Since this is my blog I have a confession - something I seriously have never confessed to my parents, my wife, or anyone other than three people I can think of. -Deep breath- Here we go: The first time I was ever published was at 12-years-old in issue No. 3 of "Bill and Ted's Excellent Comic Book."
Please keep in mind I was 12 and reading any comic I could get my hands on - The Punisher, a ton of X titles, Image comics (I'm still not proud of that), Deadpool and some other truly awful stuff. But Bill and Ted, that was something I think I considered a guilty pleasure before the idea of guilt really sunk in. My issue, yellowing as we speak somewhere in my garage, asked a simple question of the Bill and Ted writers: Why haven't you given me more George Carlin.
In the two Bill and Ted movies, Carlin played Rufus, the guide to Reeves and Winters as they traveled back and forward in time. It was a small role, and one that didn't lead to bigger roles as it should have, but he was great at it and even at a young age, I was interested in the guy. A year later I turned 13, bootlegged a copy of "Back in Town," picked my brain up off the floor after having it blown out the back of my head and have unconditionally loved George Carlin ever since.
I've loved him through his ill-conceived sitcom. I loved him when he released "Back In Town," in my opinion the greatest single stand-up performance ever recorded. I've loved him through Jersey Girl. I've loved him through three lackluster HBO specials after his wife's death in 1998. And now, it's with great pleasure I can confidently proclaim I loved him before "It's Bad For Ya," his latest HBO special recorded a couple weeks ago when Mr. Carlin had just celebrated his 70th birthday. And I love him after hearing the HBO special, which is his best since "Back in Town."
I read some reviews that contend stand-up comics are a miserable lot by nature and a case could definitely be made that this is Carlin's reflection on coming to grips with his impending death and the death of those around him. One review said many of the jokes, like Carlin's riff on how long after someone dies to delete them from your digital address book, are tinged with sadness. I don't see it that way at all. Carlin spends a good part of the first third of "It's Bad For Ya" establishing the fact that he feels and is comfortable with the idea of not really being a human being. He phrases it as "removing yourself" from the human race, but he doesn't do it in a manner that elicits sadness, and it's not quite matter of fact - it might be celebratory.
All his macabre material - the piece about the advantages of being an old man, how to get funeral mourners to paint your garage, why he doubts people in heaven have time to smile down on earth - are all played exactly the same as if he were riffing on the English language. He doesn't flinch because I don't think the material makes him flinch. This is the work of a man severely at ease as an outsider in winter, a disaffected intellectual on the precipice of nothing.
It's that ease that made me smile more than anything. It doesn't hurt that Carlin is in his element on stage, and the stage actually looks a lot like I imagine his office does - cluttered, full of book sand with several well worn pieces of equipment strewn throughout. The guy dressed for the show in sweat pants for God's sake. Comfortable is an adjective that appropriately describes Carlin at 70.
But don't mistake "Comfortable" for "slacking." He's as sharp as he ever was, especially on religion which he attacks with new aplomb. I could go on for much longer about the show itself, but it's better you watch it for yourself. If you go to Youtube, you can find the whole special, and I can think of only five or six better ways on the planet to spend an hour than watching Carlin go at it.
Please keep in mind I was 12 and reading any comic I could get my hands on - The Punisher, a ton of X titles, Image comics (I'm still not proud of that), Deadpool and some other truly awful stuff. But Bill and Ted, that was something I think I considered a guilty pleasure before the idea of guilt really sunk in. My issue, yellowing as we speak somewhere in my garage, asked a simple question of the Bill and Ted writers: Why haven't you given me more George Carlin.
In the two Bill and Ted movies, Carlin played Rufus, the guide to Reeves and Winters as they traveled back and forward in time. It was a small role, and one that didn't lead to bigger roles as it should have, but he was great at it and even at a young age, I was interested in the guy. A year later I turned 13, bootlegged a copy of "Back in Town," picked my brain up off the floor after having it blown out the back of my head and have unconditionally loved George Carlin ever since.
I've loved him through his ill-conceived sitcom. I loved him when he released "Back In Town," in my opinion the greatest single stand-up performance ever recorded. I've loved him through Jersey Girl. I've loved him through three lackluster HBO specials after his wife's death in 1998. And now, it's with great pleasure I can confidently proclaim I loved him before "It's Bad For Ya," his latest HBO special recorded a couple weeks ago when Mr. Carlin had just celebrated his 70th birthday. And I love him after hearing the HBO special, which is his best since "Back in Town."
I read some reviews that contend stand-up comics are a miserable lot by nature and a case could definitely be made that this is Carlin's reflection on coming to grips with his impending death and the death of those around him. One review said many of the jokes, like Carlin's riff on how long after someone dies to delete them from your digital address book, are tinged with sadness. I don't see it that way at all. Carlin spends a good part of the first third of "It's Bad For Ya" establishing the fact that he feels and is comfortable with the idea of not really being a human being. He phrases it as "removing yourself" from the human race, but he doesn't do it in a manner that elicits sadness, and it's not quite matter of fact - it might be celebratory.
All his macabre material - the piece about the advantages of being an old man, how to get funeral mourners to paint your garage, why he doubts people in heaven have time to smile down on earth - are all played exactly the same as if he were riffing on the English language. He doesn't flinch because I don't think the material makes him flinch. This is the work of a man severely at ease as an outsider in winter, a disaffected intellectual on the precipice of nothing.
It's that ease that made me smile more than anything. It doesn't hurt that Carlin is in his element on stage, and the stage actually looks a lot like I imagine his office does - cluttered, full of book sand with several well worn pieces of equipment strewn throughout. The guy dressed for the show in sweat pants for God's sake. Comfortable is an adjective that appropriately describes Carlin at 70.
But don't mistake "Comfortable" for "slacking." He's as sharp as he ever was, especially on religion which he attacks with new aplomb. I could go on for much longer about the show itself, but it's better you watch it for yourself. If you go to Youtube, you can find the whole special, and I can think of only five or six better ways on the planet to spend an hour than watching Carlin go at it.
He certainly continues to make me smile, even if he's the subject of my secret Bill and Ted shame. I love the guy and have for a long time. I don't see that going away any time soon.
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