OK, first Tim Russert and now George Carlin!
Two of my favorites have finished their course.
I always thought Carlin was the best.
I remember being a young man and laughing out loud when he did his thing.
My God, this life is brief, beautiful, and full of absolutely amazing people.
One of the things these two dudes had in common was their passion for life and for their craft. And they were both the best at what they did. Period.
So, I went out to the library yesterday and got one of his books titled something like When Will Jesus Pass The Pork Chops?
Pass one to George now will you Lord?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
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We had the Class Clown record (yes! vinyl!) at our house. The seven words you can't say on television. Al Sleet, the hippy dippy weatherman. "Tonight's forecast: Dark. Continued dark throughout most of the evening, with some widely-scattered light towards morning."
In memoriam, here is The Hair Poem.
Hair Poem--George Carlin
I'm aware some stare at my hair.
In fact, to be fair,
Some really despair of my hair.
But I don't care,
Cause they're not aware,
Nor are they debonair.
In fact, they're just square.
They see hair down to there,
Say, "Beware"
And go off on a tear!
I say, "No fair!"
A head that's bare
Is really nowhere.
So be like a bear,
Be fair with your hair!
Show it you care.
Wear it to there.
Or to there.
Or to there, if you dare!
My wife bought some hair at a fair,
To use as a spare.
Did I care?
Au contraire!
Spare hair is fair!
In fact, hair can be rare.
Fred Astaire got no hair,
Nor does a chair,
Nor nor a chocolate eclair,
And where is the hair on a pear?
Nowhere, mon frere!
So now that I've shared this affair of the hair,
I'm going to repair to my lair
And use Nair.
Do you care?
Funny guy and what a lover of language!
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