So what are they called???

Taken from Salon.com

"The Aristocrats," Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette's exhilarating documentary about the genesis and continual evolution of one very dirty joke, is less about free speech than about the freedom of speech. And viewing it as a manifesto only detracts from its indelicate, yet delicately calibrated, brilliance. It doesn't matter that AMC has opted not to run the movie in its theaters: That's not censorship but a business decision. (Everyone has the constitutional right to be a numbnuts.) Nor is it particularly meaningful that conservative critic Michael Medved has sniffed derisively at the picture, like a dog who thinks it's above the smell of its own shit. The inherent offensiveness of the joke itself (more on this later) is the controversial sticking point. But the picture itself is so ebullient and celebratory that it practically beams with perverted innocence. It also moves with an acrobat's timing. (I've seen French art house movies that aren't nearly so beautifully made.) All of this is a roundabout way of saying that unlike Medved, I know art when I smell it, and "The Aristocrats" is it.

OK.
Can't wait to see it