A Seven-Word Memoir for George Carlin
Monday, June 23rd, 2008
Carlin’s short, short life story can only be these seven words: Fuck. Shit. Piss. Cunt. Cocksucker. Motherfucker. Tits.
My folks, to their considerable credit, took me to see George Carlin perform when I was, at best, 12 years old. Unforgettable. Later, at a stand-up comedy class I took, I performed his “A place for my stuff” routine (”that’s the whole meaning of life, isn’t it? Trying to find a place for your stuff”), a big favorite of my family (we’re hoarders). Watch a young Carlin perform his famous seven dirty words bit for old-time’s sake. He was my favorite comic. I’ll miss him.
The dirty patron saint of funny Irish Catholics.
He got to go out having just won a big prize, still at the top of his game. A role model to the end.
The perfect tribute. He was my favorite, too.
I hope they let those words be engraved on his tombstone, should he have one. R.I.P.
What a guy!!! He took American life by the jugular and squeezed laughter out of it’s idiosyncrasies.