Turns Out He Was The One Who Was Diseased

Or
It Was Bad For Him

Or
Hope he Enjoys the View from the Roof

Or
Baseball Is Played in a Park, Taps is Played at a Graveyard
(Props to Joe, laughing through the tears)
George Carlin has not passed on, like a driver going around another car; expired, like a magazine subscription, experienced a terminal episode or taken a therapeutic misadventure. He simply died, at 71 years old, seven words even more unpleasant than his single most famous routine. Starting as a typical comedy act with characters like Al Sleet the hippy-dippy weatherman: “The weather was dominated by a large Canadian low, which is not to be confused with a Mexican high. Tonight’s forecast . . . dark, continued mostly dark tonight turning to widely scattered light in the morning.” When his act took a counterculture bent with biting and profane social satire, observations on absurdities of life, the joys of drugs and the an all-out assault on the euphemisms and complexities of the American language, he emerged as one of the most influential comedians of all time. He was to have received the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor in November. Few things escaped his wrath, especially religion – where he gave up his Roman Catholic upbringing for his own religion: Frisbeetarianism, where when a person dies, his soul gets flung up on a roof, never to be retrieved. He worshipped the sun, because he could actually see it and prayed to Joe Pesci because "he's a good actor", and "looks like a guy who can get things done!” He also actively rooted for natural disasters as the planet’s revenge for pollution, deforestation, strip mining and overfishing.