Frankly, my dear, I don't give a ...

Blogger Michelle Malkin recently received an invitation from Napoleon Dynamite casting director Jory Weitz to appear in a documentary about the f-word. (She declined.) Read all about it here.

Just how bored are we as a culture that we think an obscenity deserves documentary treatment? Good grief, you'd think Weitz was talking about global warming or beating baby seals the way he described the earth-shattering implications of the f-word in his letter to Malkin:

Boiler plate - this film will examine the long history of the word, trace its use through time and present all sides of the current and ongoing debate over its use.

OK, I know ... they'll delve into issues such as First Amendment rights, censorship, etc. Yeah, whatever. They also plan to bring in "important personalities" such as Sam Donaldson, Miss Manners and Alanis Morrisette, who I'm sure will be happy to tell us how she liberated female anger when she inserted the f-word in her hit song "You Oughtta Know." I wonder if they'll also interview Beavis and Butthead. ("Huh ... huhuhuhuh ... he said the f-word.")

Let's be honest. Hollywood of late has been delighting in the f-word like a potty-training two-year-old showing us his poo. Or, perhaps I should say like a 13-year-old boy who thinks he's the first one to discover profanity and is gleefully horrifying his parents.

I find it ridiculously boring. Chalk it up to well-fed Westerners to become enraptured with trivia.