So Newscoma says it best over here.  Along with all the other people who are commenting about George Carlin’s death.  But all I could think about this morning, when I read he was gone, was our own personal family experience with Mr. Carlin and his seven words you can’t say on TV or Radio.  Yeah, we personalized that one, imagine?  And here’s how.

It’s 1977, or so, and I’m around 12 ish.  I get an allowance each week, a good portion of which is spent on record purchases.  Yes, kids, this was back in the olden days, when music was on those big black vinyl discs and played on open record players.  Look it up on Wiki if you don’t know what I’m talking about.  Anyway, back then, in the olden days, everybody sold music.  Everybody.  And my best friend – Sherri – and I rode our bikes down to the Mall, so we could spend those allowances that were burning a hole in our pockets.  So, here we are, browsing their record department, when we come upon Mr. George Carlin’s masterpiece "Class Clown", and it’s infamous Seven Words.  Having not much knowledge of Mr. Carlin, but seeing the sticker on the front that said "Adult Language", I decided immediately that I had to have that album and so it was on that classic piece of comedy that I spent my $10.00 that week.  After I paid my money, we jumped on our bikes and rode home as fast as possible, my very inappropriate adult purchase held tight in my sweaty little hands.  Because my Mom was at work, Sherri and I went to my house, where we sat in my bedroom floor and listened to the entire thing.  Laughing uproariously at his bad words, puzzling over some of his other bits that we didn’t quite "get", and generally feeling like real grownups.  We went to school and told all our friends about the new album, and had a listening party the next day, so all our friends could enjoy our new-found knowledge.  Everything was great.  No one was any the wiser to our newfound adult knowledge.  Oh, and I was the coolest kid in the seventh grade!  For the first time ever.  And it lasted for a while, until my Mom found the album.  You see, I went to Sherri’s to spend the night, and Mom decided to hang out at home and listen to some music.  She wasn’t familiar with Mr. Carlin, or his words, and the helpful sticker that said "Contains Adult Language" was long gone from the album cover.  So she popped it on the big stereo, the one with the floor sized speakers, the one that the neighbors could hear perfectly, and Mr. Carlin’s words flowed out of her speakers and caused her to faint dead away.  Well, maybe not faint, but she certainly didn’t let him say more than half of them before she had screamed a few of her own.  Words like "where the hell did this filth come from?"  And "I’m going to kill that kid!"  And "who sold this filth to children?"  Yeah, those were just a few of her choice words.  Then my Mom drove to Sherri’s house, picked me up, brought my twelve year old butt home, and sat me down for a little discussion.  Then she took me, and Mr. Carlin’s masterpiece, back to Sears, where she sat the Store Manager down for the same discussion.  I think she used some of those seven words on him.  But at least she blushed when she used them.  And then she made him take back the album and refund my money.  But she never again let me bring any albums in the house that she hadn’t approved of or listened to.  In short, Mr. Carlin and his words made my Mom into Tipper Gore, before there was a Tipper Gore, a one woman music censorship committee.  So, even though I wasn’t the coolest kid in the seventh grade anymore, I guess I should thank you Mr. George Carlin.  Because of you – and your seven words- my mother became a very involved and hands-on single working parent.  I thank you now, and she thanks you too, back then as well as today. 

As an adult, and still an admirer of your humor, I can say for sure that you will be missed from our world.  Your perspective was unique and irreplaceable.  And yesterday Heaven got just a little funnier.  But if I were you George, I wouldn’t use those seven words around God.  He’s got the same sense of humor that my Mom has.  Or so I’ve been told.

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