The comedian George Carlin died recently and in a "funny"
way, he’s been an important part of my life for a long time—
kind of "haunting" it with laughter.
Carlin was about the power of words—something that writers
WANT to believe in, but don't really. Most of the time, people
ignore what you write. They may compliment you (or more
often they don't), but then they move on, your words falling
away like water off a duck's back.
But what Carlin said and wrote mattered, because he made
people MAD. He made them question their assumptions and
beliefs and smug, complacent people don't like to do that.
Just being able to listen to him on HBO was a lifesaver for me,
in the days when I was confronting the aggressive Christian
fundamentalists of San Antonio, Texas.
Then Carlin actually APPEARED in San Antonio. I rushed to
get tickets, of course, but I worried about what would
happen in the theater—riots? Suicide bombings? I was
surprised to see that the place was packed with
other "secret" rebels, but there was only one small incident:
Carlin threw a couple of hecklers out of the audience. The
next day, the local paper was full of it—the AUDACITY of
actually throwing out someone who had paid for a ticket!
We were doing live radio at the time and our tech, who
eventually quit radio to become a croupier, went to Las
Vegas often. I was telling him about this and he said, "Oh,
that's part of his act. I saw him do the same thing in Vegas."
The guys he ejected were obviously "ringers," planted there
just for that purpose. So Carlin had given me a slice of
wisdom yet again, by making me see how eager we are to
jump to conclusions, especially when they involve being able
to gleefully criticize someone else.
Carlin used the same mail center we use when we're in Los
Angeles and I would see him there sometimes, although it's
considered very gauche in LA to go up and pump somebody's
hand under those circumstances. I first discovered he got his
mail there when I saw a brand new copy of Variety sticking
out of the trash can. I thought, "I'll take this, since
somebody obviously doesn't want it," then I was thrilled to
see it was addressed to my favorite comedian.
But Carlin and I go back much farther than that. One of his
favorite monologue subjects was the Catholic school he went
to in Morningside Heights in Manhattan. Well, I TAUGHT at
that school! When I discovered this was the place Carlin was
always joking about, I tried to engage the nuns there in
conversation about him, and that's when I discovered that
they STILL did not think he funny—not one little bit!
I’ve never known a "real" guru of any sort without a sense of
humor—I think it comes with the territory. How could it be
possible to have wisdom without humor? Perhaps that would
be a good test of a religious leader's veracity: tell him a joke
and see how he reacts.
Related Entries:
01-Jul-2008: It Was a Festival, All Right
18-May-2008: Ordinary People
26-Apr-2008: What's It Like? (To Act in a movie)
24-Mar-2008: An Easter Diary from Anne
09-Mar-2008: The Lucky Lady--UPDATE!
27-Jan-2008: Faces & Mazes
19-Dec-2007: Anne's Diary: Spies
02-Dec-2007: Stories of Good & Evil
11-Sep-2007: For Kari, Once Again
03-Sep-2007: Ancestors
