RIP George Carlin

I just heard that George Carlin died on Sunday.

Well, shit.

Fuck.

Piss, cunt, motherfucker, cocksucker.

Tits.

I first ran into his Seven Words You Can Never Say on TV when I was, oh, twelve or thirteen. At the time, I thought it was the funniest thing ever.

Later, I decided it wasn’t actually all that funny; that the humor came entirely from the fact that you’re not supposed to say those words—in other words, it was an elaborate poop joke.

Still later, I listened to the sketch again, and realized that no, it’s funny even if you’re not shocked by words like “cocksucker”. And while the humor is based on the fact that you’re not supposed to say words like that, it’s more subtle than just a poop joke; it’s more of a commentary on society, and the interaction between the meaning of words and their connotations.

But to hell with that. Here’s a sketch of Carlin’s that’s all about death and heaven:

And finally, let’s thank the sun for the fact that we had Carlin as long as we did. And Joe Pesci, if you’re listening, please make sure he’s not in any discomfort.

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