Somebody made me a paper homage to George Carlin - newspaper photos taped onto a Carlin-themed comic strip. It's on the wall, to the right of my desk. I just looked at it. Only three people seemed to realize, or care, that I gave a shit about George Carlin dying. Perhaps I'm being harsh. If I were a singer, should I presume people would offer me their condolences if Barbara Streisand died?

A Place for My Stuff  - that was the name of the first album of George's that I heard. I stole it from Music Plus, formally in Reseda. The title track was my favorite. I memorized it, and recited it to family and tape recorder.  "That's all your house is, a place to keep your stuff, while you go out and get MORE STUFF!" I also enjoyed, "Backward words say to used I. Again go I there. Shit oh." "The following statement is true. The preceding statement is false." I just thought it was all so clever. And in my family, clever was highly regarded, as was humor itself.

George was my first stand-up comedy influence. I finally went to see him in Long Beach about a year ago. Sadly, as I watched him, I thought to myself, "He doesn't look like he has much longer." Monday morning June 23rd 9am, as I drove my car, I heard a radio announcement. I was floored. It was very sad news. I thought of Long Beach.  

I have no idea where my stand-up comedy career is taking me. Thus far, it's taken me to Japan, and now, to five countries in the Middle-East.

Thank you Allah.

And thank you George Carlin.