For the love of Buddy Christ...

I miss George Carlin.

He would have so much to say about this election. No, I don't think he's spinning in his grave over it. Hardly. More likely, there's a big poker game going on in Heaven right now with George, Bernie Mac, Isaac Hayes... They're all shootin' the shit, chewin' on a stogie and laughing their asses off at us poor bastards.

Stewart and Colbert are just as brilliant but not as blunt. Carlin didn't need to wrap the funny in a glossy, sweet-smelling package. I imagine John Stewart smells like a Pottery Barn candle; Colbert...Mmm, not so much. More like a Potty. Or a Barn (I kid because I love). Nope, Carlin was a man with a microphone on a stage in a room.

You know, I think a little Daily Dose of Carlin would be nice right now. I'm going to end my posts for a while with some of my favorite Carlin bits. Starting with this one:

I have a problem with married people who carry their babies in backpacks or frontpacks or slings, or whatever those devices are called. Those baby-carrying devices that seem designed to leave the parent's hands free to sort through merchandise. Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Natural Fibers, is it too much trouble to ask you to hold the fuckin' kid? Are you so busy picking out consumer goods and reaching for your credit card that you can't hold the baby? It's not an accessory or a mall appliance. It's a baby("Napalm and Silly Putty", by George Carlin).

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