Among all the great men, only one could make me feel pride about living in New Jersey–Mr. George Carlin. The comic master taught me a lot more than the seven dirty words; he taught me when to say them, too. Hint: not in front of Mom.
His observations were biting, humorous and painfully true.
” . . . we’re going to ban the toy guns, and keep the F-ing real ones . . . ”
” . . . Next time you civil war buffs reenact the battle of Gettysburg, do us all a favor. Use real ammunition! . . .”
” . . . I would like to be Pope, because they can pick their name. I’d be Pope Corky the 23rd . . . ”
He will be missed….
What other comic has ever commanded such talents? Entertained with such vulgarity and intelligence?
And what other man would dare explore the unspeakable topics we usually only dare discuss in our living room, with such unflinching precision?
Godspeed, George. Godspeed.