I spent my teenage years in a little town in the East Bay of the SF Bay Area. It was a pretty conservative place, full of comfortably upper-middle class families whose idea of humor was closer to Rich Little than George Carlin. In spite of this, Slope’s patron saint had a show in our town (which, to this day, strikes me as pretty incredible), and I took advantage of the opportunity to see him for what turned out to be the only time in my life.
For reasons I can’t remember, I decided that, in addition to taking my girlfriend (who is now my wife), I also brought her parents. Sweet people, but fairly buttoned-down. Suffice it to say that my enjoyment of the show was curtailed a great deal by my cringing and feeling uncomfortable that they were sitting right there with us, listening to all the raw humor. I was reminded of this yesterday when I happened upon this clip, which is a portion of the exact show I saw decades ago. It’s as true today as it was then.
