I think most anyone who would care already knows that George Carlin died a few weeks ago. I meant to do a post the day it happened, but (as these things often do) I never quite got around to it. And then it seemed like the moment had passed. But two things changed my mind.
The first reason is pretty simple: I’ve been going back and listening to his stuff on and off over these couple weeks and it’s reminded me of just how funny, insightful, and interesting an artist he really was. More than almost anyone else, Carlin bridged the gap between comedy and music. Listening to his stand-up was often a pleasure not necessarily because what he was saying was “funny” in any strict sense, but more because of the he used rhythm, meter, and intonation to suck you in.
The second is a little more spiteful. Put simply, I’ve read or heard a lot of folks discussing his legacy who seem to have completely and utterly missed the point. These people inevitably open with a reference to the “seven words” and then use that as a segue into a Lenny Bruce reference, immediately pigeon-holing Carlin as a guy whose primary interest was to shock the audience. Occasionally, they’ll abandon that line long enough to point out that Carlin was also an innovator in the line of observational humor (the “did you ever notice…” sort of stuff). And maybe, just maybe, they’ll (incorrectly) label him a “staunch atheist.” Finally, they’ll say something like “sure, he was a pioneer, but I just never found him that funny.”
Now, humor is one of the most subjective things in the world, so far be it from me to argue about what another person ought to find funny. But still…if we’re going to be writing elegies and talking about a man’s entire life works, shouldn’t we dig a little deeper than 4 or 5 bits from a career that featured over a dozen HBO specials, tons of albums and books, and literally thousands of stand-up appearances?
Take the atheism thing. Yes, in the later years, he took a very hard line on the non-existence of God. In particular, his bit from 1999’s You Are All Diseased remains one of the definitive takedowns of the founding principles of religion, all the more powerful for its directness and wide-eyed glee:
There Is No God – George Carlin
But, like most brilliant people, Carlin didn’t emerge at this place out of nowhere. This bit is far more interesting, far funnier, far more touching if you know about his past work. Take 1972’s classic Class Clown for example, which deals extensively with his formative years, growing up in an Irish-Catholic family. It’s a much gentler, more whimsical Carlin, but it’s clearly the same guy. And it reveals a common theme that runs through all of his work: his interest in finding ways of bringing into light those things which we really ought to have seen for ourselves.
I Used to Be Irish Catholic – George Carlin
The joke is not just in the revelation (“oh yeah, that does happen all the time doesn’t it?”), but also in the way it inspires immediate self-reflection. What Carlin did better than anyone was provide constant digs at how people trick themselves in the most subtle of ways to not see the obvious. Or, to paraphrase one of his lines: he just tells us stuff we already knew but hadn’t gotten around to noticing yet. This is really a very delicate thing, and I think Carlin’s real genius was in his ability to poke fun at those of us who were listening, without it ever feeling malicious. We could share in the joke, even as we feel just a bit of discomfort.
Of course not every bit will work for everyone – no one is funny all the time – but I think people who never really “got” him ought to give it another chance. Explore some of the less well known stuff. Borrow a copy of Class Clown (you have at least three friends who own it, I guarantee), check out one of his HBO shows from your local library, or even just on google video. Jammin’ in New York would be a great place to start. His opening bit from that act on the Gulf War is startling for the way it feels immediate and retains its bite.
So he’s gone now, but I hope that this means a few new folks will discover his work and get some joy out of it. As for Carlin himself, I don’t think I could put my feelings any better than Joshua Mann did in an article for Slate:
He certainly would not want us to think of him smiling down on us from the clouds. If we want to imagine where, precisely, George Carlin has gone, we’d do better to recall what he told us in a line from one of his first HBO specials, back in 1978: “I think when you die your soul goes to a garage in Buffalo.”
Or, to put it another way: so long, and thanks for all the laughs, George.