R.I.P. George Carlin -- Groundbreaking comic's legal legacy may be the opposite of his ideals

It's taken me a while to write something about the death of George Carlin, and not just because I'm a fan who found his later work increasingly disappointing.

My bigger problem: putting a finger on his real legacy. After all, this was a guy whose button-pushing comedy routine about the seven words you can't say on television actually resulted in a Supreme Court case, 1978's FCC vs. Pacifica, which has provided the legal foundation for all the indecency fines since levied by the government against broadcasters.

"The 5-4 decision upheld the FCC’s right to regulate indecency based on the government argument of protecting children," said Jeremy Lipschultz, a communication professor at the University of Nebraska at Omaha who has written a book on the FCC and the First Amendment. "It was a decision about how deeply the government injects itself into the specific decisions people make about how to express themselves, by telling them which words are indecent. It also extended the notion that there is a difference to material that is broadcast over the public airwaves.”

I'm enough of a fan that I can remember all the words in his original routine -- shit, p--s, c--k, c--t, c--ksucker m--herf--ker and tits (even on the blog, I'm not comfortable actually writing them out). The sidesplitting routine, aired on New York Pacifica radio station WBAI, prompted a lawsuit from a parent concerned that his child be shielded from such material.

The result: a ruling allowing the FCC to set up its current guidelines, in which indecent material is banned from broadcast TV and radio during a "safe harbor" of 6 a.m. to 10 p.m., when children are presumed to be listening. According to the FCC, indecent material "depicts or describes sexual or excretory organs or activities."

Carlin nailed our conflicted, repressed relationship to language so well, that even now only a couple of his "filthy words" can be heard on broadcast TV, usually after 10 p.m. In the process, his work inspired a court decision that enshrined those wacked-out values in law, distilling the attitude so well, Lipschultz still plays the routine in classes to teach his students about the impact of the FCC's content policing.

Perhaps that's why Carlin's routines seemed to get more bitter and angry as the years progressed, until recent standup shows seemed to consist mostly of his recounting things in life that pissed him off -- which was most everything. A lifetime of rebellion is a tough gig, especially if it inadvertently makes your enemies stronger.

“I saw many interviews with (Carlin) and he seemed pleased that it went to the Supreme Court and was glad to become the poster child for indecency," said Lipschultz, noting that Carlin died in a year where the Supreme Court is considering a case which might remove the FCC's ability to punish broadcasters for airing curse words in error. "It's a shame he didn't make it long enough to see some of this come down."   

Comments

[Ward Smith]

Seven Words You Can’t Say In Heaven
By Ward Smith

I’ve spent some time over the last few days channeling George Carlin, and I don’t mean on HBO. Reports of his death, though not greatly exaggerated, are a little off. The legendary comic still has lots to say.

“Well, looks like I’m dead. It actually takes a while to make death stick. Junk mail keeps coming addressed to ‘resident.’ I haven’t been returning many phone calls. I haven’t used up all my free minutes or my toenail fungus medication. I’ve been lethargic. I’ve gotten a few comments that I’m just not behaving like myself. Maybe I could use a little pick-me-up or a laxative.

Yep, I’m gone. Passed; Expired; Deceased; Gone to pasture. Six feet under; No more; No longer with us; Kicked the bucket. Worm food; Met his Maker- thou I’ve yet to meet anyone actually making anything. Gone to the great beyond; Stiff; Laid out. I’m on permanent out of office reply and I won’t be checking my voicemail, as I won’t be getting back to you. I got promoted to subterranean Truffle Inspector-I’ve cashed in my chips and bought the farm.

My domain name is suspended. My server has crashed. I’ve been bumped for a summer replacement series. Put a fork in me, cause I’m fettuccine al dead-o.

Do I have any regrets? Sure. I regret that I didn’t videotape my passing and post it on YouTube. Bet you it would have gotten a lot of hits. I regret not dying a moment after someone in the room laid a big fart, so he’d think, ‘Hey, I didn’t mean to kill anyone!’ I regret not renting a whole lot of DVDs from Blockbuster and dying the day they were due. They’d keep calling my home for years. ‘Our records show you have not returned Pipi Longstocking.’

But I look on the bright side. It’s always good to die before the autopsy. And now I get to think about things even I never had the time to think about before. Like if all the times I was late and all the times I was early add up to zero. I don’t have to listen to anyone yelling ‘Marco!’ or anyone, for that matter, yelling ‘Polo!’ I don’t have to wait on line while the person ahead of me pays for a dining room set with rolls of pennies.

They say you can’t help getting older. Well, I finally got a handle on that situation. I’m going to stay 71 for a long, long time. And talk about going cold turkey, I’m no longer addicted to a wide variety of substances, including oxygen. I can no longer be bored. And I can no longer die. Most important of all, I can no longer be bored to death. Not to mention all the time I’ll be saving. No more time wasted doing a number one, or a number two. No more number three either, whatever the hell that is. Plus, there’s no more getting ready for my day in the morning, or getting ready for bed at night. All those activities cancelled each other out anyway.

Come to think of it, all the things I did when I got up and all the things I did when I went to bed were getting so overwhelming they were threatening to meet in the middle somewhere around noon. Between breathing in and breathing out, there was just no time left. Not unless I was David Blaine. Now, you could say, I have a lot of time on my hands. Problem is, I don’t have hands.

I know what you’re asking. Are there seven words you can’t say in heaven? As a matter of fact, there are. These are the seven words you can’t say in heaven: Bush, Taxes, Arafat, Hussein, Wolfowitz, Pelosi, and Libby. And Libby doesn’t even belong on the list, man. It’s such a friendly word. Sounds like a nickname. Scooter Libby. Come on--the first name is a pie, the last name is a canned fruit."

[Eric Deggans]

you think death will stop that? I just got an email from elvis the other day.

[GlennS.]

I had a weird thought last night. Now that George Carlin and Kurt Vonnegut are both gone, who are people going to falsely attribute all those stupid forwarded e-mails to now?

[Oscar]

I first saw him in 1986 and his very funny routine ended with a bit I called "something to offend everyone". It was dangerous and risky and right on, even when it hurt.

But he taught me about the importance of context in language. Words themselves are not dangerous, it is the context they are said in. That, I believe, is the point Eric tries to make on this blog time and time again.

Here is the you tube link. (NSFW)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKHmlK8xFxc

The nice thing about all these people who are praising Carlin is, he could absolutly care less. That is cool

[GlennS.]

There seem to have been three distinct phases in Carlin's career: his early days as a "straight" comedian, his 70s persona as a daring yet ultimately sweet-natured guy, and the latter day angry man who increasingly seemed to have it in for the whole human race.

All versions of Carlin had their comic moments, but it was that middle guy I liked the best.