"MY FRIEND GEORGE THE BLOGGER"

George D. P. Carlin
May 12, 1937 – June 22, 2008
http://georgecarlin.com/

“Hey Bro’, What’s the word? You talkin’ ‘bout My Friend George…”

--Lou Reed

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This is the inaugural entry for my Blog. I had no idea what it would look like when I chose “New” from the Microsoft Word Menu Bar, but I hope you enjoy it.

But Blogging, huh? Hmmm...

I suppose this is the place and time where many, perhaps most new Bloggers go into detail on why they started a Blog, and why reading it routinely would be worth your limited time.

I don’t know. Something about why someone does a Blog to me seems quite self-explanatory; someone feels they’ve got a unique thought, they think they write reasonably well, and hope that people would benefit in at least some small way from knowing it.

Simple.

While on its face that seems innocent enough, I was born in New York City and raised in nearby Westchester and Fairfield County, CT. As a consequence, I am cautious and skeptical, even AFRAID of just about everything in some way--especially people’s motives. You see, I’m a proud disciple of George Carlin--arguably the wisest philosopher of these or any times, and not coincidentally the greatest stand-up comedian since Samson purportedly brought down the Biblical House (get it?). So as with much in life, when it comes to Blogs, I find myself wondering what George Denis Patrick Would Think.

I’m gonna guess and say he’d hate them. Ferociously.

“Blogging? WTF is that? What makes these a----s think anyone gives a s--t about what they have to say?”

He’d probably not only hate the term, but also deride anyone presumptuous enough to write one, and despise anything or anyone that had the least bit to do with them—especially any moron who perpetuated this idiocy by doing little beyond simply and innocently taking 5 minutes to read one (you, in this case, have now not been spared Mr. Carlin’s wrath from beyond).  In fact, I bet he’d view Blogs with the same contempt he had for so much of what man’s up to, and he’d probably view them as an exercise in self-congratulatory, pretentious intellectual exhibitionism.

Did George know how to sum it up, or what?! Oh, man, what would we do without his everlasting wisdom?

It seems to me that Carlin’s brilliance appeals to people because he was in no small part a cynic. He bemoaned with the deepest contempt even those notions that we generally consider to be among the most noble aspects of the human condition—philanthropy, parenthood, patriotism, religion, a belief in God—and appeared especially annoyed that people did not see what he felt was the readily obvious folly of such.

Like I said, George got It. But why, he must have wondered, did the rest of us impose on his tranquility and force him to explain it to us in brutally candid (thus hilarious) terms?

Despite the trappings that came with worldwide celebrity and cult like adoration, it must have been hard once the spotlight went off and his amused, inspired audience spilled momentarily carefree, courtesy of Our Friend George, into the streets and alley ways. We went out for a beer after the show and all felt relieved and empowered that somebody, thank God, saw the world the way we did.

George? He probably went to bed resigned to the lonely notion that very few, if any, could.

Carlin’s commentary on the sad, sorry state and fate of mankind was not almost funny, it was really funny. But for Poor George, as is frequently the case with tortured genius, I bet he hated being alone with his wisdom. Indeed, while he had a platform for exorcising them periodically, his inner demons got the best of him many times in his life--the same demons that made him so, well, lovable and goddamn funny (sorry, God) in the first place.

Hmmm…

Despite the ease with which we can do so, I really believe that few of us want to go through life feeling that people are motivated only by their own interests and are stupid. Oh, I know….there is more than enough, WAY more than enough, reason to believe that they are and that they are. No doubt. But if you listen to Carlin closely, I think you can see that he, like me and perhaps like you, really didn’t want to be so put out by his and his fellow man’s  existence—he just couldn’t, thankfully just wouldn’t, resist the temptation to forcefully address the proverbial elephant in the room.

                       

There were glimpses, especially late in his life, that while uncomfortable with the label, Carlin grew to embrace the notion that he was perhaps a cynic. But in that very obstinate, Carlinian way, he addressed attempts to characterize him as such with a challenge to anyone feeling they had a monopoly on defining the term, or attempting to stereotype him as one:

"I don't consider myself a cynic. I think of myself as a skeptic and a realist. But I understand the word "cynic" has more than one meaning, and I see how I could be seen as cynical. "George, you're cynical." Well, you know, they say if you scratch a cynic you find a disappointed idealist."

Magic. Pure Magic.

While I’m new to Blogging and didn’t know him personally, I think deep inside Carlin would have liked the concept. He might not have said so, of course (especially on stage), but at the very least Blogging would have given him yet one more topical reason to bitch.

Indeed, could not everything My Friend George shared with us be viewed as just like one huge Blog for all us to enjoy, or not enjoy, in a way of our own choosing?

I think so. And I hope you enjoy, or not enjoy, mine.