Tag Archives: death

George Carlin Dies At Age 71

This news makes me very, very sad.

George Carlin mourned as counterculture hero
By Keith St. Clair, Associated Press Writer

LOS ANGELES – Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television. Some People Are Stupid. Stuff. People I Can Do Without. George Carlin, who died of heart failure Sunday at 71, leaves behind not only a series of memorable routines, but a legal legacy: His most celebrated monologue, a frantic, informed riff on those infamous seven words, led to a Supreme Court decision on broadcasting offensive language.

The counterculture hero’s jokes also targeted things such as misplaced shame, religious hypocrisy and linguistic quirks — why, he asked, do we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway?

Carlin, who had a history of heart trouble, went into St. John’s Health Center in Santa Monica on Sunday afternoon complaining of chest pain and died later that evening, said his publicist, Jeff Abraham. He had performed as recently as last weekend at the Orleans Casino and Hotel in Las Vegas.

“He was a genius and I will miss him dearly,” Jack Burns, who was the other half of a comedy duo with Carlin in the early 1960s, told The Associated Press.

The actor Ben Stiller called Carlin “a hugely influential force in stand-up comedy. He had an amazing mind, and his humor was brave, and always challenging us to look at ourselves and question our belief systems, while being incredibly entertaining. He was one of the greats.”

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WARNING: This video contains strong language and may be offensive to some viewers.


In Loving Memory of Julie Lyn

I was three years old when my mother was pregnant with Julie; I remember my mother’s huge belly. She would let me play by pushing her protruding belly button and saying, “Ding dong! Is anybody home?” I would then press my ear against Mother’s belly and pretend that Julie was talking to me.

When my parent’s brought Julie home from the hospital, the first thing I noticed was her dark hair sticking out of the top of the blanket she was wrapped in. My hair was lighter; more like my mother’s. Because Julie’s hair was the color of my father’s, I assumed she was a boy. I didn’t want a brother. My parents assured me she was a girl, and I took to her immediately.

I was still quite small myself, and was not allowed to carry Julie around like I wanted to. Mother would often lay her on a thick blanket on the floor, and I would pull her around the house by the edge of the blanket. I just wanted her with me.

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