Last week, I glibly wrote off The Aristocrats by doing a lame version and saying, “This is why I don’t do standup comedy.” The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that I was doing myself a disservice. And, so, for the discriminating perverts among my readers, I offer the following version of the joke:
A guy walks into a talent agent’s office. The guy could be…I don’t know…Pauly Shore. The agent could be…Lew Wasserman. Hell, it could be Jean Boudrillard and Michael Ovitz. But, that would ground the joke in a specific time period, and this joke is timeless. It’s been told by comedians for almost a hundred years. If Bob Saget hasn’t fucked it for future generations, it may be told for another hundred years. So, let’s just say that there’s a guy, and he walks into a talent agent’s office, and he and says, “Have I got an act for you!”
“Yeah?” the talent agent asks. “What do they do?”
Now, this guy had tried to sell the agent on many acts over the years. The agent was a hard man to impress, he had seen it all. This time, though, the guy knows he has a winner, so he doesn’t even bother to schmooze. “It’s a family act,” the guy says. “The Sexual Schmendricks.”
“Oh, yeah?” the agent asks, oozing ennui. “How do you figure it to be a family act?”
“The mother? Julia? She’s had her labia pierced so many times that when she walks, her jewelry knocks against the tops of her shoes. And the father, right? His name is Doug. He’s got a two inch penis. No joke. His nose is bigger than his dick. He’s a freak of nature. Anyway, the moment they hit the stage, they rip each other’s clothes off –”
“So, we need a new wardrobe every performance?”
“Aah, no. We can use tear-away costumes. It’s, uhh, easier on the budget.”
“Good. Good. Because you know the more expensive a new act is, the harder it is to sell. Go on.”
“So, ah, yeah. Doug gets Julia aroused by teasing her clit with a Barbie doll vibrator.”
“A what?”
“A Barbie doll vibrator. You know. A…a Barbie doll with a vibrating head.”
“This act got a lot of props?”
“A one time expense, I assure you. Those Barbie dolls – they’ll still be smiling in landfills 10,000 years from now.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“Anyway, once he’s got her good and hot, Doug nose fucks her. He nose fucks her right there on the stage!”
“Because of the freaky penis thing.”
“Exactly!”
“Are there kids in this act?”
“Of course! What kind of a family act would this be if there weren’t kids! Rocco is 15, Angie is 10.”
“Ten?”
“But she’s a…a young 10. Could pass for seven.”
“What are the children doing while the nose-fucking is going on?”
“They’re watching. Oh, and masturbating. Only, they don’t call it masturbation. They call it…sexual karaoke. And, every so often, one of them will stop playing with themselves and blow Scottie.”
“Scottie?”
“The dog.”
“Oh. An animal act. What kind of dog?”
“Scottish Terrier.”
“Cute dogs.”
“Absolutely. When Rocco gets dog cum on his face, well, it’s a highlight of the act.”
“He doesn’t swallow?”
“Would you?”
“I take your point.”
“The Schmendricks spent the last couple of years touring Europe. They did a couple of pay-per-views for American audiences, but they’re thinking their next performance should be podcast.”
“Market isn’t big enough.”
“That’s what they said about pay-per view. But, get a couple of kids blowing a dog, and the audience will appear. Not to mention the press the act will get when Satan walks on to the stage –”
“Satan?”
“That’s right.”
“The devil?”
“Yeeeess.”
“Will Satan accept union scale?”
“Oh, no problem. He’s willing to accept an uncredited walk on role for the fun of it. He’ll be wearing a Ronald Reagan mask, so the audience will be kept in suspense about his real identity.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, Satan has, like, 27 penises. Don’t ask. So, he manages to fuck everybody in the family – including the dog! – in every orifice they have. All at the same time!”
“And, they’re enjoying this?”
“They’re in ecstasy. And, if they aren’t, Satan rips them a new one with one of his spare penises!”
“Could get messy.”
“Make sure the floor is covered in sawdust and there should be no problem.”
“I see.”
“Then, as a climax – you should pardon the expression – a hundred genetically modified National Guardsmen rise up on pedestals on either side of the stage and piss red, white and blue on the entire family!”
“Sort of a patriotic ending.”
“Exactly. Everybody in this family loves their country – it’s their small tribute to our brave fighting men overseas.”
Long pause. “Does it have to be called the Sexual Schmendricks? I don’t know how good that would look on a marquee.”
“We could use the name the act used on their European tour.”
“What’s that?”
“The Aristocrats!”
Another pause. Even longer than the first. The guy is sitting on shpilkes, wondering how the agent is going to respond. Finally, just when the guy is sure he can’t take any more, the agent says, “You may be onto something here. But, before I agree to take on this act, they’ve got to lose the Reagan mask.”
“I’ll talk to Satan and see what he says. Why do you want him to lose the Reagan mask?”
“That would be in bad taste.”