The Griffin family characters from “The Family Guy,” from left, Brian, Lois, Peter, Stewie, Brian and Meg are shown.

NEW YORK — All 13-year-old boys are on board with “Family Guy.” They love this show, and no wonder. It’s silly, subversive and caters to a 13-year-old boy’s endless craving for humor about bodily emissions.

Among this particular demo, the fact that “Family Guy” is also breathtakingly smart is just a bonus (or even beside the point). But the deft blend of the ingenious with the raw helps account for its much broader appeal, as it taps into every viewer’s inner 13-year-old boy — which, whatever your age and gender, is the easiest point of entry into the show’s garden of delights. (This Fox animated series airs at 9 p.m. Sundays, as well as on TBS and Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim.)

As a “Family Guy” fan who’s long past preadolescence, I crack up watching it. I cringe. I ask myself, How do they come up with this stuff? And I find I’m in synch with it to a degree I might prefer not acknowledging in polite company.

No room here on “Family Guy” for niceties. So I give its excesses a pass. I embrace its wicked randomness. I feel grateful from the bottom of my inner 13-year-old boy’s heart.

Item: Here’s God as a bearded, white-robed ladies man hitting on a girl at a bar. He lights her cigarette with a bolt of lightning. “Magic fingers,” he purrs. But then, to his chagrin, an inadvertent second bolt of lightning incinerates her. He summons his son Jesus (“Get the Escalade, we’re outta here!”) and makes a fast exit.

A little less provocative is a spoof of the farewell scene from “The Wizard of Oz”: Dorothy ticks off the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion when she tells the Scarecrow, “I think I’ll miss YOU most of all.”

“Sort of a weird comment,” mutters the Lion indignantly, “right in front of all of us.”

These are examples of the cutaway sight gags and comic asides booby-trapping “Family Guy,” making each episode’s story line feel hyperlinked to out-of-nowhere bits of foolishness. (Cookie Monster in an asylum battling his cookie addiction. Dick Cheney as a foul-mouthed greeter at Wal-Mart.)

But through it all, the basic setting is the Peter Griffin homestead in Quahog, R.I.

Peter is a cheery, melon-bellied dolt. He is married to randy redhead Lois, a closet kook who indulges Peter’s almost limitless shortcomings.

Teenage son Chris is not only slovenly and overweight, but, by every indication, mentally disabled. Dowdy daughter Meg hates herself (her parents hate her more).

Stewie is a pint-sized megalomanic, raging at humanity with an aristocrat’s haughtiness. (“Fie on your toilet!” the diapered toddler blasts his elders on the issue of potty-training — “it’s made slaves of you all!”)

The only character who can hear Stewie is Brian, the Griffins’ dog, who stands upright, speaks several languages, reads the paper and likes his martinis dry. He has an unrequited lust for Lois, but otherwise, his tastes are of those of a sophisticate.

Parts of “Family Guy” are simply brilliant. A near minutelong, wordless interlude where Peter struggles to dispose of a dead bullfrog has the artistry of Chaplin.

Like so much of “Family Guy,” it’s rude, crude and deliciously wrong.