It’s time we all calm down and check our indignant nature at the door.
Go ahead and be “shocked” with what was said at the Donald Trump MSG rally in NYC recently. Spot-on to laugh out loud when the Trump campaign claims they had no idea what was going to be said, which is actually funnier and more insulting than what was on stage. Be insulted and rail away at a so-called comedian who was only looking for clickbait and a way to get back on the national circuit. Be all of those things.
Stop being so stunned as if we’ve never been here before, because we’ve gone way over the edge in reaction to insult comedy.
This is what some comedians do, and they’re damn good at it. Others, as in this instance, couldn't light a comedy fire with a blowtorch. It is then up to us what we do with it and how we react.
The first time I heard Don Rickles slam away at Jews, blacks, fat and ugly people, (remembering this was a time in the Cro-Magnon comedy days when funny had an entirely different meaning than it has today), I laughed my ass off. Around the same time, Joan Rivers was making rounds and was verbally brutalizing celebrities, women with abusive husbands, the abusive husbands themselves, and zinging anyone within her purview. Also, laughed my ass off.
Not once did I ever consider anything being said as a nailed-down characterization of the people being hammered. Even as a kid, I knew these were jokes. I could tell the difference between attempted comedy and real life. Unfortunately, that line has lately been erased, mostly for the sake of those who feel the need to be pissed off about something, anything, every single day of their lives.
In the world of comedy, insult humor—whether directed at individuals, groups, or entire audiences—has long been a staple, intended to entertain by pushing boundaries and breaking taboos. At the Trump rally, Tony Hinchcliffe’s tasteless jokes about Puerto Rico ignited a conflagration of criticism. While Hinchcliffe’s pander was received by some as racially insensitive and derogatory, his humor strategy, whether it worked or not, was to tap into controversy for a boost in visibility and social media clicks—a method that has arguably proven effective, if polarizing.
He knew exactly what he was doing. Turns out he even stage-tested those jokes the night before at a local comedy club.
Hinchcliffe’s approach, though incendiary, speaks to a broader question of how we interpret insult comedy and why reactions to it have evolved. Decades ago, comedians like Rickles and Rivers were known for their biting roasts and irreverent jabs at everyone and everything. Rickles, for instance, built a career on taking playful digs at people of all backgrounds without invoking the level of outrage that Hinchcliffe faced. It was widely understood that his humor was not hateful but meant to break down social barriers through laughter. Even when Rivers took on sensitive topics, audiences largely understood the nuance and intent behind her jokes, leading to laughter rather than animosity.
Some are trying to make a point about his comments being “out of place” because they were at a fever-pitch and very public political rally. From a performer’s perspective, he was in exactly the right (pun intended), place for those jokes. Another red meat gnawing gathering of MAGA followers who sit on the edge of their buttocks just waiting to slam away at “libtards” and what to them are the easily-insulted.
As for the “how dare he insult people in such a public setting”, insult comics have been railing away on national talk shows, variety shows, nightclub settings and, more recently, every form of social media known to slug across the firmament. Going back to our examples, Rickles and Rivers were mainstays on prime-time television celebrity roasts, where the entire nation could take in their jabs. Both and a number of their contemporaries spewed away on “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson” and were seen and laughed at by 100 times more people in one night than were at Madison Square Garden for “swimming with the MAGA’s”.
Anyone watch the recent Tom Brady roast, still available on Netflix for all it's insult glory? Brady himself claims to be sorry he participated because of "the harm it did his children", but I don't recall anyone being prepared to skewer those comics and alleged jokesters for their vile spits and spews.
The line between what’s humorous and what’s offensive is subjective, varying based on personal thresholds, social context, and cultural attitudes. Some people may find a joke’s shock value funny, while others might view it as unnecessarily offensive.
In Hinchcliffe’s case, critics argue that he leverages shock humor without regard for the context or sensitivity of the subject matter, aiming more for internet notoriety than meaningful commentary. By delivering inflammatory jokes in front of a politically charged crowd, he knowingly tapped into divisive sentiment, courting outrage to drive up his own popularity and visibility.
It worked.
Hinchcliffe has been a pariah on the comedy circuit for a number of years, gaining a quick gig here and there, but ignored by the industry and his peers, for the most part. As I have worked with numerous comedians over the years, I can tell you there are very few, if any that I know, who have a spit of respect for Hinchcliffe. His demeaning attitude and alleged stealing of material is well known. That’s why he jumped at the chance for what he knew was a “can’t miss” opportunity to get back in the national stage. Whether it changes his fortunes is another story, but win or lose from Trump, I guarantee Hinchcliffe is today telling his few friends, “I’M BACK!”
So what role does the audience play in deeming whether a joke is “too far”? In truth, every individual sets their line on what’s humorous, based on personal values, experiences, and beliefs. A joke that one person finds outrageous, another might perceive as innocuous or even refreshing.
For instance, Dave Chappelle often discusses race, politics, and sexuality, blending humor with insight and criticism. He has often been downright insulting to innumerable people and groups. Although some audiences see his jokes as provocations, others understand them as a candid examination of tough topics, showing how humor can both provoke and enlighten without alienating.
Insult comedy is complicated because its very nature is to offend in a way that’s meant to be cathartic rather than harmful. However, the impact often depends on audience reactions, where modern comedians are more susceptible to backlash. Comedians have learned, some the hard way, that offensive humor might no longer receive a free pass. With the advent of social media, negative feedback can circulate rapidly, amplifying criticisms that might have once been isolated to a small group. Ironically, while this outrage can sometimes damage a comedian’s reputation, it can also serve as fuel for media attention and engagement, precisely what Hinchcliffe sought.
Insult comedy is an art form that is honed to perfection by professionals who not only know the lines, but know when to cross them. Tony Hinchcliffe is a hack, just another Kid Rock wanna-be loading up to shoot more beer cans. Ignore him and he’ll be back writing jokes for cable roasts that come and go faster than his tired schtick.
This is not to dismiss the fact that humor can indeed be harmful. Insult comedy can perpetuate stereotypes, reinforce negative biases, and harm individuals or communities if used irresponsibly. But ultimately, its impact is defined by whether or not someone chooses to voice their disapproval. Without a response, even the most distasteful joke fades into oblivion. Comedy, for all its boundary-pushing and offense, loses its edge when people stop reacting to it, leaving comedians like Hinchcliffe reliant on controversy to remain relevant.
The current climate has changed the stakes for comedians who use insult humor. Audiences are quicker to call out what they feel is “over the line,” while comedians like Hinchcliffe continue to push these boundaries, sometimes purely for the attention it generates. This debate reveals a cultural shift, where jokes that once simply elicited laughter are now dissected and analyzed for intent and social impact.
Hinchcliffe was racist, insulting, mean-spirited and little more than another Right-wing generator of derision, mocking, hate and anger. The effects on Trump’s election possibilities could be staggering. Then again, it more likely will dissipate with time and more social media shoveling of excrement that has the effect of burying anything quickly and deep
within our consciousness.
Be angry. Rail away. Slap the scarlet letter on his forehead and those of everyone at that rally who spit vitriol at people just for clicks and groans. But understand, that is the reaction they were seeking.
For better or worse, the reaction to insult comedy is no longer as simple as a chuckle or a roll of the eyes. And while some people may advocate for thicker skin, others will continue to speak up, keeping insult comedy—and its controversies—relevant for years to come.
Leaving us to consider reaction and perspective.
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