George Carlin died this week. I could say “passed on,” or any number of other euphemisms, but for him, that would be the ultimate in disrespect. George was perhaps the best I’ve ever known for telling the truth without pulling any punches. And he did it while making you laugh.
I didn’t talk to God about George’s death. To George, God was an invisible man in the sky who was the ultimate oxymoron, an all-powerful, perfect being whose every work was fundamentally flawed and destined to fall apart. So I honor his memory by living this week in a universe that exists without a God, a universe that is controlled only by the fundamental constants of physics.
I’d like to say something funny about it all. I’d like to find the humor in his being gone, but it would probably take me years to write anything worthy. So let me just say, here’s to you, George. If you get an afterlife and you run into God, I know you’ll give him hell.
And I’m sure he’ll thank you for it.
Just as soon as he’s done laughing.