Wisdom Through Filth: A Carlin Tribute by Hawke Culbertson on 6.27.08
In a 40th anniversary celebration of George Carlin’s work, John Stewart spoke one of performance’s foundational truths, “There are two things that comedians of all stripes have in common…a belief that someone that is not as funny as they are is doing better than they are…and…a sincere love and respect for George Carlin and his work. He is a member of our Holy Trinity...” The venomous aftertaste to Stewart’s script is that, like the religious figures he was so oft to mock, our last great funny man exists now only in his remnants left in our praising hands. George Carlin lost his life to heart failure this Sunday, June 22nd, 2008, at a Santa Monica Hospital, he was seventy-one. It’s hard to believe stand-up comedy existed before him, and it’s even harder to conjure up its future after him.
He was the greatest living comedian, and it goes without second thought that his crown will be given, by default, to someone less deserving of it. He was a wordsmith beyond compare, his love of language and its multiple meanings garnered some of the greatest performance pieces ever to be recorded, from his famous “Seven Words (You Can’t Say on Television),” to lesser known riffs like “Advertising” and “I’m a Modern Man.” He will be remembered both as his calm, meandering 1970s Hippie persona, who made riffing on the “little things” a stand-up staple; and his self-proclaimed “Old Fuck” rabble-rouser, pointing out life’s comedy, whether we liked it or not.
We came to Carlin a society defeated by its own lifestyle, freebasing escapism from his stories and musings. Somehow, listening to him made the bad things go away; a profane comfort blanket we groped for when old wives’ tales and religion gave no answers. Carlin, a prodigy of Lenny Bruce, went further than his mentor in his exploration, and defense, of free speech. He said what was vulgar, demented, and offensive, because it was what we all wanted to say, but didn’t have the mike to speak from. He martyred himself for his beliefs in his Supreme Court case, and always stood for telling what was right before telling what we wanted to hear. He acted as a pillar for rational and logical thinking (save for creating outlandish relieves to society’s many woes) especially with subjects of extreme taboo, a flagship Atheist and disbeliever in all parts of religion. We laughed with his observations, even when the microscope was turned to us, because he was the cure to stress, laughing at life now so it won’t make us cry later. He was, as he constantly pointed out to us, the Class Clown, making Math Class tolerable even if it meant detention.
George Carlin left a legacy of comedy impossible to rival. He will forever act as a guide and inspiration for anyone wanting to make others laugh with their words, and will be remembered as a God in the world of Comedy. We cannot expect him to be in Heaven, he pointed out the impossibility of it existing years ago; but it doesn’t seem against his doctrines to imagine him in a better place: full of ironic delights, like attractive feminists lining up to blow him or constant news cycles of people committing stupidities that will later act as warning labels. It is our greatest hope and wish that, wherever the bastard wound up, there is an audience waiting to hear him when he gets pissed off.
Carlin is survived by his two daughters, his wife, the ashy remains of millions of rightfully denounced faiths, and a portfolio of unequaled excellence.
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