REMOTE CONTROL
Published Wednesday July 2nd, 2008
George Carlin never needed a censor
The man many call the originator of the dirty clean joke is no longer with us.
George Carlin may have died on Sunday, June 22 of a heart attack, but — for reasons known only to their editors — the seven words he said you couldn't say on television were not used, on U.S. small screen newscasts, to mark his passing.
It's kind of ironic, because Carlin, deep down, hoped that they would finally be spoken, in succession, somewhere on network television to describe his passion for the truth and for shocking his audience into fits of laughter.
In my view, that's too bad — because the ratings, and FCC, fiasco this would have caused would have been glorious to the extreme.
Carlin deserved better than just an illusionary editorial about the words.
On as many stations as possible, he should have been saluted in a five-second tribute with every one of these so-called curses read in succession.
Why? It's simple.
He spent nearly five decades of his talented life trying to get people to lighten up and finally say them aloud.
Now who can argue with that?
Maybe, like me, he envisioned old-school stuffies like Deborah Norville or Peter Mansbridge saying those so-called dirty words to describe the essence of his work while marking his passing.
Carlin had publicly stated many times in the past those seven mal mots were all about freedom — the freedom to bring forth your ideas on life and not be scared of the content of the words, but be gleeful for the power they possess to draw attention to the foolish ideas of those who think they are dirty.
Although network television continues to shun the words, you can say those words on cable television — such as HBO, his concert-home-away-from-home for 31 years — but we're still waiting for ABC, NBC, CBS and the other national chains to give in to their funny bone.
Granted, Carlin was no Lenny Bruce or Richard Pryor.
Bruce went to jail, and eventually died, for his stand-up sins, while Pryor met his match when he discovered the white powder which often comes with monetary success in Hollywood.
Carlin was never a person who would shy from his own demons, but he always seemed to be happy on a level we could all understand.
Although he suffered from addiction for many years, and his health had waned in the past decade and eventually cut his touring schedule by more than half, he was always looking for the next challenge to his comedic wit.
One last thing. I was planning to use all seven of those words in this column in tribute to Carlin, but — as many of you already know — I don't write for Rolling Stone, so I can't.
One word did come to mind when I heard that Carlin had passed.
I was driving home to my father-in-law's house in Assonet, Mass. when I heard the news.
Guess what? Almost immediately, I said one of the seven words.
That tells you a lot about me and a lot about him, I guess.
Maybe the word which rhymes with duck will be said without fear one of these days on a network program - and that's a day I'm looking forward to.
Words which can hurt at times, which we take back and laugh at, will never hurt us.
Carlin was never out to hurt anyone with his seven words.
He always held the mirror into our lives — which we had to look into and giggle.
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