Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Most of the women who are against abortion are the ones you wouldn't want to fuck in the first place


George Carlin died yesterday and no one is telling any jokes today.

Sure, I see lots of his jokes plastered everywhere, and there are plenty of videos of his old material all over the internet, but I don’t hear anyone telling any new jokes, and that’s what comedy is all about.

A big name like George Carlin takes up a lot of room on the main stage, which is good when it comes to keeping people like Dane Cook from dumbing down more of the masses, but it keeps the next good comedian from coming along and taking the master’s place.

Now that Carlin is dead, someone is going to have to step up and do it.

I’m not saying that I’m a suitable replacement for a guy who produced some of the funniest material in a generation, I don’t have half of his talent or wit, but it doesn’t hurt to try… especially since he’s now too dead to keep us from stealing his material.

There are probably some of you out there in internetland who are thinking about my proposition and saying to yourselves, “Well, I’m not funny like George Carlin” but that’s a bunch of horseshit, because George Carlin wasn’t all that funny either. Sure, he was a great writer, an excellent performer, and a masterful linguist, but his material wasn’t that strong compared with some of the all time, comedy greats like Milton Berle, Jerry Seinfeld, and Groucho Marx – those guys had polished acts.

I’m glad I’m not in America at the moment, because it’s bad enough hearing everyone and their mother talk about how sad it is that George Carlin died. It’s like they spent fifty years watching the guy perform and didn’t hear a damn thing he said.

Yes, George Carlin was a funny motherfucker, I’ll be the first to admit that, and it will also be sad that we won’t get to hear any more of his fantastic material, but that’s nothing to be sad about. If you had gone deaf any time in the last fifty years, you wouldn’t have been able to hear any new George Carlin material either. Plus, there’s a good chance that there’s more George Carlin material out there that you haven’t seen yet, like his short lived Fox sitcom from the early 90s, which means that, just like Tupac Shakur, George Carlin is going to be around a lot longer even after he’s gone, especially when publishers, network suits, media assholes, and marketers find all the little funny notes he wrote on greeting cards or bathroom stalls which they will then repackage and sell to the American people who will line up to buy the definitive, collectors edition, Good Housekeeping approved George Carlin retrospective (All the same albums and books you already own, but it comes in a 12 cent cardboard box with a picture of George on the front).

Then there is his daughter, Kelly Carlin and any grandchildren she might have. All it takes is one creep or scumbag like me to marry, or be born, into that family and suddenly you’ll see George Carlin advertising products like salad dressing, Christian conservative Republican politicians, or amusement parks.

So, there’s no sense in getting sad that George Carlin is gone, because no one will learn anything from his best ideas and there will be another comedian along shortly who can do the same thing equally well, if not better. The best way to honor someone is to carry on their life’s work.

It’s been a while since I sat down and listened to George Carlin’s material, but that’s only because of these cursed rectal polyps.

I forgot how much I emulate his material… and by emulate, I mean steal wholesale.

In the spirit of stealing from George Carlin, I am going to continue that proud tradition even though the great comedian is no longer with us.

Starting with his corpse.

I know, his family will probably want cremate him and sprinkle his ashes in someplace meaningful, but my other comedian corpse is starting to stink and, aside from the giant penis, which I had preserved in formaldehyde, you can barely tell that it was once Milton Berle. I don’t want to do anything strange with George Carlin’s corpse. I just want to decorate my home with it, and eat his brains to absorb his comedy power.

Of course, I want to preserve George Carlin’s corpse with the utmost respect and decency it deserves, which is why I will put it on a rotating pedestal by my front door and attach a motion sensor to the base, so that anytime someone walks into my house, the former comedian will turn to them and say, courtesy of a speaker system and audio player I will install in his chest and mouth, the various catch phrases and jokes that made him famous like Yabba Dabba Doo!!!, Where’s the Beef?, and Sock it to me.

Okay, so maybe George Carlin didn’t change the world, and, just like the man said, it would arrogant to assume that any one human, or even all of us working together, ever could, but, when he left, he vacated a sizeable gap, like when a huge tree falls in the rain forest. Now it’s up to us lichens and parasites to suck the rest of the nutrients out of his legacy while there’s still time.

In another two years, you’ll see his computerized image selling toasters for Best Buy.

Sex Mahoney for President


Currently listening to:

A Place for My Stuff
by George Carlin
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