Words Are All We Have, Really.

I love words. I thank you for hearing my words. I wanna tell you something about words that we think is important. As I say they're my work, they're my play, they're my passion. Words are all we have, really...

With this collection of, well, words, George Carlin began his most well-known monologue, the infamous 'Seven Dirty Words That You Can Never Say On Television', a routine that has had implications far and wide both legally and comedically. While those seven words (and we will come back to them in a second) are the most famous Carlin ever uttered, the album from which they originally come, Class Clown, may be one of the most perfect collections of monologues ever put to acetate. From the very beginning of the album (People always want to know how you get started in this job... they say to you 'Did you always want to be a comedian?' 'Well, not in the womb, no, but right after that, yes') to it's very last comment on those dirty seven words Carlin is goofy, zany, biting, witty, engaging, along with pretty much every other quality that one could possibly want out of a comedian. The one thing Carlin isn't on Class Clown is the one thing he would eventually become known for, which is his anger. While Carlin wasn't the first angry comedian, he was the proto-typical one, and you hear this influence in comedians ranging from Patton Oswalt to Lewis Black to David Cross, almost as you hear the influence of Lenny Bruce on much of Carlin's early Seventies work. To be honest, his righteous anger is hysterical, and there's a really, really good reason it's influential. BUT...
Class Clown is better. While much of his later work relied mostly on criticism, on shock value, Class Clown sounds like it was written by a comedian who had developed a sense of the absurdity of life without letting himself become discouraged, a comedian who could still take pleasure in the presence of the fake dog crap in the window or the simple enjoyment of cracking one's knuckles for the entertainment of others. Even those routines that make up the latter half of the album, routines that would have sounded bitter later in his career, sound joyful. The track right before the seven dirty words is "Muhammad Ali - America the Beautiful" and although he is clearly concerned, and perhaps angry, Carlin isn't cynical. He sings, literally sings, a parody of America the Beautiful that transforms ' purple mountains majesty on the fruited plane' into 'strip mined mountains majesty upon the asphalt plane' immediately after delivering his take on war that sounds like the War in Iraq, except that it isn't. It's Vietnam. But he isn't bitter. Not yet. Class Clown celebrates the absurdities of life rather than railing against them, and this is what is brilliant about George Carlin, why he will be remembered long after his unfortunate and untimely death. He meant a lot to me, and to people like me, not only because of what he taught us about celebrating life but what he taught us about ourselves. To me, the Seven Dirty words were never just a monologue, never just a brilliant routine. It was a manifesto. Much of what I believe, much of what is important to me, is important to me because of that monologue. I believe in complete freedom of language and complete freedom of thought because of what Carlin tells us about words in those seven minutes of pure comedy genius. It didn't make sense to me at the age of 14, just as it doesn't make sense to me today, that people are offended by words rather ideas. This is the most important idea that humanity has ever stumbled upon, and it was popularized by a comedian, or perhaps simply a funny philosopher.
When I write, I live by one rule and one rule only: 'There are no bad words'. If anything, that is why I will remember George Carlin. That is why we should remember George Carlin. Everything else is just hysterical details. This is what is ultimately important. Why? Because words are all we have, really.


We'll miss you, George.