George Carlin died on Sunday.  I'm going to miss him.  In third grade, my friend John Hudson had a little portable tape player that he would bring to school, along with some of his sister's tapes.  I heard George Carlin on the playground in 1973.  If Carlin seems rebellious and counter-culture to you, imagine how it seemed to a nine-year-old kid in a little Pennsylvania farm town.  Me, John, and Buddy Webber would huddle around that tape player, giggling and thinking we were suuuuper bad.   But truth be told, I  was so worried about getting caught that the jokes didn't really sink in.

     So, why would a middle-aged Mormon guy with small children (who also writes blogs griping about cussing on T.V.) write a blog praising George Carlin?  Because, thanks to him, I learned early on that a person can say whatever they want, out loud,  and no one can stop it.  It's as simple as opening one's mouth.   I can say whatever I want.   Maybe I'm right.  Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe my comments are inappropriate.  There might be consequences.  But, I can SAY it.  If someone hears it, they might repeat it.  Revolution is a flippant remark away.