George Carlin: The Class Clown Has Left the Building

I have few heroes. People are just people--flawed and extremely imperfect. We are all thrown here without a roadmap minus any notion of why we exist and where we are headed. Life is pretty much a crapshoot--some of us are just luckier than others. So I merely live my life doing the best I can, not pretending to know what it's all about, just playing the game and appreciating those who make the ride a little more enjoyable.

When I am asked which individual has had the greatest influence on my writing, I immediately respond George Carlin. And it is with more than a bit of irony that I would compose a "serious" piece on the man whose style of wit has so evidently weaved its way into my writing. But that's what happens when one of your heroes ceases to exist; it is hard to "think funny."

I first became aware of Carlin in the early 70s. I was in my teens--an age of discovery for most males--and what I had discovered in Carlin was a voice willing to speak the obvious when the obvious was not said. He spoke openly about sex, drugs, religion and our society's collective "stick-up-the-ass" attitude. Carlin loved to push the edge of the envelope and his classic piece in which he told us the Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television broke new ground, causing waves among those who want to protect us from ourselves.

As funny as he was, it was Carlin's attitude that I most admired. He often said that he did not deal in absolutes. There was no black and white, up and down, left and right. There were no answers, only questions. He laughed at those who never gave up hope in what he viewed as a hopeless world. And that is why it was so easy for Carlin to make fun of the ones who claimed to have all the answers. It was those individuals or organizations that he most enjoyed zapping. Religion, the government and American society in general were all favorite targets. As craziness unfolded on this globe, Carlin thought of himself as an amused observer, on the outside looking in.