Strange, animalistic squeaking noises on Saturday afternoon roused me from my desk - or wherever it was I had been slouching - to investigate. Sounded like they were coming from the kitchen. Wa-ay too loud to be a mouse though. From the kitchen, they sounded like they were coming from outside, so I peer down into the space behind the flats. A neighbour is changeing a tyre on his car, with his toddler son helping. They have an air pump. The squeaking had evidently been Compressed Air Humour which, when you think about it, may be the best kind.
True, I had been watching the South Park movie for the first time that morning, which had probably skewed my values a little. I had been very impressed by 
South Park: Bigger Longer and Uncut. Seriously. (I realise a whole swathe of you are rolling your eyes now and are no doubt toadally like, duh... but bear with me - mkay?) A film which apparently sets out to argue the Healing Righteousness of the Fart Joke and to scorn, furthermore the moral cowardice of individuals who crusade against 'potty mouth', it categorically refutes the idea that 'infantile' and 'obscene' humour cannot have serious intent. I don't remember the last time I used the word 'obscene' (outside of discussing economics, of course), and it feels weird even writing the word, as if I was using parentheses like rubber gloves or something). Word is, very simply: we have more fundamental things to worry about than kids amusing themselves with 'strong' language. Things which are being actively ignored in place of policing our vocabulary. Real things. South Park points the finger and hoots, Displacement Activity! As Kyle has it, dude, what kind of sick joke is that? I laughed so much that it did actually hurt.
"A sinister cabal of superior writers."
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