Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits

George Carlin died yesterday. Like most deaths, it was inevitable. It also fucking sucks.

I got to see him live in 1995 at Bally's in Vegas when my parents offered to take my sister and I to Vegas for a family vacation the year I turned 21. (I was quite the little gambling addict when I was younger. And that's all I'll say about that.)

They offered to take me to one show as my actual birthday gift and out of all the shows available in all of Vegas, I picked George Carlin.

As we were sitting in the theatre, enjoying our two-drink minimum, and he launched into his “101 Words for Dicks” routine, and I saw my dad's jaw drop and my mom's face go ashen, I thought, “hmmm, maybe this wasn't such a great idea.” But then I thought, “Ah, fuckit! This is fucking as awesome as it gets! I'm seeing George Carlin. Live. In Vegas. With a two-drink minimum!”

Carlin probably had the ability to cut through the hypocrisy and bullshit of our society like no one else I can think of (Bill Hicks? Kurt Vonnegut? Hunter S. Thompson? All close but I'd say Carlin beats them all.)

So much of my own worldview, my own sense of questioning everything and sarcasm comes from listening to him.

I also love that so
much of Carlin's material focuses on language – how we use it and abuse
it. (“Why do we park in driveways and drive on parkways?” being a very tame example of this.)

There's also probably a direct connection between my interest in
freedom of speech/freedom to read issues and the seven words that give
the title to today's post.

MetaFilter has a good thread about his passing (er, there's a euphemism that Carlin would hate. His DYING. His DEATH) which leads to a thread with links to all of his full-length comedy performances.

See also:
George Carlin on WikiQuotes, YouTube and Wikipedia.

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