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George Carlin's
Explicit Lyrics CD


  1. Offensive Language
  2. I Ain't Afraid Of Cancer
  3. Some People Are Stupid
  4. Rape Can Be Funny
  5. Feminist Blowjob
  6. Good Ideas
  7. Things You Never See
  8. Things You Never Hear
  9. Things You Don't Wanna Hear
  10. Life's Little Moments
  11. I Love My Dog
  12. Organ Donor Programs
  13. Don't Pull The Plug On Me
  14. They're Only Words
  15. Euphemisms

Thank you, thank you, welcome to our show. Don't you think it's just a little bit strange that Ronald Reagan had an operation on his asshole and George Bush had an operation on his middle finger. Huh? Huh? What are these two men trying to tell us?

Now I'd like to begin tonight with an opening announcement: Because of the FCC, I'm never sure what it is I'm allowed to say. So..so, I now have my own official policy: This is the language you will not be hearing tonight.

You will not hear me say: bottom line, game plan, role model, scenario, or hopefully. I will not kick back, mellow out, or be on a roll. I will not go for it and I will not check it out; I don't even know what it is. And when I leave here I definitely will not boogie. I promise not to refer to anyone as a class act, a beautiful person or a happy camper. I will also not be saying "what a guy." And you will not hear me refer to anyone's lifestyle. If you want to know what a moronic word "lifestyle" is, all you have to do is realize that in a technical sense, Atilla the Hun had an active outdoor lifestyle. I will also not be saying any cute things like "moi." And I will not use the French adverb "tre" to modify any English adjectives. Such as "tre awesome," "tre gnarly," "tre fabou," "tre intense," or "tre out-of-sight." I will not say concept when I mean idea. I will not say impacted when I mean affected. There will be no hands-on state-of-the-art networking. We will not maximize, prioritize, or finalize...and we definitely will not interface. There will also...there will also be no new-age lingo spoken here tonight. No support-group jargon from the human potential movement. For instance, I will not share anything with you. I will not relate to you and you will not identify with me. I will give you no input, and I will expect no feedback. This will not be a learning experience, nor will it be a growth period. There'll be no sharing, no caring, no birthing, no bonding, no parenting, no nurturing. We will not establish a relationship, we will not have any meaningful dialogue and we definitely will not spend any quality time. We will not be supportive of one another, so that we can get in touch with our feelings in order to feel good about ourselves. And if you're one of those people who needs a little space...please...go the fuck outside.

Yeah, about time for me to get a little drink of water. Figure this stuff is safe to drink? Huh? Actually I don't care if it's safe or not, I drink it anyway. You know why? Cause I'm an American and I expect a little cancer in my food and water. That's right, I'm a loyal American and I'm not happy unless I've let government and industry poison me a little bit every day. Let me have a few hundred thousand carcinogens here.

Ahh, a little cancer never hurt anybody. Everybody needs a little cancer I think. It's good for you. Keeps you on you're toes. Besides, I ain't afraid of cancer...I had broccoli for lunch. Broccoli kills cancer. A lot of people don't know that, it's not out yet. It's true. You find out you got some cancer...(click) get yourself a fucking bowl of broccoli. That'll wipe it right out in a day or two. Cauliflower too. Cauliflower kills the really big cancers. The ones you can see through clothing from across the street. Broccoli kills the little ones. The ones that are slowly eating your way from inside...while your goddamn, goofy, half- educated doctor keeps telling you, "your doing fine Jim." In fact bring your doctor a bowl of broccoli. He's probably got cancer too. Probably picked it up from you. They don't know what they're doing, it's all guesswork in a white coat. Here, let me have a few more sips of industrial waste.

Ahh, maybe...maybe I can turn them cancers against one another. That's what you gotta hope for you know, that you get more than one cancer so they eat each other up instead of you. In fact, the way I look at it, the more cancer you got, the healthier you are.

Well I know, some people don't like you to talk about those things. I know that. Some people don't like you to mention certain things. Some people don't want you to say this. Some people don't want you to say that. Some people think if you mention some things they might happen...some people are really fucking stupid!

Did you ever notice that? How many really stupid people you run into during the day? Goddam there's a lot of stupid bastards walking around. Carry a little pad and pencil with you. You'll wind up with thirty or forty names by the end of the day. Look at it this way: Think of how stupid the average person is and then realize that half of them are stupider than that. And it doesn't take you very long to spot one of them does it? Take you about eight seconds. You'll be listening to some guy...you say..."this guy is fucking stupid!" Then...then there are some people, they're not stupid...they're full of shit. Huh? That doesn't take very long to spot either, does it? Take you about the same amount of time. You'll be listening to some guy..and saying, "well, he's fairly intelligent......ahht, he's full of shit!" Then there are some people, they're not stupid, they're not full of shit...they're fucking nuts! Dan Quayle is all three! All three! Stupid, full of shit, and fucking nuts! And where did he get that wife of his? Have you taken a good look at that Marilyn Quayle? Where did he get her, at a Halloween party or something? She looks like Prince Charles for Christ sake! Let me ask you something, does he actually have to fuck that women! Huh? God help him, I wouldn't fuck her with a stolen dick! That's my political humor. People like it when you're topical.

Ohhh, some people don't like you to talk like that. Ohh, some people like to shut you up for saying those things. You know that. Lots of people. Lots of groups in this country want to tell you how to talk. Tell you what you can't talk about. Well, sometimes they'll say, well you can talk about something but you can't joke about it. Say you can't joke about something because it's not funny. Comedians run into that shit all the time. Like rape. They'll say, "you can't joke about rape. Rape's not funny." I say, "fuck you, I think it's hilarious. How do you like that?" I can prove to you that rape is funny. Picture Porky Pig raping Elmer Fudd. See, hey why do you think they call him "Porky," eh? I know what you're going to say. "Elmer was asking for it. Elmer was coming on to Porky. Porky couldn't help himself, he got a hard- on, he got horney, he lost control, he went out of his mind." A lot of men talk like that. A lot of men think that way. They think it's the woman's fault. They like to blame the rape on the woman. Say, "she had it coming, she was wearing a short skirt." These guys think women ought to go to prison for being cock teasers. Don't seem fair to me. Don't seem right, but you can joke about it. I believe you can joke about anything. It all depends on how you construct the joke. What the exaggeration is. What the exaggeration is. Because every joke needs one exaggeration. Every joke needs one thing to be way out of proportion. Give you an example. Did you ever see a news story like this in the paper? Every now and then you run into a story, says, "some guy broke into a house, stole a lot of things, and while he was in there, he raped an 81 year old woman." And I'm thinking to myself, "WHY??? What the fuck kind of a social life does this guy have?" I want to say, "why did you do that?" "Well she was coming on to me. We were dancing and I got horney. Hey, she was asking for it, she had on a tight bathrobe." I'll say, "Jesus Christ, be a little fucking selective next time will you?"

Now, speaking of rape, do you know what I wonder? I wonder is there more rape at the equator or the north pole. These are the kind of things I think about when I'm sitting home alone and the power goes out. I wonder is there more rape at the equator or the north pole. I mean per capita, I know the populations are different. Most people think it's the equator, I think it's the north pole. People think it's the equator because it's hot down there, they don't wear a lot of clothing, guys can see women's tits, they get horney and there's a lot of fucking going on. That's exactly why there's less rape at the equator. Because there's a lot of fucking going on. You can tell there's a lot of fucking at the equator, take a look at the population figures. Billions of people live near the equator. How many Eskimos do we have? Thirty? Thirty five? No one's getting laid at the north pole, it's too fucking cold. Guys say to their wives, "hey tonight honey, huh, tonight, huh?" "Are you crazy? The wind chill factor is three hundred below." These guys are deprived. Their horney. Their pent up. Every now and then...p-pmm...they bust out, they got to rape somebody.

Now, the biggest problem an Eskimo rapist has, trying to get wet leather leggings off a woman who is kicking. Did you ever try to get leather pants off of someone who doesn't want to take them off? You would lose your hard-on in the process. Up at the north pole you dick would shrivel up like a stack of dimes. That's another thing I wonder. I wonder, does a rapist have a hard-on when he leaves the house in the morning, or does he develop it during the day while he's walking around looking for somebody. These are the kind of thoughts that kept me out of the really good schools.

Now I've probably got the feminists all pissed off at me because I'm joking about rape. Feminists want to control your language. Feminists want to tell you how to talk. And they're not alone. Their not alone. I'm not picking on the feminists. They got a lot of company in this country. There's a lot of groups, a lot of institutions in this country want to control your language. Tell you what you can say and what you can't say. Government wants to tell you some things you can't say because it's against the law. Well you can't say this because it's against the regulation. Well here's something you can't say because it's a secret. "You can't tell him that, because he's not clear to know that." Government wants to control information and control language, because that's the way you control thought...and basically that's the game they're in. Same with religion. Religion is nothing but mind control. Religion is just trying to control your mind, control your thought, so they're going to tell you some things you shouldn't say because they're sins. And besides telling you some things you shouldn't say, religion's going to suggest to you some things you ought to be saying. Here's something you ought to say first thing when you wake up in the morning. Here's something you ought to say just before you go to sleep at night. Here's something we always say on the third Wednesday in April after the first full moon in spring at four o'clock when the bells ring. Religion is always suggesting things you ought to be saying. Same with political groups of all kinds, political activists, anti- bias groups, special interest groups, are going to suggest the correct political vocabulary. The way you ought to be saying things, and that's where the feminists come in.

As I said, I got nothing against the feminists. In fact, I happen to agree with most of the feminist philosophy I have read. I agree for instance, that for the most part, men are vain, ignorant, greedy, brutal assholes who've just about ruined this planet...who've just...who've just about ruined this planet because they're afraid someone might have a bigger dick out there somewhere. Men are basically insecure about the size of their dicks and so they go to war over it. You don't have to be a political scientist or a history major to see the bigger dick foreign policy theory at work. It goes something like this..."what they have bigger dicks? Bomb them!!!" And of course the bombs and the bullets and the rockets are all shaped like dicks. I don't understand that part of it, but it is part of the equation. So I agree with that abstract. That man... men...males have pushed the technology that just about has this planet in a stranglehold. Mother Earth raped again, guess who..."hey she was asking for it."

I also happen to like it when feminists attack these fat-ass housewives who think there's nothing more to life that sitting home on the telephone, drinking coffee, watching TV and pumping out a baby every nine months. P-poom, p-poom, p-poom, p-poom, p-poom...will seven be enough Bob?...p-poom, p-poom. But what's the alternative? What's the alternative to pumping out a unit every nine months? Pointless careerism? Pointless careerism? Putting on a man-tailored suit with shoulder pads and imitating all the worst behavior of men? This is the noblest thing that women can think of? To take a job in a criminal corporation that's poisoning the environment and robbing customers out of their money? This is the worthiest thing they can think of? Isn't there something nobler they can do to be helping this planet heal? You don't hear much about that from these middle-class women. I've noticed that most of these feminists are white middle-class women. They don't give a shit about black women's problems. They don't care about Latino women. All they're interested in is their own reproductive freedom...and their pocketbooks. But, when it comes to changing the language, I think they make some good points, because we do think in language and so the quality of our thoughts and ideas could only be as good as the quality of our language. So maybe some of this patriarcho shit ought to go away. I think spokesman ought to be spokesperson. I think chairman ought to be chairperson. I think mankind ought to be human kind, but they take it too far, they take themselves too seriously, they exaggerate. They want me to call that thing in the street a personhole cover. I think that's taking it a little bit too far. What would you call a lady's man, a person's person? That would make a He-man an It-person. Little kids would be afraid of the boogieperson. They'd look up in the sky and see the person in the moon. Guys would say come back here and fight like a person. And we'd all sing "for it's a jolly good person." That's the kind of thing you would hear on late-night with David Letterperson. You know what I mean? So...so I think it's an exaggeration and I like to piss off any group that take's itself a little bit too seriously. An it does not take a lot of imagination to piss off a feminist. All you gotta do is run into NOW headquarters or Ms. magazine and say, "hey, which one of you cute little cupcakes wants to come home and cook me a nice meal and give me a blowjob!" "blowjob!" Oh. Oh, that pisses them off. You want to piss off a feminist, call her a cum-catcher. That'll get her attention. Aww don't act disgusted. Don't act disgusted. Half of you are going to go home and go down on each other tonight remember? If you're willing to swallow cum, let's not make believe something I said was disgusting. Okay? Huh? All right, let's not have a double standard here, one standard will do just fine.

Now, speaking of blowjobs, do you know why they call it a blowjob? So it'll sound like it has kind of a work ethic attached to it. Make you feel like you did something useful for the economy. As long as I'm being a complete pig up here, let me ask you guys a question. Let me ask, let me ask one question of the men. Are you ever able to watch a woman eating a banana and not think about a blowjob? Huh? I can't do it and I know why. I'm a sick evil fuck. I accept that, but I can't do it. Eating a banana, eating a pickle, licking on an ice-cream cone. I'm saying to myself, look at the tongue on her. Wooowww. So you women be careful when your standing in front of that Hńgen Daz. Cause god dammit were watching, hah, and god dammit were thinking.

Another women's issue, prostitution. I do not understand why prostitution is illegal. Why should prostitution be illegal. Selling is legal. Fucking is legal. Why isn't selling fucking legal? You know, why should it be illegal to sell something that's perfectly legal to give away. I can't follow the logic on that at all. Of all the things you can do to a person, giving someone an orgasm is hardly the worst thing in the world. In the army they give you a medal for spraying napalm on people. Civilian life, you go to jail for giving someone an orgasm. Maybe I'm not supposed to understand it.

I got strange ideas anyways. You know what I think they ought to do with those Miss America contest? I think they ought to keep making the losers come back until they win. Huh? I'll tell you, that would get a little spooky after about thirty five years or so huh? "I just want to work on world peace." "Fine, sit down before you fall down, will you? And pick up all these goddam batons."

I got a lot of ideas. You know what I think? I think Kleenex ought to have little targets on them. Wouldn't that be a good idea? Little bulls-eyes right in the middle of the Kleenex. Make it kind of sporty when you're with you friends. KKKkkkkoooott! Look Dave, an 85! Huh? That's a good idea. I got a lot of good ideas. Trouble is most of them suck. I got a lot of good ideas for new products like that. That's what I think about on my off-duty hours. Things we need. Products we ought to have that we don't have. You know what we ought to have? We ought to have a diet salad dressing called 500 islands. See, good goddam ideas like that. Eh? A Christian deodorant ,"thou shalt not smell". How about a feminine hygiene spray called "Sprunt"? Huh? Well, you'd never forget the name, would you? It would always be right on the tip of your tongue. See? Marketing, marketing, that's where I belong. Among other places. Marketing. Here's an idea I got. This is a yo-yo with a 2000 foot string. You use it when you visit the grand canyon. See, I'm a visionary. I'm ahead of my time. Trouble is, I'm only about an hour and a half ahead. Here's a good idea. A light bulb that only shines on things worth looking at. Yeah, too idealistic. Never make any money on a thing like that. Here's something that's going to make a fortune. Get in on this. This is a roach spray. It doesn't kill the roaches, but it fills them with self doubt as to whether or not they're in the right house. Here's something I'm trying to interest the Japanese electronics firms in this. This would be a great product for Sony. This is a combination cassette player and colostimy bag. It's called "Shitman"! Huh? Sure. Well you'd never see that. You'd never see that.

You'd never see a guy jogging down the street listening to a Shitman. No, that's one of those things you never see. There's a lot of things you never see and you don't know you don't see em because you don't see em. You gotta see something first to know you never saw it. Then you see it and say, "Hey, I never saw that." Too late, you just saw it. I know things you never see. You never a Rolls Royce with a bumper sticker that says "Shit happens." You never a really big, tall, fat Chinese guy with red hair. You never see a wheelchair with a roll-bar. You never see someone taking a shit while running at full speed. And, you never see a picture of Margaret Thatcher strapping on a dildo.

Then there are some things you never hear. That makes sense, some things you never hear. You never hear this, "dad, you really ought to drink more." Here's something you don't hear too often. "Do what you want to the girl, but leave me alone." Here is something no one has ever heard ever. Ever. "As soon as I put this hot poker in my ass, I'm going to chop my dick off." You know why you never that? Right! No one ever said that. Which to me is the more amazing thing, no one ever thought to say that before tonight. I'm the first person in the world put those words together in that particular order. First guy. Number one. Here's something you don't hear too often. "Honey, let's sell the children, move to Zanzibar and begin taking opium rectally." "Mom, mom I got a big date tonight. Can I borrow a French tickler from you?"

Then there are some things you don't want to hear. Some thing you just flat don't want to hear. You don't want to come home from work and hear, "Honey, remember how we told the children never to play on the railroad tracks." You don't want to be sitting in your doctors office and hear this. "Well Jim, there's no reason why you shouldn't live another twenty to thirty years. However, you will be bleeding constantly from both eyes." Here's something I don't want to hear. "I'm pregnant, your the father and I'm going to kill all three of us!" "Calm down, have some dip." "Honey, it's the police. They have a search warrant, and the three hundred kilos of cocaine are still sitting out in the living room." Here's something nobody wants to hear. Nobody wants to hear this. Try to think back to when this was appropriate to your life.

You and your fiancÚ have been invited to your mom and dad's house for dinner for the first time. Half way through dinner, your fiancÚ stands up and says, "I'll be right back, I gotta take a dump." There seems to be no really genteel way of announcing publicly a dump. And frankly, I'm not impressed with people who tell me what they're going to do when they go to the bathroom in the first place. Doesn't that bother you? People who announce it. "I'll be right back, I'm going to take a shit!" "Nevermind! Do what you have to do and leave me out of it. And don't describe it when you come back." "Boy, you should have seen..." "Nevermind!" "It set off the smoke alarm." "Nevermind!"

Have you ever been in a serious social situation, when you suddenly realize you have to pull the underwear out of the crack in your ass. "You take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?" "Huh? Who her? Oh, hell yeah." Well, it's one life's little moments, isn't it? It's one of those little moments you have to deal with at the time. You've got to get in there and clear that thing out. You've got to rescue your underwear. There's a letter in your mailbox. That's right.

You ever been at a really loud party. I mean a good loud party, where the music is playing too loud, and everybody is talking too loudly, and in order to be heard even by the person standing right next to you, you've got to be screaming at the top of you lungs. But every now and then at a party, it seems as though everyone shuts up at the same time...and only you voice...can be heard. "Right, I know. I know. Well, what I'm going to do, I'm gonna have my testicles laminated." Life's little moments.

You ever been talking to someone and you laugh through your nose and blow a snot on your shirt. And you have to just kind of keep talking you know. And make believe it's part of the design. Works all right if your wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but otherwise they're gonna notice. "Ed, you got a big snot on your shirt!" Some guys are really cruel you know? And some of these things are not even you fault. These little things that happen, you didn't cause the situation. A lot of times your the victim. You walk into some situation and suddenly your the one who's taking all the heat. Not your fault. Give you an example of the kind of thing I mean. Did you ever meet somebody, and you go to shake the guy's hand. Then you suddenly realize, he doesn't have a complete hand. And you got to make believe it feels great. Right? You can't go aaaaaaahhhhhh waaaaaaahhhhhhh waaaaaahhhhhhh. You can't do that. It's not even an option. You've got to hang in there and say, "Hi. Hey swell hand. Give me three! (boooomp boooomp boooomp boooomp boomp boomp boooomp) High three! Yo! (boomp) Not your fault. You didn't cause that. You weren't even there when it happened to the guy.

You were probably out walking your dog, which is what I'm usually doing. Walking my dog. Cause I love my dog. I love all my dogs. I love every dog I ever had. I remember em all. And I love every one of them. Still love all my dogs, and I've had me a lot of goddam dogs. In my lifetime, I have had me a bunch of different dogs. Because you do keep getting a new dog don't you? You just keep getting one dog right after another. That's the whole secret of life. Life...is a series of dogs. It's true! You just keep getting a new dog, don't you? That's what's good about them. They don't live too long. And you can go get a new goddam dog. Sometimes, you can get a dog that looks exactly like the dog you used to have. Right? You shop around a little bit, and you find a dog identical to your former dog. And that's real handy cause you don't have to change the pictures on your mirror or anything. Right? You just bring the dead one into the pet shop. Throw him up on the counter and say, "Give me another one of them. That was real good." And they'll give you a carbon copy of your ex-goddam dog.

Now my favorite dog that I ever had in my whole lifetime was Tippy. Tippy was a good dog. Some of you remember I've talked about Tippy. Tippy was a good dog. Tippy was a mixed terrier. You know that word mixed...that the veterinarian puts on the form...when even he don't know what the fuck you got. You bring in a little mixed puppy to a veterinarian and say, "What is it?" He'll say, "Well, it's definitely not a monkey. Tippy was actually part dodge dart. Poor Tippy was full of guilt. So much so, in fact, she's the only dog I ever had who committed suicide. Yeah, well, we don't say it like that around the house. We say she put herself to sleep. But she ran out in front of a milk truck. That's fucking suicide! But that was her decision. That's what Tippy wanted to do. And that's the way it is in our family. If you want to commit suicide, we back you up. So we supported Tippy in her little suicide decision, then we brought her into the pet shop, threw her up on the counter and said, "Give us something bigger, were trading up. We was looking for a bigger goddam dog." Cause Tippy had been teeny. Even before the truck came by. Truck had made her teenier. Ha. Wider, but teenier. And we was looking for a bigger goddam dog. Not too big, you know? I don't like a dog who's bigger than I am. It's bad enough looking for shit in one direction, without having to duck flying turds as well. A good rule of thumb is keep the dog's asshole below eye-level. So we compromised, and we got us a mid-sized dog. Knee-high, just about like this size here.

Best size dog you can own by the way. Most people know this is the ideal size dog to have. You know why, anybody comes to visit you, the first thing that dog does is take his nose and put it, (click) right in their crotch. Ooooooooo...Oooohoohooo...he smells my dog. No. "No Marge, I don't believe that's the animal he has in mind." And people get embarrassed by that, don't they? Especially the owner of the dog. The owner gets more embarrassed than the other person. Saying, "Stop that! Will you stop that! Stop it! I'm awfully sorry about this." Not me! I'll say, "Get in there and get some of that. Get in there and stiff that thing out, go on." "Listen, would you mind spreading your legs a little bit...so he can get right in there. Okay, looking good now. So how's your mom and dad doing anyway? Well, god bless them, they's a wonderful couple." Say, "go around in the back, check it out in the back now, sniff that other thing in the back there." "What's that? Well there's two different smells he likes, what can I tell you? Huh? Don't pay him no attention, he'll be finished in about a half an hour." "So listen reverend...it's real nice of you to come and call on us like this. Everyone is always glad to see you around here. Especially that goddam dog." Those dogs are great, they'll break the ice when a new neighbor comes to call. "Hi were the Jooohhhnsons. What's his name?" "Ballsniffer. He's a Crotch-hound. Let me know if you want to get circumcised, he on duty till five o'clock."

Dogs are a constant source of entertainment. Did you ever have a dog that ate cat turds? Some of em do. Some of you must know that. Did you ever have a dog eat cat turds? Yeah. Of course you gotta have a cat, you know? You can't be buying cat turds at the supermarket. But it's true, some dogs will eat cat turds. Yeah. Don't let them lick you that day. Get a bottle of listerine for him. Try to make him gargle. Pour it down his throat and tell him to howl. Come on howl. Howl goddam it. Stomp on his tail. Howl, I said goddam it howl.

Aww dogs are a lot of fun. Have you ever had a dog that ate a bunch of colored balloons and then he a shit and it's real decorative like. Or some times at Christmas, they'll eat some tinsel and take a shiny shit. "Wow, look mom, can we hang it on the tree?" Well, it is considered good luck in some cultures. Here's a little household hint for you. This'll help you clean up after your dog. Feed your dog a lot of rubberbands. Put a lot of rubberbands in with his regular food. Then, when he takes a shit, there's usually a little loop on the end of it. You just pick it up by the loop and...(whistle). Know what I mean? Throw it in the neighbor's yard. Yeah. That's why I travel around, give these little household hints. Bet you never read that one in Hellouise, huh?

Organ donor programs. Does that shit bother you a little bit? Sound like Joseph Mangle has been sitting in on some of those meetings or something. The thing that bothers me the most about it is, they're run by the motor vehicle bureau. I figure hey shit if you got to wait on a line that long for a kidney, fuck it. Do without. It's the motor vehicle bureau in most states who sends you the little card your supposed to carry right next to your driver's license, in your wallet. A little card, your supposed to fill it out, and on it your supposed to list the organs your willing to give in case you die. Oh, are these people out of their fucking minds or something? Do you honestly believe that if a paramedic finds that card on you in an automobile accident, he going to try to save your life? Bullshit! He's looking for parts man. Absolutely. "Look Dan, here's that lower intestine we've looking for. Nevermind the oxygen, this man's a donor." Bullshit, they can have my rectum and my anus. That's all I'm giving, take them and get out of here. Put them in your bag and get the fuck out of my life. That's all I'm giving. I don't want some guy poking around in me hoping I die, I want to live. I don't want to die. That's the whole secret of life...not dying! I figured that shit out alone in third grade.

And don't be pulling any plugs on me either. Here's another bunch of macho asshole bullshit floating around this country. People talking about, "Aw pull the plug on me. If I'm ever like that. If I'm cromatosed. If I'm like a vegetable. Pull the plug on me." Fuck you, leave my plug alone. Get an extension cord for my plug. I want everything you got, tubes, cords, plugs, probes, electrodes, IVs. You got something (click), stick it in me man. You find out I got a hole I didn't know I had, put a fuckin plug in it. Vegetable shit, I don't care if I look like an artichoke. Ssaaaaave my ass. There's three things I want if I'm ever in that condition. Three things I gotta have. Ice cream, morphine, and television. You give me that ice cream every two hours. Give me that morphine, about...every ten minutes. And turn on the fucking TV! I wanna see Heraldo! And don't be coming to visit me. I got no time for life people I'm brain-dead here. Ain't you people got no respect for the brain-dead. Hey, you gotta be brain-dead to watch Heraldo in the first place. You might as well watch it when your clinically brain-dead.

There's a different group to get pissed off at you in this country for everything your not supposed to say. Can't say Nigger, Boogie, Jig, Jigaboo, Skinhead, Moolimoolinyon, Schvatzit, Junglebunny. Greaser, Greaseball, Dago, Guinea, Whop, Ginzo, Kike, Zebe, Heed, Yid, Mocky, Himie, Mick, Donkey, Turkey, Limey, Frog. Zip, Zipperhead, Squarehead, Crout, Hiney, Jerry, Hun, Slope, Slopehead, Chink, Gook. There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of those words in and of themselves. Their only words. It's the context that counts. It's the user. It's the intention behind the words that makes them good or bad. The words are completely neutral. The words are innocent. I get tired of people talking about bad words and bad language. Bullshit! It's the context that makes them good or bad. The context. That makes them good or bad. For instance, you take the word "Nigger." There is absolutely nothing wrong with the word "Nigger" in and of itself. It's the racist asshole who's using it that you ought to be concerned about. We don't mind when Richard Pryer or Eddie Murphy say it. Why? Because we know they're not racist. Their Niggers! Context. Context. We don't mind their context because we know they're black. Hey, I know I'm whitey, the blue-eyed devil, paddy-o, fay gray boy, honkey, mother-fucker myself. Don't bother my ass. Their only words. You can't be afraid of words that speak the truth, even if it's an unpleasant truth, like the fact that there's a bigot and a racist in every living room on every street corner in this country.

I don't like words that hide the truth. I don't words that conceal reality. I don't like euphemisms, or euphemistic language. And American English is loaded with euphemisms. Cause Americans have a lot of trouble dealing with reality. Americans have trouble facing the truth, so they invent the kind of a soft language to protest themselves from it, and it gets worse with every generation. For some reason, it just keeps getting worse. I'll give you an example of that. There's a condition in combat. Most people know about it. It's when a fighting person's nervous system has been stressed to it's absolute peak and maximum. Can't take anymore input. The nervous system has either (click) snapped or is about to snap. In the first world war, that condition was called shell shock. Simple, honest, direct language. Two syllables, shell shock. Almost sounds like the guns themselves. That was seventy years ago. Then a whole generation went by and the second world war came along and very same combat condition was called battle fatigue. Four syllables now. Takes a little longer to say. Doesn't seem to hurt as much. Fatigue is a nicer word than shock. Shell shock! Battle fatigue. Then we had the war in Korea, 1950. Madison avenue was riding high by that time, and the very same combat condition was called operational exhaustion. Hey, were up to eight syllables now! And the humanity has been squeezed completely out of the phrase. It's totally sterile now. Operational exhaustion. Sounds like something that might happen to your car. Then of course, came the war in Viet Nam, which has only been over for about sixteen or seventeen years, and thanks to the lies and deceits surrounding that war, I guess it's no surprise that the very same condition was called post-traumatic stress disorder. Still eight syllables, but we've added a hyphen! And the pain is completely buried under jargon. Post-traumatic stress disorder. I'll bet you if we'd of still been calling it shell shock, some of those Viet Nam veterans might have gotten the attention they needed at the time. I'll betcha. I'll betcha.

But. But, it didn't happen, and one of the reasons. One of the reasons is because we were using that soft language. That language that takes the life out of life. And it is a function of time. It does keep getting worse. I'll give you another example. Sometime during my life. Sometime during my life, toilet paper became bathroom tissue. I wasn't notified of this. No one asked me if I agreed with it. It just happened. Toilet paper became bathroom tissue. Sneakers became running shoes. False teeth became dental appliances. Medicine became medication. Information became directory assistance. The dump became the landfill. Car crashes became automobile accidents. Partly cloudy bacame partly sunny. Motels became motor lodges. House trailers became mobile homes. Used cars became previously owned transportation. Room service became guest-room dining. And constipation became occasional irregularity. When I was a little kid, if I got sick they wanted me to go to the hospital and see a doctor. Now they want me to go to a health maintenance organization...or a wellness center to consult a healthcare delivery professional. Poor people used to live in slums. Now the economically disadvantaged occupy substandard housing in the inner cities. And they're broke! They're broke! They don't have a negative cash-flow position. They're fucking broke! Cause a lot of them were fired. You know, fired. management wanted to curtail redundancies in the human resources area, so many people are no longer viable members of the workforce.

Smug, greedy, well-fed white people have invented a language to conceal their sins. It's as simple as that. The CIA doesn't kill anybody anymore, they neutralize people...or they depopulate the area. The government doesn't lie, it engages in disinformation. The pentagon actually measures nuclear radiation in something they call sunshine units. Israeli murderers are called commandos. Arab commandos are called terrorists. Contra killers are called freedom fighters. Well, if crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fire, what do freedom fighters fight? They never mention that part of it to us, do they? Never mention that part of it.

And...and some of this stuff is just silly, we all know that, like on the airlines, they say want to pre- board. Well, what the hell is pre-board, what does that mean? To get on before you get on? They say they're going to pre-board those passengers in need of special assistance. Cripples! Simple honest direct language. There is no shame attached to the word cripple that I can find in any dictionary. No shame attached to it, in fact it's a word used in bible translations. Jesus healed the cripples. Doesn't take seven words to describe that condition. But we don't have any cripples in this country anymore. We have The physically challenged. Is that a grotesque enough evasion for you? How about differently abled. I've heard them called that. Differently abled! You can't even call these people handicapped anymore. They'll say, "Were not handicapped. Were handicapable!" These poor people have been bullshitted by the system into believing that if you change the name of the condition, somehow you'll change the condition. Well, hey cousin, ppsssspptttttt. Doesn't happen. Doesn't happen.

We have no more deaf people in this country, hearing impaired. No ones blind anymore, partially sighted or visually impaired. We have no more stupid people. Everyone has a learning disorder...or he's minimally exceptional. How would you like to be told that about your child? "He's minimally exceptional." "Oohh, thank god for that." Psychologists actually have started calling ugly people, those with severe appearance deficits. It's getting so bad, that any day now I expect to hear a rape victim referred to as an unwilling sperm recipient.

And we have no more old people in this country. No more old people. We shipped them all away, and we brought in these senior citizens. Isn't that a typically American twentieth century phrase? Bloodless, lifeless, no pulse in one of them. A senior citizen. But I've accepted that one, I've come to terms with it. I know it's to stay. We'll never get rid of it. That's what they're going to be called, so I'll relax on that, but the one I do resist. The one I keep resisting is when they look at an old guy and they'll say, "Look at him Dan! He's ninety years young." Imagine the fear of aging that reveals. To not even be able to use the word "old" to describe somebody. To have to use an antonym. And fear of aging is natural. It's universal. Isn't it? We all have that. No one wants to get old. No one wants to die, but we do! So we bullshit ourselves. I started bullshitting myself when I got to my forties. As soon as I got into my forties I'd look in the mirror and I'd say, "well, I...I guess I'm getting...older." Older sounds a little better than old doesn't it? Sounds like it might even last a little longer. Bullshit, I'm getting old! And it's okay, because thanks to our fear of death in this country, I won't have to die...I'll pass away. Or I'll expire like a magazine subscription. If it happens in the hospital, they'll call it a terminal episode. The insurance company will refer to it as negative patient-care outcome. And if it's the result of malpractice, they'll say it was a therapeutic misadventure. I'm telling you, some of this language makes me want to vomit. Well, maybe not vomit. Makes me want to engage in an involuntary personal protein spill.

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