I'm a dick. I have the highest degree of dickitude. You could call me Dr. Dick. I wouldn't mind. Unless you ask me to take your temperature rectally. I'm not that kind of doctor.
Which is fine, I think, because when you look at all the death and destruction and corruption and people with New Jersey driver's licenses, it's hard to take anything seriously. Even death. I treat life like I do when rewatching a shitty movie: I know how it ends, so I spend my time making fun of all the insane plot points and horrible acting. It's the philosophy of someone who grew up watching "Mystery Science Theatre 3000" and "Beavis and Butthead". Also, it's the overruling philosophy of Twitter.
Just laugh at everything.
The problem with most people lies in the fact that they don't find death as any kind of laughing matter. Unless they think the deceased is a douchebag, that is. Then, whatever.
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Amy Winehouse died on Saturday. As a living, breathing, smoking, drinking, cranking human being, her life was a public punchline. This was never not okay. Nobody shouted that it was distasteful to make fun of an addict, or that we should be worried about her health. She was Lindsey Lohan with talent. Born for ridicule.
Then she croaked. And for a celebrity like that, one would expect the jokes made about her life before would've come tenfold on Twitter, the way they did with Ryan Dunn, Nate Dogg, etc. Nope. Nothing but an outcry of insensitivity and remorse. Where did the funny, offensive Twitter I grew to know and love go? Are we getting more sensitive as a fake internet society? This is not my beautiful house. How did I get here?
The answer is simple: Amy Winehouse had too many fans. Famous fans. She was regarded as an artist, as a legit musician. Twitter giants Kelly Oxford and Rob Delaney were quick to point out how senseless and mean it was to post jokes about her, yet neither had the same feelings towards Ryan Dunn.* Why? Because they didn't give a shit about Ryan Dunn, much like I don't give a shit about Amy Winehouse.
*Delaney did point out the smugness of Roger Ebert's "insensitive" remarks about Dunn, but it was more about Ebert than anything else. He was silent otherwise.
It's selective morality. Even bland jokers play the death game. Late Show writer Justin Stangel routinely makes fun of Corey Haim whenever a celebrity passes, yet nobody gives him any shit because none of us ever took Haim seriously. He doesn't carry the emotional attachment that Winehouse fans have for her. So that makes it alright.
I've expressed my fandom for Dunn many times. As a drug-taking, confused and angry teenager, "Jackass" always put me in a good mood, and Dunn was my favorite amongst the cast. That didn't stop me from tweeting and retweeting jokes. I don't pick and choose what's funny, deciding that things are only laughable if they don't have anything to do with me or the people I like. Jokes are jokes, and what's funny is what's funny. I was bummed out that Dunn died, jokes about his death made me laugh again. That's the point.
To me, there is nothing that can't be poked fun at. Life itself is a joke. Just watch Fox News or CNN for an hour if you need a friendly reminder. And as the Joke Master himself, George Carlin, once said: dead people give less than a shit about the sanctity of life.
Neither do I, George, neither do I. Fuck em. And fuck Amy Winehouse, now that I think about it.
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