For those who haven't heard, George Carlin, renowned funny man, died on Sunday at the age of 71. I've read a few of his books, and watched several of his stand-up specials. Of all the comedians out there, I put him right at the top. He was easily the funniest, cleverest, and most impressive performer in all of comedy.
What I liked most about George was how his humor could be transported across all media. Though he was truly funniest on stage, his albums and books had their own charm. A lot of comedians rely on timing. George just needed a smart crowd. He might have been crass, crude, and sometimes disgusting, but it was all funny. He bent the rules, and in doing so created new ones. He deliberately found the line, crossed it, and pointed out how there probably shouldn't have been a line there in the first place! And all with a smile at the end.
I never met George Carlin, or saw him live, but some of his observations have had small effects on my life. I see certain things he's written or spoken about, and apply some of his skepticism to them. If anything, it makes life a bit more interesting. I've derived quite a bit of my own humor from George.
On my way to class last night I heard a snippet of an interview he did on NPR's "Fresh Air" several years ago:
"In the first world war, that condition was called shell shock. Simple, honest, direct language. Two syllables, shell shock. Almost sounds like the guns themselves. That was seventy years ago. Then a whole generation went by and the second world war came along and very same combat condition was called battle fatigue. Four syllables now. Takes a little longer to say. Doesn't seem to hurt as much. Fatigue is a nicer word than shock. Shell shock! Battle fatigue. Then we had the war in Korea, 1950. Madison Avenue was riding high by that time, and the very same combat condition was called operational exhaustion. Hey, were up to eight syllables now! And the humanity has been squeezed completely out of the phrase. It's totally sterile now. Operational exhaustion. Sounds like something that might happen to your car. Then of course, came the war in Viet Nam, which has only been over for about sixteen or seventeen years, and thanks to the lies and deceits surrounding that war, I guess it's no surprise that the very same condition was called post-traumatic stress disorder. Still eight syllables, but we've added a hyphen! And the pain is completely buried under jargon. Post-traumatic stress disorder. I'll bet you if we'd of still been calling it shell shock, some of those Viet Nam veterans might have gotten the attention they needed at the time. I'll betcha. I'll betcha."
We'll all miss you, George.
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