Louis C.K. was funny

Comedy is a risky business. The shelf life of any given joke is like six months, and then poof — what we all were just cackling at is suddenly off limits, and everyone starts pointing fingers and passing the blame like the backward, lying cowards we all are at heart.

“Louis C.K. was never funny!”

Then, how did he get all those millions of dollars, hundreds of thousands of hours on stage, three sitcoms, all types of hosting gigs and appearances in multiple major motion pictures? If Louis C.K. was never funny, then why did all of America give this man money and endless opportunities to say outlandish shit for decades?

Was it the illuminati? Are they to blame again!

And before you hop onto your high horse and light out to your nearest soapbox to proclaim your divine purity, let me just say, real fast — fuck you!

I’m here to tell ya if you’re over 40 years old, you need to sit down and shut the fuck up already about everything because I just watched “Weird Science” motherfucker, and the rabbit is out of the bag on you gross, graying, grungers of yore. John Hughes was your fucking champion for forever and a day, and that man was one sick puppy, and “Weird Science” is his “Breathless,” except it’s super-fucking gross, lurid, racist, classicist, homophobic, obnoxious, boorish and exploitive, especially to actor Michael Berryman, who gets paraded out as if he’s a kept captive circus freak and, yet, John Hughes was your boy!

You fucking, no-nothing know-it-alls crowned that dude king of the Reagan era, but now you know what’s prim and proper and good for one and all?

Man, get the fuck out of my face with that nonsense. I ain’t letting none of y’all lead me down any fucking path. I’m over here walking through shadows, while you fucking pukes are walking into walls!

I fucking saw “Weird Science,” and I’m ready to march my heathen horde into The Highlands and burn it to the fucking ground, and bring you to your knees before me, because I sat through it and, like you, it’s a straight-up, big ol’ bag of trash.

Unreadable and unbelievable to the point that I’m done taking any guff from any of you motherfuckers over any fucking thing. John fucking Hughes, you’re out of your fucking tree ‘cause y’all couldn’t stop yourselves from gobbling up them jokes. Y’all was stuffing ‘em in and making room for more!

So, don’t you fucking dare tell me Louis C.K. was never funny, when you got a ticket stub from a C.K. stand-up performance in a locket hanging around your goddamn, worthless neck, muchacho!

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Did Louis C.K. get caught masturbating in front of who knows how many women he held hostage? Yes, of course he did. Should he be forgiven and thrown a microphone?

Absolutely fuckin’ not.

As far as I’m concerned, the only Louis C.K. special we should be getting is C.K. having the soles of his feet caned on live television, 500 whacks, and then march this shithead naked into the wilderness.

But does that mean I never laughed until I cried while watching “Pooty Tang”? Do you want me to lie and say that never happened? That I watch only comedies from the likes of Whit Stillman, like a sophisticated man about town, and not barbaric crap featuring repeated injuries to the groin area?

We got motherfuckers in this city walking around pretending they’ve existed in a world that was exclusively Fred Rogers-based, as if they’ve never screamed “I’m Rick James bitch!” at a party sometime between 2004 and 2017. I mean sure, I bet the other deceitful morons at the fart bar believe you, but not me. Because you’re a trash mammal, plain and simple, just like all the rest of us, laughing at shit now that won’t be funny in five to six months.

‘Cause that’s how it rolls.

Jokes get stale.

Comedians run their course.

And that’s that without exception.

Well, except for that time Pee Wee Herman married a bowl of fruit salad on national TV.

That still holds up under scrutiny.

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