I was so sad to read the news this morning. George Carlin died yesterday. I previously wrote how my brother and I listened to George in the A/V room of the
La Crosse public library. He was quite the wordsmith, that George. And while I can't put most of his clips on my blog, due to his choice of "words", I can put this one on. I particularly love the guy introducing him - his funky shirt, Farrah-hair, and Magnum P.I. mustache. Now that's a ladies man.
By the way, my parents said everything on his list of what parents tell their kids. One in particular stands out. My mom used this when she really wanted us to shut up. "Wait till your father gets home..." That one was the biggie. Would she forget about it? Would it get worse in her mind? Would she make up stuff for good measure? How much does a Greyhound bus ticket cost? What, exactly, is necessary for an insanity defense? By the time my dad actually walked in the door for dinner I would have a bleeding ulcer.
Thanks, George, for helping me to expand my vocabulary at a young age.