The Aristocrats

(this after watching 60-odd minutes of the movie)
So this guy walks in to an agent's office, nicely dressed, well-shaven, sits down and rests his fedora on his knee. His eyes sparkled. "Listen," he says to the agent, "I've got this fabulous act for you. It played in Peoria. It fairly bloomed in Bentonville. It brought down the house in Branson. Ashcroft and Jimmy Carter came on stage at the end and did a little jig as Amy Grant sang."

The agent, somewhat louche, stubbed out his cigarette on the ratty shag carpeting and said: "Tell me more."

"Well, for starters, it's called the Aristocrats."

"Be gone with ya, we book family acts," said the agent, reaching for his flask, as his Downs Syndrome-afflicted daughter lifted her head up from behind the desk, where she had been sucking his slightly green and shrivelled cock, and wiped from her face the blood spattered on it from jamming a can of WD40 into a orifice in his leg freshly bored by maggots.

"You tell em, pa!"