The Cure For Thinking About What Ails Ya
Mark Watson is away. Today’s guest blogger: LisaD (the Yank)
Although very drawn to the topic “BIRDS, ECT” (It’s really the “ECT” that had my attention as that one little abbreviation opens up a world of possibilities) I have decided instead to address the topic of how I stop myself thinking about death. My method is simple, easy for anyone to use and can be summed up in two words: George Carlin, a man so legendary in his genius that his last name is one of the few proper nouns that my spellchecker knows. (His and Bruce Springsteen’s. I have a lot of respect for the programmer that wrote the code for this program.) If you’re not familiar with the comedy stylings of George Carlin, fix that immediately. Seriously, stop reading this blog and go look him up on youtube. We can wait.
There is a bit of irony that I stop myself thinking about death by thinking about George Carlin. For a start he is—and I apologize to any who might find this blunt—dead. Since that very sad day two years ago it is a little harder to stave off the subject of death by thinking about Carlin. If one isn’t careful, thinking about how much less funny the world became that day can actually kick off a really good gloom fest. I’m not all that old, but as one gets older it can be a bit disturbing to think about the number of people one found cool in one’s youth who are no longer with us. My favorite punk band in high school, for example, has only the drummer left. Not even their original drummer, the second drummer.
I can still remember with perfect clarity the first time I heard George Carlin’s voice. I was eleven years old and going through my father’s record albums. What I found was this odd looking album the cover of which had a hippie making funny faces. Well who can resist that? “Class Clown” it was called. I may have been a little kid when I put that record on my father’s turntable, but I was an adolescent by the time it was over. Some people describe their introduction to puberty in the form of budding sexual awareness. For me it was awareness of a different sort. As I listened to Carlin deconstruct every major institution in my life I was well on my way to become an angry young woman and laughing gleefully all the while. This was no ordinary comedy album. The Church, the American government and the Supreme Court (The incredibly famous routine: “7 words you can’t say on television” led to the test case that set the rules regarding broadcasting profanity in the US) they were all right to be afraid it; this was Tree of Knowledge kind of shit. I discovered George Carlin and punk rock in the same week. I don’t think that’s a co-incidence.
Unlike punk, Carlin was something my Dad and I could share. As I became more and more unrecognizable to him, loving Carlin was something we always had in common. After hearing the 7 Dirty Words once I could recite them all perfectly, causing my father to beam with pride: “That’s my girl…don’t tell your mother.” Mom didn’t share our love of Carlin. She shared his politics, but even after her conversion to a more liberal faith she was still too much of a Catholic at heart to be OK with someone who got such glee from mocking the “Heavy Mysteries.” Years later when I came out to her a second time, this time as an atheist, she couldn’t resist blaming my father and his “damned George Carlin records.” She had a point. Dad and Carlin merged in my head as I grew up, together becoming the voice in the back of my mind encouraging me to be a rebel, a skeptic, and to take nothing very seriously.
It’s years later and I’m a grown up (although I’m a grown up with purple streaks in my hair where the gray should be) and my dad’s in his 60′s. He’s also dying. Not much I can do or say about that. It isn’t from anything noble or unsual, there’s no ribbon for it. It’s just something else that he and Carlin have in common: an incredibly unhealthy youth that they have to pay for later. We’ll talk on the phone and I’ll feel myself about to be overcome with the fear of this upcoming loss and suddenly my dad will say: “This is Al Sleet your hippie dippie weatherman, bringing you the weather, man. Tonight’s forecast: DARK!”
Posted by Knox on May 23, 2011
I remember starting to read this when it originally came out. ‘Starting’, because then I went away to youtube George Carlin, and forgot to come back!
Brilliant emergency blogging once again – reminded me very much of discovering Denis Leary, and via him, Bill Hicks. Excellent!
Posted by Ally on May 17, 2010
My Dad introduced me to Monty Python and the Three Stooges when I was probably still too young to understand them
Still love them.
Brilliant blog LisaD!
Posted by Maddie on May 17, 2010
Great blog Lisa!
xxx
Posted by lisa brunders on May 16, 2010
Great blog Lisa, thank you.
I’m sorry to hear about your dad, it’s very hard to live with the knowledge of imminent death of a loved one <>
I’m not so worried about the ash cloud stopping Mark getting back now, I’m sure the EB Team will keep us all happy if he does get delayed.
I’m off to youtube now.
Posted by Kate W on May 16, 2010
Nice work Lisa; enjoyed that very much and it’s added George Carlin to my “People whose work I need to see” list (I’ve been watching – and loving – Bill Hicks lately).
It’s great to have comedy/music you can share with your parents. My dad took the record collection with him, so the music of my childhood consists entirely of ‘City to City’ (Gerry Rafferty) and ‘Pearl’s a Singer’ (Elkie Brooks); not exactly classic choices!
Posted by (Magnificent) Josh on May 16, 2010
I love how varied these 3 (so far) posts are. I reckon we should do this more often. Bravo.
Posted by K on May 16, 2010
{{Hugs}} to you Lisa. My father died of another hard & boring disease coming up to 10 years ago now, and whenever I come across one of his old favourites (the Goon Show, Flanders & Swan & Bob Newhart particularly) I always regret no longer being able to share the experience with him, and in a way that he missed the internet-enabled, always-on entertainment and educational oportunities we now have. He would have loved the ability to look up any of his obscure hobbies and find a community of people that shared his interests (as we have!), when his family did not, and be able to participate from home when he could not get out.
I do not envy you the time to come, but I am deeply jealous of the time you have left with your father. Learn, if he will tell you, as much about him, his own version of his history and opinions as you can. Listen to all his stories again, no matter how often you have heard them before. Record his voice. Nothing can ever make up for the loss of a parent that you love, but, although it’s all terribly cliched, trust me that you don’t want live to regret time that you could have spent with him, but didn’t. {Hug}.
Posted by Someone on May 16, 2010
NIce one. I just watched Bill and Ted with Carlin in :]
And I like that end quote; I should probably watch a bit more of his stuff really… to youtube!
Posted by LisaD on May 16, 2010
Wow. Mark isn’t kidding about the lift that comes from reading the comments! Thanks guys.
And PS I share Megan’s recommendation of “Last Words” it is a remarkably honest book.
Posted by Rachael on May 16, 2010
Sounds like when I found my dads beach boys record, that was a good day.
Posted by Misha on May 16, 2010
Your Dad sounds amazing Lisa.
As someone who worried about death loads I can say just enjoy it all whilst you can.
Posted by h2osarah on May 16, 2010
Nice blog Lisa! Carlin was brilliant! And I’m sorry to hear about your Dad. Many *hugs* and just keep listening to Carlin! Comedy gets you through everything! xx
Posted by deanna on May 16, 2010
nice blog Lisa! i must go look this carlin fellow up.
Posted by Megan on May 16, 2010
Lisa, you are awesome. Thank you for picking a topic so dear to me! George Carlin was great. If you haven’t read Last Words, please, please do.
Last year, I went to visit some friends in L.A.. About a week before I left, my friend called to tell me that they had a baby class on the night of my arrival and asked if I minded terribly if I could find something to occupy myself. A quick look on the intertubes found me a tribute to George Carlin at the Actors’ Gang (basically, they were showing Jammin’ in New York and launching his posthumously published memoirs). It was a great night. His daughter Kelly was there to do some readings and to tell her own stories about her dad. An amazing man. (Also? Actor’s Gang founder Tim Robbins was there. He is very tall. Roseanne was also there, laughing louder than anyone else. And Garry Shandling lined up for a book like everyone else. Comic genius brings other awesome people out (yes, Roseanne is mad, but still a pioneer of sorts.))
Posted by elin on May 16, 2010
I like your dad!
And I guess I need to top up my very rudimentary knowledge of George Carlin…