The Seven Words You Don't Want to Hear on Television

George Carlin died today. He was 71.

OK, that's kinda eight words, but it still says the same thing. The father of irreverent comedy passed away yesterday from heart failure. If you do not know his influence, then you should be ashamed of yourself. Whenever you hear Lewis Black scream about something f-ed up, thank Carlin. Whenever Chris Titus tells of getting into a fist fight with his father, Carlin set that up. Whenever Bill Maher sticks his head up his ass and says something stupid, yeah, you can blame Carlin for that too. And don't come at me with that Lenny Bruce crap. He broke the ice, but George melted the pieces.

I didn't always agree with George. His direct attack on religion, and Christianity in particular, often left me cold and uncomfortable. But what he said often challenged my beliefs and made me look at them harder. He made me a better person by forcing me to defend what I believed.

But more than that, I respect him for his undying struggle to flip off the censors. That may come as a surprise to you based on what I just said, but I do believe that no one has the right to tell you what you can and cannot say. Period. We were made with free will, and we are expected to use it with some common sense. Government, or anyone for that matter, has no business dictating my common sense to me. Carlin believed the same thing, and fought for it.

In 1972, George Carlin was arrested for saying seven words that were considered unutterable by "decent society." This case was later dismissed but reared its head in a Supreme Court case, F.C.C. v. Pacifica Foundation, which ultimately gave the FCC the right to fine the crap out of CBS affiliates for Janet Jackson's 40 year old, sagging, star covered breast.

So now we move on without George. I don't know who will take up his banner, but someone better. Or Big Brother will come get you.

Oh, and never let it be said I was all talk and no substance. Let Blogger take this post down, I don't care.

"Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits."
--George Carlin RIP

The Myth of Teaching

Today was the first official day of summer.

Yes I have a few more days to work, but the kids are gone! Some of you are reading this and are insanely jealous of me right now. "I wish I had three months off," is what is going on in many of your minds right now. It is important at this point to establish two facts:

1. It's not three months, it's more like two.
2. I will spend it sleeping.

It is a sad truth that teachers tend to hibernate the first few weeks of summer. We have been ridden hard since Spring Break and we need a break. There have been end of grade tests, end of course tests, proms, graduations, arrests, uhh...did I mention graduations?

And besides, its not like I am not doing anything. I am still writing this blog and my other assignments. I have a few conferences to attend and there's academic team practice for next year's team. Plus I have to look for a new day job.

Kidding. Put the knife down and step away from it mother.

The point I'm trying to make here is this: I have put in the hours to make up for the two months I have "off." I have spent many a night until midnight or later planning lessons that my kids will sleep through the next day. I have wasted countless weekends preparing worksheets that will be left on my floor at the end of class. I have missed my children's milestones in life to talk to a stoned mother about her stoned child. OK, I made that last part up.

I've never missed a milestone.

So, when you get up in the morning next week and have to fight traffic and idiots in that morning commute to a stuff cubical, in a stuffy office, wearing your stuffy clothes, rest assured that I have already put in that time on Oct 17. I've been ahead of you the whole time. Now we're even.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to enter my cave...