Disclaimer: All examples herein are rhetorical, legal hypotheticals used to explore the boundaries of First Amendment law. No threats are being made. I have better things to do than go to jail for being misunderstood by Agent Dickface.

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Introduction

1. This Isn’t a Threat; It’s Just a Book

To all law enforcement entities:

Please be advised that the author is a legally confused clown with a flair for existentialism and no access to actual weaponry. The author contrived to get this book flagged and now apologizes profusely for wasting your invaluable time. Proceed with pity.

To the rest of my readers:

This book is a purely intellectual exercise on the limits of free speech and expression. No part of this book should be construed as a threat or else I will see you tomorrow. With a shovel. For gardening.

2. So What’s the Point?

So what’s the point of this book—besides giving me an excuse to spew forth profanity? Well, my sweet child of foul-mouthed jurisprudence, there are just three important lessons to learn as you trudge through more than a century of SCOTUS cases, judicial opinions, and legal precedents.

The first moral of this book is the importance of tone, delivery, and context. That is, when, where, and how you say something matters just as much, if not more, than what you say. So as you peruse this book, which is pretty much a First Amendment/con law textbook disguised in an obnoxious clown suit, keep these things in mind.

Next in line are the (arguably) legitimate governmental restrictions on your speech and expression. If you understand the justifications that Congress and SCOTUS use to censor you, then you stand a chance to mouth off at bureaucratic wankers, judicial masturbators, the President him- (or her-) self, and that one uncle who deserves your verbal asskicking.

Finally, and now that you are legally informed, I—along with a precariously wobbling civilization known as the United States of America—depend on your cojones if the nation is to survive as a bastion of freedom. All the legal knowledge you have will be useless if you have no First Amendment balls.

You must challenge stupidity with the verbal jiujitsu of tone, delivery, and context. You must understand the silly limitations imposed on your speech and expression by the judiciary. You must defy the arbitrary and unconstitutional bag of dicks that threaten to gag not just you—but everyone else—in the volatile political climate of this goddamned Republic. Well, at least I hope you will.

Tone, Delivery, and Context

Let’s consider this sentence:

“I hope he disappears.”

Who is he? Your ex? A public figure? A fictional character? Your will to live? Without tone, delivery, and context, this is no clearer than a fortune cookie. But now try this one:

“I hope he disappears into a warm cave, never to be seen again, unless he reemerges a better person with a certificate of emotional growth signed by a forest spirit.”

See? Now it’s arguably a weird and disturbing fable. Arguably.

Now consider this gem:

“I’m going to destroy you.”

Say it while smiling at someone across a candlelit dinner and you might get laid. Say it while holding a rock outside a courthouse and you’re going to jail. Say it inside a book about free speech and you’re probably getting the book flagged, and if so, hello and welcome. You’re one of us now.

Thus, tone, delivery, and context determine whether your speech is performance art or a reason for Agent Dickface to surveil your Venmo history. And if you get good at walking this tightrope, you can get your performance art flagged and force Agent Dickface to read your shit, at which point they will take off their glasses, rub their temple, and sigh.

Case in point: “I’m going to kill Donald Trump, who isn’t my president.”

That’s almost never protected speech, as it is a threat and also possibly an incitement to violence.

But let’s modify this example:

“I’m going to kill Donald Trump, who isn’t my president. In fact, ‘Donald Trump’ refers to any one of the mosquitoes, flies, and cockroaches that infest my home. So all you wankers have to pay attention to what the definition of ‘Donald Trump’ is. Because in this context, ‘Donald Trump’ certainly does not denote my president.”

In this metaphor, “Donald Trump” is simply my house pest problem. I am only advocating for the responsible extermination of insects—albeit with great passion and suspicious levels of joy. If you choose to interpret this as a threat to a real person, that’s on you.

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📢 Before you start yelling “I’m gonna ice Orange Fuckface,” read about dumbfuck government restrictions on speech and expression plus loopholes you can exploit in Part 2.