Many people in this country want to tell you what you can and can’t talk about. Or sometimes they’ll tell you you can talk about something, but you can’t joke about it. Like rape. People say you can’t joke about rape. They say rape’s not funny. And I say, Fuck you, I think it’s hilarious. How do you like that? I can prove rape is funny: Picture Porky Pig raping Daisy Duck. See? Hey, why do you think they call him Porky?
And I know what men are gonna say. Daisy was askin’ for it; she was comin’ on to Porky, she had on tight feathers. Porky got horny, and he lost control. A lot of men talk like that. They blame it on the woman. They say, “She had it comin’. She was wearing a short skirt.”
Doesn’t seem fair to me; doesn’t seem right. But I believe you can joke about it. I believe you can joke about anything. It just depends on how you construct the joke, what the exaggeration is. Every joke needs one exaggeration. Every joke needs one thing to be way out of proportion.
I’ll give you an example. Have you ever seen a news story like this? Some burglar breaks into a house, steals some things, and while he’s in there, he rapes an eighty-one-year-old woman. And you think to yourself, “Why? What the fuck kind of social life does this guy have?” I want to ask him, “Why did you do that?” But I know what I’d hear: “Hey, she was comin’ on to me. She had on a tight bathrobe.” And I’m thinkin’, “Next time, be a little more selective, will you?”
Now, speaking of rape, but changing the subject slightly, you know what I wonder? Is there more rape at the Equator or the North Pole? I mean, per capita; I know the populations are different. I think it’s the North Pole.
Most people think it’s the Equator. Because it’s hot down there, people don’t wear a lot of clothing, guys can see women’s tits, they get horny, and there’s a lot of rape and a lot of fucking in general. But that’s exactly why there’s less rape at the Equator; because there’s a lot of fucking, in general. You can tell the Equator has a lot of fucking; look at the population figures. Billions of people live near the Equator. How many Eskimos we got? Thirty? Thirty-five?
No one’s gettin’ laid at the North Pole; it’s too cold. An Eskimo says to his wife, “Hey, honey, how about some pussy?” She says, “Wally, are you crazy? The windchill is 150 below!” Eskimo guys are deprived, they’re horny, they get pent up, and every now and then they gotta rape somebody.
Now, the biggest problem an Eskimo rapist has is trying to get wet leather leggings off a woman who doesn’t want to take them off. Have you ever tried to pull leather pants off someone who’s trying to kick you in the nuts? It takes a lot of effort. And, in the process, you would lose your hard-on. In fact, at the North Pole your dick would shrivel up like a stack of dimes.
That’s another thing I wonder. Does a rapist have a hard-on when he leaves the house in the morning? Or does it develop during the day while he’s walking around checkin’ out the gals? Just wondering.