First Tim, Now George ... Who's Next?

June hasn't been a good month for me and my personal heroes.

For all the shock around Tim Russert's death, the loss of George Carlin was a bigger blow. He was one of the only celebrities I met outside the confines of journalism. I got about ninety seconds of face time at the Mayfield Heights Barnes & Noble when he appeared for a signing session for Brain Droppings, his first book.

Through all the box sets, DVDs, books and two live concerts, those seconds stuck with me. I didn't bore him with details of our long history. I used to sneak down to watch his HBO specials after my parents went to sleep. The severely stifled laughter never gave me away.

In my teen years, I discovered my parents liked him too - Dad and I saw him twice, and Mom kept some types in her car. In fact, Dad woke me this morning with the news. I'd not been as sad over a celebrity death since Johnny Cash.

Ironically, I'd watched the first episode of Saturday Night Live on Sunday night, not knowing he was already gone - I even thought about traveling to an upcoming concert to see him again.

It was just like a night in Washington D.C. nearly seven years ago, when Erin Roberts and I drank beers at the Rathskeller and talked about George Harrison, only to wake up to news of his death.

Moreso than other comedians, Carlin had a love of language and words - and not just those seven famous words. There's always "Baseball vs. Football," or the bit on Mohammed Ali ("If you won't kill 'em, we're not going to let you beat 'em up"). I always fell back on "The Things We Share," "The Planet is Fine" or "Free Floating Hostility" - Plus, he hated golf (see "Golf Courses for the Homeless"), which immediately endeared me to him. A Carlin comedy special was an event - what new musings on life and politics would George spout this time?

Few could go so quickly from a shit joke to trashing American politics to how we use soft language to strip away meaning and emotion. Few want to, which is what made the man great.

Now, I have to work, and starting with An Evening With Wally Londo, I will write about Colorado's low-cost generic pharmacy plan while working through his discography.

With some of the man's milder words, I'll leave you:

"Tonight's forecast ... dark, with continued dark until morning."

"Life is a series of dogs."

"The closest most of these assholes ever came to a cow is when they stopped to take a piss at an Arby's" (on men who wear cowboy hats).

"Simon says, 'Go fuck yourself.'"