My Monday started with a bit of heartache. George Carlin has left us, at age 71. One of the great truthspeakers of our time is gone. The older he got, the less he cared about the sensibilities he offended. In fact, I think he went out of his way to target new ones. Discomfort is what makes us grow. Anger is what makes us fight. He saw the exoskeleton that we'd outgrown, and he advocated breaking it and growing out. Or maybe he was just a cranky man who liked to pick at scabs. Who knows?
So goodbye dear friend. You held up a mirror, and it was good for all of us.
I do have one beef, Georgie. Why the fuck did you never (in your ENTIRE 71 years) do anything with the Muppets? You can hang out with the Smothers Brothers, you can do a stint as a train conductor on a kids show, but you can't chill with Cookie Monster or Fozzie? I think, if you're sitting on a cloud, sifting through it all (you know, before you start causing trouble again) that should be one of the points that you consider and go "Damn, I never got to do the 7 Words bit with Bert and Ernie"
I will knit something for you, I think. It'll be grand, and my grandmother will never, ever, be able to see it.
On another note... I had to buy deodorant the other day. Gotta love a transition like that. As I was perusing the fragrances I found one called "Pure Cashmere" and I just about died laughing. I almost turned to the woman next to me and said "I want to smell like a goat!" but I realized she was weirded out enough by the laughing.
Did I get it? You bet your sweet ass I did!
But sadly, it smells like vanilla. I don't want my armpits to smell like a milkshake. I'd honestly be happier with a Eau de Sheep and Wool.