Allowed to Make Fun of Something?

So I’ve got a story about the rules on who is allowed to make fun of something or someone, and when. I’m going to toss out a caveat that I’m not here to discuss the merits of making fun of something or someone, or that it is never ok. For the sake of this conversation, let’s assume we live in a world where the occasional making fun of something or someone is ok, but that there are rules. You know, those unwritten rules we all live by.

Like, two men shall never share an umbrella, under any circumstance. Don’t question the rules, just follow them. You just have to understand, there are these rules. You don’t have to like them or agree with them. Just know, they are there.

A little story background: I drive a truck. A big fucking truck (BFT). I could grunt at you and say something like, “uggg me man, me drive hemi”. It’s big, it’s loud, it’s got modified headers and modified intake and modified exhaust. Making up for something? No. Jerk. I just drive a big loud truck. Can you help me move? Ha! I do get that a lot. Anyways, it’s over 400 horses of pure win. It’s roomy, it’s loud, it has Sirius satellite radio – I basically have no complaints. In a wet road fishtailing incident, if anyone is keeping score, it’s Big Truck 1, Light Pole 0. And the truck came out fine, and the driver, moi, came out fine. Not a scratch. This is why one drives a big truck, you win.

My parents used to teach me about the law of gross tonnage. Like, when driving on the interstate. If a big rig wants to change lanes, he puts on his blinker. That blinker is not flashing at you to ask for permission. It’s flashing at you as a warning shot. “I am coming over.” Law of gross tonnage, I am bigger than you. So other than those big rigs, when on the road, I am the big one, and I am the winner. You’re an asshole. No no, I’m not being an ass, I’m just acting hard. I’m just trying to say that now I’ve driven a large truck, I’ll never drive something smaller. It’s an active “I’m an aggressor” feeling and a passive feeling of safety in the big ride. People reading this who drive big trucks know what I’m talking about, people who don’t drive big trucks think we’re assholes.

In my office, I’m the “big truck guy”. This means when office furniture needed moving, I move it. When we have group lunches out, I don’t drive. I typically ride with my friend, here we’ll call him “the Doctor” (don’t ask, long story). The Doctor is notoriously not a big truck guy. He recently upgraded his Honda Civic to a new Toyota Prius Hybrid thingee. Like, he could get infinite gas mileage if he wanted, not just the 50 mpg they advertise. We could pick up his car and put it in my truck bed and I could carry the car around everywhere and he’d get infinite mpg. I make fun of him all the time, but the truth is that he’s economically and environmentally conscious, and………..blah blah blah he has over an hour commute every day and saves gas money.

Anyways, the other day for lunch, he drives to lunch. You know, two dudes, cruising in the Prius, straight pimping. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Shut up. Luckily it’s not raining, so there’s no chance of two dudes, rolling in the Prius, to arrive at said lunch destination and share an umbrella. What do we do to counteract this look, these two guys rolling to lunch together in the hybrid? What any two red blooded American males in our situation would do. We up our rep with a lunch at Hooters. Yeahhhhhh boiiiiiiiiii.

Soooooooo, we’re walking across the Hooters parking lot on our way in, and from behind me to my right, I hear:

“WHAT……………THE………………….FUCK?!?!?!!?!”

“huh, sup?”

“Who the hell would drive that little thing? Jesus.”

“Dude….you...........


can’t make fun………of him............."

Wait, There’s Rules For That?

Well, not in the sense like there’s a national rules committee, or even standardized rules for everyone to follow – but everyone has their own personal set of rules that they follow, in regards to the amount of slang and levels at which they cuss depending on who the fuck they’re talking to.

I thought of this subject the other day. You see, I have a ~30 minute commute to and from work every day. The morning ride, that’s for “Mike&Mike In The Morning”, or maybe to try for that last little bit of sleep on the way to work. I kid, I kid – but for the purposes of this conversation, I don’t talk to anyone in the morning, it’s too early. The afternoon ride, that’s a different story. I definitely have phases where I am abusing the free long distance of cell phones and use that time to catch up with friends and family. So, the other day, in succession, I spoke to: my wife, my best friend of all time, my brother, and finally a friend from my old office who recently moved back to the east coast.

It amazes me the automatic, subconscious level that my brain knows the rules. It knows to what level of slang or even cussing is appropriate to all these people. It’s not a calculation, I guess it’s just a learned associative property.

Jay, you’re speaking with your wife, be nice.

“Ok honey, I’ll meet you there, drive safe.”
“Ly”
“Lee?”
“Drive safe…..ly”
“yeah, sorry, drive safely” She’s a teacher Jay, deep breath.

Next was my best friend of all time. This conversation was about an upcoming fantasy football draft. We’re both professionals, but we have a vast array of unprofessional memories together from high school through college and beyond. We talk in a lot of slang, but not a lot of cussing. Actually, come to think of it, we actually talk in a lot of movie quotes. But the point here is, it’s not that cussing isn’t allowed, we just don’t do it. Like, neither of us would blink if the other one said, “that’s bullshit!”. I guess we just don’t, from years speaking in front of each other’s wives, or speaking at work on the phone. So it’ll be more like, “CIRCUMSTANCE!!!!! That’s crap!” Don’t ask, just accept it.

Next was my brother. He’s ~8 years younger than me. Did the college thing for a while and now enlisted in the Coast Guard. He’s doing great with it, and will be commissioned soon as he entered with college credits. We talk in a lot of slang too, and it’s always SO exuberant. No rules about cussing or not, but most energy here is spent on the exuberance, not the actual words or conversation.

“yo you see that hit on Boldin last night? Crazy shit!”
“BUHLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DAT!”

And finally, I spoke with a friend of mine from my old job. We both have multiple degrees and technical professional jobs. We both have a family and a young son. We’re both good people. And we’re both just crazy fucking dirty shit talking potty mouths when we get together. Where the fuck did this come from? When did it start? I don’t know. I had to chuckle. We talked about his new job. His move. His cars. My house. My son. His son. Travel plans for the fall. It was a perfectly normal situation. Minus the constant barrage of shit fuck cocksucker dickball titty cooter.

You ever wonder where your brain came up with these rules? I understand they’re learned over time. I can’t help but think my brain has this subconscious flowchart set up for the advancement of slang and language in conversations with people. And the other person is running a similar strategy.

Jay, would you like to see it? Wait, you really have one?