ripping the piss!

I hope it’s worth all the shit!

VERSE 3

Take a beautiful woman, reduce her to tears

Take a handsome man, drown him in beers

Take a sweet little baby, laugh at his fears

Take a broken teenager, whom nobody hears

Take an elderly grandma, steal her checks

Take a dying grandpa, lethally inject

Nobody’s laughing except for you, buddy

Enjoy their trips to a grave so muddy

FINAL BRIDGE

Ripping the piss! Ripping the piss!

Covered in shit! Covered in shit!

Look what you did! Look what you did!

Taking our sorrows and ripping the piss!

Laugh Like You're Dumb

The raven stared down upon the two hillbilly gangsters like a judge in his bench giving a lengthy prison sentence. The wasteland was the perfect place to dispose of a dead body since nobody came out here and the heat would cause the corpse to decompose faster. The only witnesses to this crime were the stoic raven and the leafless tree it stood upon. The two rednecks used shovels to dig a shallow grave for their fallen victim: a beautiful young girl in a bloodstained white dress. Even in death, she still had ropes bound around her body and duct tape over her mouth, the latter of which prompted one of the murderers to tell a joke.

“Hey, Billy-Bob, how do you start a conversation about rape? Peel the tape off of the victim’s mouth!” The sociopaths weren’t the only ones who got a good chuckle out of it. A college student named Daniel Jason let out an uncomfortably long hyena howl to where his ribs and back were both aching. And then everything went black and a pause symbol manifested itself on the screen.

The classroom lights went up and Daniel was slowly coming down from his laughter spell. The entire class, including the elderly teacher Jonathan McAvoy, stared at him with fire in their eyes and downward eyebrows. As the final few chuckles departed from Daniel’s belly, the blond-haired frat boy looked around and shrugged his shoulders. “What? What’s everyone looking at me for?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Jason, why is everybody looking at you?” asked the white-haired and fuzzy-bearded Mr. McAvoy rhetorically. “Would somebody like to explain to him why we’re all staring at him in disbelief? Oh, Miss Miller, how about you?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” said the short pink haired Christie Miller. She cleared her throat and said, “You know, Daniel, the reason we’re all staring holes into you right now is because you laughed at something nobody ever should. There’s nothing funny about rape or murder. It’s demoralizing, it’s traumatizing, and it’s the most violent thing you could do to another human being.”

“Give me a break, lady!” said Daniel while throwing his hands up defensively. “Why do you feminists have to ruin everything for the rest of us? We can’t laugh at anything anymore because it might be offensive to someone else. What happened to us? What the hell’s going on here?!”

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” said Mr. McAvoy as he walked up to Daniel’s desk and placed his palms on the surface while glaring at his student. “This isn’t about political correctness or artistic license. Over the years, some of us, not you included, have learned a simple philosophy that everyone should adopt: basic human decency. In other words, we’re supposed to treat each other like we ourselves want to be treated. Suppose a real life rape victim heard you laughing at that joke. Then what? Are they just supposed to ‘cowboy up’ and take it?”

“Yes! You’re damn right they should!” shouted Daniel back at his teacher, who then backed up a few steps. “I don’t have to dumb down my sense of humor just because there are pussies and wusses in this room! Nobody tells me what I can and can’t laugh at!”

Christie shot up from her seat and retorted, “Fine! Then you don’t get to tell the rest of us what to laugh at either! That means if you slip on a banana peel and smash your head open on the floor, the entire class is allowed to laugh at you because that would pretty much be the same thing as America’s Funniest Home Videos!”

Daniel chuckled sarcastically and said, “Please. You’re missing the whole point of America’s Funniest Home Videos, Crusty. They’re funny because they’re happening to somebody else. Of course it wouldn’t be funny if it happened to me.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Jason, you’ve proven to everyone in this class that you’re not capable of having empathy for others,” said the film studies teacher as he folded his arms. “You know who else doesn’t have empathy for others? Bullies, serial killers, rapists, animal abusers, basically the entire sewage system of our society. You wouldn’t happen to be one of those people, would you, Mr. Jason?”

Daniel scrunched his face and shrugged his shoulders in confusion while saying, “What the hell are you talking about?! Laughing about rape isn’t the same as condoning it! I don’t go around raping random women because I want a good laugh!”

“I’d really like to believe that, Daniel,” said Christie in a low, but tense voice. “I’d like to believe that you’re just a good person with a twisted sense of humor. Those people do exist. But then I go back to the other things you’ve said today, about how feminists are ruining everything and victims of abuse should just toughen up. How are any of us supposed to trust you knowing what kind of stances you take?”

“And just so you know, Daniel,” said Mr. McAvoy. “Feminists aren’t ruining anything in this country. If it wasn’t for them, women wouldn’t have the right to vote, they wouldn’t have the right to divorce their husbands, they wouldn’t have the right to embark on their own careers, basically, they’d still be second class citizens. In some ways, they still are and it’s all because of people like you who perpetuate that ignorant attitude we’re supposed to be fighting.”

During the last few seconds where he was being berated, Daniel sat at his desk looking down at his shoes while his anger boiled over in the form of shaking and heavy nose breathing. He finally pounded the desk with open palms and shouted, “That’s it! I’ve had just about all I can take of you stupid bastards! I’m leaving! If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to the cafeteria to cool down! I’m going to eat a ham sandwich and watch Anthony fucking Jeselnik on my iPhone! And if none of you like that, you can all go straight to hell! Fuck you guys, I’m out of here!”

Daniel shoved his desk to the ground and flipped the entire class the double birds before picking up his backpack and stomping out of the classroom. “Don’t plan on coming back!” yelled Mr. McAvoy before he received an extra middle finger from the hissy-fit-throwing frat boy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m really sorry about Mr. Jason’s behavior,” said Mr. McAvoy. “I’ll make sure he’s never allowed to set foot on this campus ever again. We don’t need that kind of ignorance in a place that’s supposed to be about education.”

“No!” yelled Christie while holding up a flat palm. After a brief moment of silence, she said, “Don’t expel him just yet. He may be a sexist pig, but he’s not completely without empathy. If you’ll all excuse me…I’m going to go give him some!”

It had been a whole half hour since Daniel Jason stormed out of Jonathan McAvoy’s film studies class. The frat boy sat at a table in the cafeteria by himself munching on a ham sandwich and watching dark comedian Anthony Jeselnik on his iPhone, just like he said he would. Every demented joke to come out of Anthony’s mouth made Daniel chuckle with delight and forget about the humiliation he suffered in the classroom.

And then the familiar throat-clearing sound got his attention. He looked up from his iPhone and saw Christie Miller standing across the table from him and smiling while waving. “Jesus H. Christ, Christie, what do you want? Are you here to tell me that I just offended a bunch of Christians by saying Jesus H. Christ? Those religious assholes say it all the time and nobody gives them shit about it.”

Still with a roguish smile on her face, Christie brushed her dyed pink hair back and said, “Relax, big boy, I’m not here to chastise you. I just wanted you to meet my new best friend. He’s into the same things you are and you two would really hit it off. Maybe you could let him into your little fraternity.”

Daniel suddenly felt a hard slap on his broad right shoulder as a muscular black arm was wrapped around him in an affectionate way. Daniel gulped a huge wad of saliva and shook nervously as he saw the big black football player standing over him with a seductive grin on his face. “Now hold on there, partner!” said the black dude. “Your ass is about to get some sweet Texas loving!”

The frat boy stared into his offender’s eyes with horror on his face and a quivering lip. He could barely get out a frail, “Uh-oh” before he shot up from his seat and tried to bolt out of the cafeteria in one piece. He didn’t get too far. He banged his knee on one of the tables and collapsed to the ground holding his knee, prompting everybody in the cafeteria, Christie and her “new friend” included, to laugh until their ribs ached.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” yelled Daniel as he rolled around on the ground clutching his knee. They didn’t shut up. They grew louder in their donkey laughs, causing him to have a tear roll down his cheek.

As soon as Christie and her new friend got their back-splitting laughter out of their systems, the pink-haired student pulled out her wallet and handed the football stud a wad of twenty dollar bills. “Keep your money, baby,” he said. “That kid’s sweet little ass is payment enough!”