bynkii (bynkii) wrote,
bynkii
bynkii

Good-Bye George...ya fuck

So on 22 June 2008 George Carlin died.
DO WHAT YOU WANT TO THE GIRL, BUT LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
It is...hard to properly describe the influence George had, has, and will continue to have on me. His books made clear one of the central philosophies of my life, in that I have no use for groups, of any kind. If something needs to get done, and a bunch of people get together and do it, then go their separate ways, great. But as soon as you say "Hey, we should keep the group together", get an office and stationary, you're fucked. At that point, the group is important, not the work it does. People, individuals, the ones I've known for decades, or just a few months, those I treasure. But groups? You want the number one cause of misery on this planet, it's a group of people thinking they have the answer. The only thing a group of people are good for, in the end, are suffering and misery.
Baby on Board, child in car, what kind of self-important Yuppie bullshit is that? I see a car with that shit on it, I ram them!
The first time I heard George's work, it was an epiphany. A cynical, sarcastic, obscene epiphany, but an epiphany nonetheless. He shattered my world, and forced me to come to terms with the fact that I could either spend my life behaving the way some group (group!) of idiots wanted me to act, or I could be myself. Lousy asshole, it took me almost twenty years to figure that shit out. But then, figuring out who you are is your job, no one else's. If you're relying on someone else to give your life meaning or validity, stay in bed, get more sleep, you already failed. The only person who can justify your life is you. Everything else is just window dressing. Wonder where I first picked up on the heretical idea that I am only responsible for my own self-esteem, not yours, not yours, and especially not yours? Unca Georgie.
What's next? Do rape victims become involuntary sperm recipients?
George taught me another important lesson: language matters. The words we use, the way we use them, the way we feel about them, that's all important, because words define thought, and thought defines ourselves. It made me realize that all this bullshit around the F(uck)-word, and the other F(ag)-word, and the N(igger)-word, and the B(itch)-word and the C(unt)-word was nothing but a group of people allowing fear to run their lives, and trying to make everyone else conform to that fear, so they don't all feel so fucking stupid. (Gee, what a fucking surprise. Another great example of the common wisdom. Two steps away from running around in packs and eating each other folks, that's all we are, two fucking steps away.) There are people who fear words. Fuck the seven words you can't say on television, we now have words you're not allowed to even say in your own fucking head. Yet no one seems to get the solution to this problem: laughter. Humans, as a species are still in capable of dealing with laughter directed at them. It is a potent weapon, laughter. Look at what people will do to avoid getting laughed at. We all talk about it all the time: "Laughter is the best medicine." "If you can't laugh at yourself..." Yet when it comes to really using that tool, we all run screaming. Here's a challenge for the gay and black people of the U.S., (those of you who are gay and black get to play twice!): The next time y'all are walking down the street, and some fuckmunch starts screaming "Nigger!" or "Fag!" or some combination of the two, instead of getting angry and beating their ass, or yelling at them, or worse yet, lecturing them, just point and laugh. Point and laugh at the complete and utter stupidity and ignorance you're seeing. I mean, the universe just gave you a private showing of the funniest show it has, namely "The Stupid Human Show". To not laugh is like throwing away a front-row ticket to see George. Try it out for a few years. You'll find that even the stupidest racist assholes, who claim to fear no one, will avoid any situation where their intended "victims" react 90° out of sync with what they expect. Laughter, it's potent stuff. George tried to tell us this, too bad so few of us listened.
Symbols are for the symbol-minded
But where was I...oh yes, language. When he talked about how people are trying to remove any possible edges from language, and in doing so, removing all the meaning, like his riff on the progression from "Shell-Shock" to "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder", or on a simpler scale:
Get on the plane, get on the plane! Fuck you! I'm getting IN the plane! Let Evel Knievel get ON the plane, I'll be inside with these other people, as their appears to be a lot less wind.
I mean, it seems simple, but why do we say one thing when we obviously mean another? The "pre" addiction was another example of how we mangle the language, yet achieve nothing useful for our efforts. "Pre-boarding". Just what the fuck does that really mean. I know how it's intended, but it means nothing, unless you're turning yourself into a Klein bottle and getting in the plane before you actually get in the plane. On and on, so on and so forth.

Were it not for George being relentless in pointing out not just how stupid this language mangling is, but how dangerous it is as well, I doubt I'd be as much a fan of using the right word at the right time as I turned out to be.
Have you ever noticed that women who are against abortion are women you wouldn't want to fuck in the first place? There's such balance in nature!
That's the last bit. George was funny, is funny. That line, with his delivery, can still convince me to spew whatever I am eating or drinking through my nose with no hope of resistance. It wasn't just his words either. His facial expressions, the way his eyes and expression and posture were a part of his delivery...mastery man, that was mastery. You see schlubs like Dane Cook prancing all over the stage, that's George 101 there, with some Robin Williams for physical volume.

It was totally unintentional, and I'm sure he'd have rather it not have happened, but starting at the time I first heard "A Place for my Stuff", George became a mentor of sorts for me. He showed me that it was possible to properly cherish the people I know and love, while properly laughing at the bullshit that humans throw up to avoid reality.
Oh beautiful for smoggy skies, insecticided grain. For strip-mined mountains' majesty, above the asphalt plain!
Besides, even though he said he wanted to see humanity circle the bowl lower and faster, he also showed us a way out, hopeless though it is. Our problems are due to the fact that we refuse to see things as they are, and instead have allowed shysters, charlatans, ego, and self-aggrandizement to blind us. Indeed we have insisted on this blindness, sometimes violently. It is that blindness that leads us down the garden path, only we are heading for the fertilizer, not the roses. If we stop the blindness, then maybe we have a chance. But that would require humans to think for themselves, even when it's inconvenient.





nah...


not with this species.

Good-bye George.
You've been listening to the erotic daydreams of an infant worm being sucked backwards through a French milking machine. Stay tuned for "Let's injure Dave".



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