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By Root 998 0

art was good or bad or even worthy of an admission price. It was all about the Benjamins and that most basic of human itches-curiosity. Not to mention that the people who were the most outraged by the moral fecundity of the art-a guy who was probably already in the process of cheating on his second wife and a church built on the concrete foundation of hiding and transporting pedophiles-were both standing on very soft and unstable moral ground. But he got the attention every politician craves and they-more than likely-saw a spike in the green cabbage their dedicated Sunday churchgoers drop into the basket each week. It was a win / win situation for the mayor AND the pope. Meanwhile-I got a five-minute routine out of it that I performed onstage and as a guest on David Letterman and Jay Leno. See? What a great system.

Stand-up comedy and comedy in general is the ultimate form of free speech because you get to poke holes in all the pretentious bubbles politicians and pundits and popes and pretenders try to float over our heads.

Every single album and DVD and television special and book-most likely including this one-that I have ever put on public sale has been banned or scorned or both by the Catholic Church. And-in the nineties-by Tipper Gore. She made them put an explicit lyrics/language sticker on my CDs and DVDs. Guess what happened? The sales quadrupled. So here's to hoping that-as you read this-the Catholic Church is warning teenagers and kids everywhere NOT to read Why We Suck. And just in case they are somehow not offended by and/or banning it yet-let me make sure they do. Sorry. This'll just take a couple of lines here:

JESUS WAS A GIANT HOMO!

TIPPER GORE'S A DYKE!

See? That didn't take too long. I may have just spiked the sales of this book by several thousand copies. I didn't take time to overtly offend the Muslims because, well, they actually BLOW YOU UP when they get pissed.

That's why-for all of its faults and fat pets and celebutards and warmongering figureheads-this country is still the best chance humanity has. There may be a lot of noise and news conferences and finger pointing but-in the end-you pretty much get to do or say whatever the fuck you want. Whether you are an idiot or a true sage-it doesn't really make a difference.

I'll take five Anna Nicole Smiths for every Martin Luther King. And if Reverend King wants to sleep around while he's sacrificing his life in the name of a world-altering civil charge-hey, line up the ladies.

Loud, stupid and overeating will suffice as long as we also have the funny, the fierce and the intellectual.

C-SPAN versus pay-per-view porn.

NPR versus Howard Stern.

Monster Truck Races versus the national Scrabble competition.

I want it all and I want it available 24/7.

Let the terrorists have their seventy-two virgins.

I'll take an actual, experienced hot forty-seven-year-old mom.

And a pizza.

CHAPTER 2 - You're Kids Are NOT Cute

Yeah yeah-we know. We all know. Your kids are special. They are talented and gifted and smart and gorcial. They are talented and gifted and smart and gorgeous and endlessly cute and full of unbelievable inner light and extraordinary ability. They walked early talked early have expansive and unique motor skills and they should be kid model/stars. They have the most beautiful eyes and the most plump little red cheeks and the tiniest little toes and they are so endlessly fascinating that you just wish you could eat them all up in one big happy bite.

Yeah well-here's another headline: they also suck.

A lot.

To anyone outside of the precious inner sanctum that includes you, your spouse, the kid's grandparents and some of the tiny dimwit's classmates-your kid sucks so bad he or she is a living breathing vacuum of suckitude.

Everyone else hates him/her.

The dog. The cat. The other kids in the family.

The aunts, the uncles-even the godparents.

I am an uncle and godparent. I know of what I speak.

Yes, the kid may sometimes be cute and maybe even-every other odd time-on occasion-even almost bearable.

But most of the time