Go ahead. Laugh at the media.

I’m with you.

To me, there are few occasions in life more hilarious than watching us collectively turn into Dr. Frankenstein, conducting highly public damage control and trying to corral a monster we flagrantly created.

Meet this week’s monster, Jeremy Shockey of the New York Giants.

Shockey is the poster child for an industry (yes, because most sports writers obsessively listen to talk radio around the clock, I reluctantly must group them together) that rewards athletes for potential and propensity to spout off more than actual accomplishment.

He’s a punk and knows it. He makes a riotous living posing as some sort of amalgam of Eminem, Kid Rock and Mark Gastineau while trying to perfect the same position, tight end, as similarly self-loving Mike Ditka and Todd Christensen.

It works with the blessing of an unwitting media, particularly those cashing their checks within a two-hour radius of East Rutherford, N.J.

New York’s ink-stained wretches and the four-letter broadcasting monolith in Bristol, Conn., have plenty of legitimate column and feature fodder going through the motions in Giants camp.

There’s Tiki Barber, the running back second only to Frank Gifford in Giants’ all-time, all-purpose yards, or Michael Strahan, a pass rusher who eats quarterbacks for breakfast.

Kerry Collins, the NFL’s most underrated passer, is also a Giant as well as a reformed punk himself.

Good stories, all, but not nearly titillating enough.

So we’re stuck witnessing every waking moment of a one-year wonder (so far) who scored, count ’em, two touchdowns last season and completely disappeared in the second half of the second-worst collapse in playoff history.

Now that Shockey has been quoted referring to Dallas Cowboys head coach Bill Parcells as a “homo” in New York magazine, we’ll be subjected to the usual righteous indignation from the peanut gallery.

You’ll witness broadcasters using their “serious” face and tone of voice when discussing Shockey’s alleged epithet.

You’ll read columnists calling for a fine or suspension, somehow drawing a parallel from Shockey to John Rocker, another overblown athlete who gained his infamy from stupid words uttered within earshot of a reporter.

And yes, you’ll hear and see the self-appointed sports thought police dip into the word well, come up dry and settle for labeling Shockey a “punk.” I almost hesitated to use that label myself, except that: a) it fits; and b) at least I’m not a Giants beat writer with a year’s worth of flowery superlatives to undo in one column.

Besides, it’s tough to write coherently when you’re busy busting a gut.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not laughing at Shockey’s supposed choice of words. It’s an offensive term. Shockey sounds like a third-grader, an ignorant one at that, if he said it.

It is a tad amusing, however, that Parcells was the target. This is the same coach who labeled receiver Terry Glenn “she” during a press conference when he coached the New England Patriots.

Does anyone doubt that most coaches from Parcells’ era have derisively questioned players’ sexual orientation as a means of “motivating” them? That’s precisely the reason you probably won’t hear Parcells comment specifically on this issue. He wouldn’t particularly care to have the micro-cassette recording of his career played for public consumption.

That makes former ESPN analyst Parcells smarter than most of his more experienced brethren in the media.

He won’t try to retract anything he said about Shockey last season.

On the contrary, just about everyone else within reach of a keyboard or camera will spend the next week doing so.

They’ll look and sound like idiots.

Thankfully, though, not quite as dumb as Jeremy Shockey.

Kalle Oakes is sports editor. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].