R.I.P.

While I wouldn't count George Carlin as one of my idols, I am greatly saddened by his passing. He was definitely a thinking man's comedian - and even the word "comedian" seems inadequate to describe his unique brand of observation and dignified umbrage against the numerous idiocies of life.

Not unlike my inexplicable penchant for mutton-chopped, white jump suit Elvis, it is the latter-day Carlin that really resonated with me. His HBO specials and TV appearances of the last few years found him in excellent form, adding a macabre tinge to his acerbic delivery.

Never one to suffer fools gladly, Carlin once offered a riff on people the world would be better off without, noting they "oughta be beaten with heavy clubs and left bleeding in the moonlight."

That image—left bleeding in the mooonlight—is sheer poetry! And, God help me, hilarious!

Many of the obituaries mention cynicism and bitterness, but he never really struck me that way. George Carlin, to my mind, was always about calling a spade a spade. Sometimes he took an exaggerated route, perhaps, to make his point—but he was nothing if not on point.