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No, not the loveable Disney classic, The Aristocats. No, the Aristocrats is much more vile than anything Disney would ever fathom producing (and yes, I know the preacher is sporting wood in The Little Mermaid).
From what I gather, the Aristocrats is an age-old joke, passed down from comedian to comedian. I hadn't heard of it until this past June when my brother showed me a clip of the kids from South Park listening to Cartman tell his version of the joke. If you have not seen the clip, you need to do yourself a favor and watch it (more on how to do this later).
So what makes this joke so great? The joke always begins with a family walking into a talent agency and the agent asking to see their act. The joke always ends with a two word punchline; the family tells the agent that they call their act "The Aristocrats!". In between the comic is suppposed describe the filthiest sex acts and the most deviant behavior he or she can imagine. The purpose of the joke is to offend everyone listening. A brilliant recipe, right?
But what does it all mean? Is it even funny? The joke is basically a type of anti-humor, the listener can't help but to imagine the payoff to such a loathsome buildup. But the only reward they get is, "The Aristocrats!".
The name of the joke is derived from a bit of social commentary. Aristocrat-types have always tried to dictate morality and limit offensive speech to protect the masses, but behind closed doors they often don't live up to the clean and moral standards they demand from the populous. I'm sure this joke is alive and well considering the acitivity of the FCC (time to rein those guys back in, it was just an old tit). If you have a taste for tasteless humor, then the history won't really matter to you.
The following is an excerpt from Frank DiGiacamo's review of the Friar's Roast of Hugh Hefner. The review was published in the Ocotber 8th, 2001 edition of the New York Observer. I like the story and I think it demonstrates the power of the joke.
Gilbert Gottfried was the last man up to the podium. In his $11 gray shawl-collar tuxedo jacket with tails, black bow tie and Caesar haircut, Mr. Gottfried looked like he had just come from band practice.
Mr. Gottfried grasped the podium with both hands and, squinting out at the audience, he began the screeching parrot-like delivery that is his trademark.
"Ice-T did my whole act," he said. "So I'll do it anyway: I'm going to follow you white motherfuckers home and rape you fucking white bitches." Mr. Gottfried paused while the crowd convulsed. "You see, it's such a strong bit it still works," he said.
"Dick Gregory did the rest of my act," he continued. "I want to say--a lot of you young people don't know, but years ago, Jews were not allowed in comedy!"
Then Mr. Gottfried started in on Mr. Hefner. "Hugh Hefner doesn't need Viagra. He needs cement! He needs to take ice-cream sticks and tape it around his dick and use it as a splint!" Mr. Gottfried screamed. "But in all fairness to Hefner, he really had to fight for free speech, so we could say things we couldn't say before. Like: 'Die, you senile old bastard! Die!'"
Mr. Gottfried was killing. It was time to push the envelope.
"Tonight I'll be using my Muslim name, Hasn't Been Laid," he said. This got a big laugh. Then Mr. Gottfried began a routine that had worked extremely well for him at the Richard Belzer roast.
"A woman is on her deathbed," Mr. Gottfried said. "The husband is sitting at the corner of the bed .... [H]er hair's all dried out. Her skin's all white. All of a sudden, she goes, 'Please, honey .... '" Mr. Gottfried described the woman's verboten sexual request.
The comedian paused. Some of the audience members were looking around.
"This is a clean one," he said. The husband complies and, Mr. Gott-fried said, "the color returns to her skin; her hair looks healthy. She jumps up in bed. She's sexier and healthier than she ever was before. She looks down. Her husband's sitting at the corner of the bed, crying. She goes, 'What's the matter?'"
Mr. Gottfried waited a millisecond. "He goes, 'I could have saved my father!'"
The laughter came in gasps. There were gurgling sounds in the air and people hung doubled over, sucking air through hoarse throats.
The man in the gray tuxedo jacket looked out over the crowd. "I have a flight to California. I can't get a direct flight," Mr. Gottfried said. "They said they have to stop at the Empire State Building first."
There was a silence. Then hissing and hooting flooded forward. "Too soon," a man could be heard saying in the back of the ballroom.
When the booing started, Mr. Gottfried responded: "Awwwwwww, what the fuck do you care?" Silence fell once more.
Mr. Gottfried had his answer. Up on the podium, he began making strange movements with his arms, as if he was working some sort of invisible machine that could take him back in time to the moment right before he had pushed too far. Seconds passed.
"O.K.," he continued. His voice was not so loud.
"A man--a talent agent is sitting in his office. A family walks in. A man, woman, two kids, their little dog, and the talent agent goes, 'What kind of an act do you do?'
"At the father's signal, Mr. Gottfried said, the family disrobes en masse. "The father starts fucking his wife," he said. "The wife starts jerking off the son. The son starts going down on the sister. The sister starts fingering the dog's asshole." Mr. Gottfried's voice was growing stronger. "Then the son starts blowing his father."
The Hilton's ballroom filled with the sounds of sudden exhalations. The comedians on the dais were bug-eyed with laughter and recognition. Some of the men had dropped to all fours.
Mr. Gottfried was beaming.
"Want me to start at the beginning?" he asked.
He kept going, turning the joke into an extended bacchanal of bodily fluids, excrement, bestiality and sexual deviance. Mr. Gottfried plumbed the darkest crevices he could find. He riffed and riffed until people in the audience were coughing and sputtering and sucking in great big gulps of air. Tears ran throughout the Hilton ballroom, as if Mr. Gottfried had performed a collective tracheotomy on the audience, delivering oxygen and laughter past the grief and ash that had blocked their passageways.
Then he brought it home.
"The talent agent says, 'Well, that's an interesting act. What do you call yourselves?'"
Mr. Gottfried threw up his hands. "And they go, 'The Aristocrats!'"
There was a sound in the room that went beyond laughter.
Mr. Gottfried had gone to "The Aristocrats," the comedy equivalent of the B-flat below high C that Leontyne Price had sung at Carnegie Hall on Sunday. "The Aristocrats" is one of the definitive inside jokes among comedians. It is so definitive that comicPaul Provenza and performance artist Penn Jillette are making a digital documentary about the joke. "Every comic makes it their own," Mr. Provenza said. "The set-up is the same and the punch line is the same," but the comic puts his or her "own stamp" on the material in between.
Mr. Gottfried had used it to save himself, but also to lift the crowd to another place.
A few minutes later, Alan King paid him a high compliment.
"Forgive me," he said. "I'm just still a little touched by that asshole Gottfried."
If you read the excerpt, you would have noticed that Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) and comedian Paul Provenza have created a documentary that consists of an incredible roster of comedians telling The Aristocrats. That documentary was shown at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, but I haven't found much press about that showing. We can only hope for a release on DVD in the not too distant future.
Update:"The Aristocrats" will do festivals starting in 05 and then maybe a real release, maybe some pay TV and then DVD. This sentence is from a bulletin board post by the webmaster of Penn and Teller's official website.
In the meantime, I urge everyone to download and view the South Park clip from the documentary. A few words of warning, you will be repulsed by what is said in that clip; so don't complain later. The link to the page with the link to the South Park clip (found at the bottom).
Update on 8/17/05:
For the poor bastards on dial-up, I have created an audio file from the South Park video. It's 439kb; get it here (right-click then 'save link as').
I have also added two clips from NPR. The first clip is a short (3:02 minutes) interview with Bob Saget (356kb). The second clip is a longer (8:28 minutes) segment with Penn Jillette and Paul Provenza (995kb). It is basically an overview of the movie and features several small sound-bites.
That's a helluva clip. Even in my most twisted of moments, I would never have come up with something like that. Wonderful.
call me stupid, but that joke just isnt funny. the "insider" bit of comedians doesnt make it any better. something about hacks like Carey, Sagget (is he a comedian?), and that fucking tired ass williams patting themselves on the back over that one just rubs me wrong. and why is it too soon for 9/11 jokes. America is a bunch of pussies. the same sorta joke got Stern fired umpteen years ago with the one way ticket to the bridge bit. You americans get huffy when someone brings up that cold day in hell that is so easy to forget about until someone brings it up again. Go to target and buy a new made in china flag to tape to the bumper of your SUV next to the "dont blame me, I didnt vote for bush" bumper sticker, and then fuck off you 51% christ lovin bullshitters.
To 'Joe mama' (by the way, that's a very clever nom de plume):
I won't go as far as calling you stupid, but I think you have missed the point entirely.
As for Americans being pussies, you're entitled to your opinion, but I don't have a problem with someone being upset with a 9/11 joke less than one month after the tragic event. Personally, I thought it was funny, but I can't find fault with those that didn't.
Thanks for your well reasoned contribution to my blog.
Where can I see the complete, original and uncut Gilbert Gottfried version of the Aristocrats joke from the Hugh Hefner roast at the Friar's Club in 2001. If anyone knows where I can see or obtain this please e-mail me at steven609@aol.com. Thanks you.