Monday, June 23, 2008

Sh*t, p*ss, f*ck, c*nt, c*cks*cker, motherf*cker, and t*ts

I loved George Carlin's earlier work. Hearing him lament about finding a place for his stuff or complaining about never getting laid on Thanksgiving (too many coats on the bed, though an erotic romance author would find a way around that) always made me laugh. I likened it to listening to a favorite uncle retelling favorite stories over dinner, and though there was a lot George espoused with which I didn't agree (religion and his apparent disdain for Steely Dan, for two), I enjoyed living in his time, short though it was. He always seemed the type to me that couldn't die, but he did anyway. George didn't believe in God or an afterlife, and no doubt many a pastor is preparing a sermon admonishing him to flames, but I remain optimistic. I tend to waffle between my born faith and agnosticism, but there are days I can't imagine that everything we do now will just end and go black.

I saw Carlin live once at the Florida Theater. Had to have been 15 years ago, because the hubby and I were still dating. The teenager sitting next to M was stoned out of his gourd, heckled the opening act, and passed out the second George came on stage. He remained unconscious until the end when M poked him to move as we were leaving. The kid wakes up and says to us, "That was fucking awesome!" I swear this is a true story, and maybe at some unconscious level the kid really was enjoying himself. Fitting it should happen at a Carlin show as opposed to, say, Carrot Top.

Anyway, wherever you are, George, thanks for the laughs. I hope you are wrong about the afterlife because I wouldn't mind another forecast from the Hippy Dippy Weather Man again. I find it especially interesting to find this Edgar Cayce quote in my inbox this morning:

It is not what one says that counts, but what one is! - Edgar Cayce Reading 524-2

Some people hear the name George Carlin and think about the things he said - his shortening of the Ten Commandments to two, his peculiar habit of saving fingernails and "lip crud" just in case, his aversion to weird sounding foods. Others think about who he was - the man who zigged and challenged courts with freedom of speech issues. He didn't always win, but he made us think. As a writer, I owe men like George a great debt, and not just because I write explicit stories. I also write non-erotica of a religious bent, and can enjoy the right to do so. Just as readers have the right to buy what they wish to read. George may not have been the first person to champion freedom of speech, but he certainly made the fight more interesting.

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