Someone late at night rediscovered this old post and looked at it. Didn’t like it. Just looked. So, here you see what they saw.
I was planning to write a piece about insult humor for a while, and then Don Rickles had to up and die… that danged old hockey puck!’
So the master of insults is gone, and it will be even harder to explain why calling someone a proud and prissy poo-poo head is not a bad thing to do. Because, really… strong language is not really strength and it takes intelligence to be a mean little picky-wit. (No pun intended… because no pun was used, Duh! How slow are you compared to molasses around Christmas time?)
You may have heard me say that I don’t like hurtful humor. I don’t believe bad words are required to make something funny. I don’t think humor should be weaponized. Jokes that make you die laughing are too much like murder, and people who have no sense of humor can’t be hurt by them…
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Catch a Falling Star 
I always consider the prolific use of profanity to be a sign of a limited mind. (Or maybe Tourette’s?) If every utterance has a curse in it, how am I to know when you are just spouting off or you really mean it?
I agree whole -heartedly.