I’m always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I’m listening to it.
–George Carlin
The first thing I heard when I woke up this morning and turned on the TV for the news was that George Carlin had died. While his dead is not as shocking as Tim Russert’s, I was surprised. Carlin struck me as too cantankerous to die–at least anytime soon. He was still performing in Vegas as late as last weekend, for chrissake. Complaining of chest pains, the 71-year-old Carlin was brought to the Santa Monica Hospital where he died of a heart attack.
Carlin started out as a suit-and-tie comedian, performing on such exalted shows as Ed Sullivan, Jack Paar and The Tonight Show. He shed his variety show persona in the ’70s when he dropped out, grew a beard and started doing drugs. His “7 Words You Can’t Say on TV.”
When Carlin wasn’t busy being profane, he was often profound, or both at the same time–and almost always funny. I don’t know how fitting a tribute this is, but I’d been reading his book Brain Droppings as a throne room selection. As I writer, I particularly appreciate his take on the mangling of the English language by folks who know nothing about it.
Carlin was scheduled to win the 2008 Mark Twain prize for American Humor to be handed out in November by the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
I’m not going to mourn Carlin. I can imagine what he’d say about wakes and funerals and the like. Mourning is bullshit. There’s even a bit on his website about the passing of celebrities. So I won’t contribute to the hoopla. But I will miss his wit and his insight.
