Thursday, June 26, 2008

More upset than I can say

I hate to lose George Carlin before I got to see a live set.

I'll put more up on Only Maybe, but for those who don't understand the power of words over your sensibilities - don't even go there. Or his website...

I really thought Lenny Bruce had worked a lot harder than D.H. Lawrence to show people that words can never hurt them. Henry Miller did a lot - but once the hardline, radical feminists trashed his reputation (not seeming to see how he and Anais had worked to liberate the world from prudery) all his good work, all his wonderfully humorous, humane and liberating work has faded away. Shame. After all, Erica Jong seemed to think he had something to contribute (Henry, I mean).

And now the puritans and prudes will only remember George for his Seven Words you can't say on television (as they snigger and gasp away).

People come and people go, and most people still let Words upset them, even if their childhood rang to

Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me...

Bye, George! Rock on! (What a shame the UK never heard of you, and I never got to a live gig). I hope you and Bill Hicks and Lenny Bruce and Robert Anton Wilson, and Timothy Leary have a great time mind-melding in the bardos...

And forget the rude words (OK, OK, a couple of 'shits') - in this greedy Western world of object-fetishism, try five minutes of the comedy genius on:

A Place For My Stuff

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