George Carlin is one of those people I credit with saving my life. First when I was ten and replayed Carlin At Carnegie over and over in my mind on nights when I couldn't sleep, and then again and again over the years, counseling me on the idiots and maniacs on the road, my stuff, the weather, politics, religion, sports, dusting, pets, and even making Nan and I laugh for the first time after we lost Uncle Gene and Aunt Bubbles this spring. I'm not exaggerating, if not for his humor brightening my darker corners, someone would have taken a flamethrower to me years ago.
HBO is playing his stand-up specials, and Saturday Night Live is going to have a tribute of their own next weekend, and I can only hope some young kid sees this man with his funny way with words and realize that somehow it'll all be okay, even the disappointed idealists have a place in the world.
Of course, thanks to the Internet, nobody has to wait around for TV to learn the differences between cats and dogs.
RIP, Mr. Carlin, thanks for the laughs, and thanks for making my brain want to stay in my head.
Monday, June 23, 2008
My Words Are Inadequate.
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