George Carlin - Napalm and Silly Putty

Attending college at a place called Bob Jones University is like putting your money in Nick & Tony’s Bank.

I think what the authorities need is a SQUAT team. Here’s how it would work: A squad of heavily armed police break into the house and take a shit in the living room.

Burma is now called Myanmar, Ceylon is Sri Lanka, and Upper Volta is Burkina Faso. How can they do that? How can they just change the name of a country? It doesn’t seem right to me.

The Jews are smart; they don’t have a hell.

No one ever says “half a week,” although obviously there is such a thing. As in, “I’ll be back in a week and a half.”

You know who would make an interesting murder–suicide? Madeleine Albright and Yanni.

When they print the years of someone’s birth and death, can you resist figuring out how old they were?

I hope reincarnation is a fact so I can come back and fuck teenagers again.

Let me tell you something, if we ever have a good, useful, real-life revolution in this country, I’m gonna kill a whole lot of motherfuckers on my list. For purposes of surprise, I’m not revealing the names at this time.

If a centipede wants to kick another centipede in the shins, does he do it one leg at a time? Or does he stand on fifty of his legs and kick with the other fifty?

McDonald’s says “100 Billion Served.” Bullshit, they hand them to you. There’s a difference.

Why is it a pile of dirty clothes is called “the laundry”? “I’m about to do the laundry.” And then, when it comes out of the machine, it’s still called “the laundry”? “I just did the laundry.” What’s the deal here? Is laundry clean or dirty?

The reason county fairs don’t have kissing booths anymore is because someone noticed that a lot of the men in line had hard-ons.

Wouldn’t you like to read some of the things they found in the suggestion box after a meeting of the Aryan Brotherhood?

This year for the Oscars and Emmys I wore my usual outfit: filthy underwear. I enjoy television a lot more when I’m comfortably dressed.

Regarding “safe and sound”: I’ve often been safe, but seldom have I been thought of as sound.

True Stuff:There is actually an auto race called the Goody’s Headache Powder 500.

I think Kleenex ought to put a little bull’s eye right in the middle of the tissue. Wouldn’t that be great? Especially when you’re hangin’ out with your buddies:(KNNERRFFF! SNGOTT!) “Look, Joey, an 85!”

Dusting is a good example of the futility of trying to put things right. As soon as you dust, the fact of your next dusting has already been established.

What exactly is a wingding?

When Thomas Edison worked late into the night on the electric light, he had to do it by gas lamp or candle. I’m sure it made the work seem that much more urgent.

Have you noticed that in the movies lately a popular thing to do is stick someone’s head in the toilet and flush the toilet repeatedly? Where did that come from? They never used to do that. You never saw Spencer Tracy stick Henry Fonda’s head in the toilet. Maybe Katharine Hepburn’s, but not Henry Fonda’s.

A stone’s throw is much farther than a hop, skip, and a jump, but it’s not nearly as far as a whoop, a holler, and a stomp.

Amusement parks should have a ride where people are pursued by the police at high speed, and when they’re caught they’re beaten and tortured.

When you think about it, attention deficit disorder makes a lot of sense. In this country there isn’t a lot worth paying attention to.

Why do they call one sport “women’s tennis,” and then turn around and call the other one “ladies’ golf”?

Once a year they should have No Hairpiece Day. So everyone could see what all these baldy-headed, fake-hair jerkoffs really look like.

Who decides when the applause should die down? It seems like it’s a group decision; everyone begins to say to themselves at the same time, “Well, okay, that’s enough of that.”

I’m tired of these one-sided heavyweight fights. I think Mike Tyson should just go ahead and fight a leopard. At least it would be an even match. And I wish he would bite more people. God, that was great. I think it would be fun if he just started biting people on the street for no reason.

As a child, I used to wonder if Charlie McCarthy had little wooden balls.

Have you ever selected an item in the supermarket and put it in someone else’s cart? Then you realize what you’re doing and you get sort of an alien feeling?

“Wait! This is not my cart. Look at this! Brown our and sheep entrails. God, I almost put my capers in this cart. Where’s mine? Oh, there it is! The one with the tapioca cupcakes and the mango popsicles. Thank God.”

Or have you ever started to walk off with someone else’s cart?

“Hey! That’s my stuff!”

You have to think fast. “Not yet it isn’t! It’s not paid for. Technically, these things still belong to all of us. And if I feel like shopping out of your cart, that’s what I’ll do. Let’s see, any organic scallions in there? What’s this? Elk milk? That’ll be just fine. You may leave now.”

I’ve found the best way to shop for food is to work up a really big appetite. Fast for several days, smoke a couple of joints, take $700…and go to the supermarket! It’s great. You buy everything!

“Wow, canned bread! Just what I need!”

And all the good things, the things you really love and can’t do without? Well, you buy two of them, because you know you’re going to eat one of them on the way home at a red light.

Shopping hungry is great; you just keep loading things into your cart. But then, after several aisles, you realize you may have overdone it: You find yourself pushing a motorcade of three carts, all tied together with long loops of string cheese. Once again, you’ve lost control.

And so, as you realize you don’t have enough money to pay for everything, you begin to put back some of the more expensive items. Like meat.

“Meat? Twenty-seven dollars? Bullshit! I’ll put back these steaks and grab a few more pound cakes. The kids shouldn’t be eating meat, anyway.”

The nicest thing about putting things back in the supermarket is that you can put them anywhere you want. No one cares. You can leave the Robitussin next to the ham hocks and stick the marshmallows in with the Bacon Bits. They don’t care. They have people who come around at midnight to straighten that stuff out, and in the morning everything is back where it belongs.

By the way, next time you shop at a supermarket in a neighborhood that has higher than average marijuana use, take a look at the cookie section. Combat zone. Half the packages have been opened, and all the really good cookies are gone.

“Where the hell are the Mallomars?”

“Oh, we can’t get Mallomars into the store. Folks line up at the loading dock for Mallomars.”

There are always plenty of crappy cookies. You ever notice that? Shitty, low-priced local cookies? Like “Jim’s Home-Style Cookies. Twenty-six varieties.” I say, “Damn, Jim, if you can’t make cookies in twenty-five tries leave me out.”

Time to head home, folks. Let’s get on the checkout line here and read People magazine. By the way, I must admit I’m a real sucker on the checkout line. I’m an impulse buyer. Anything that’s on display, I want it. I even buy things other people leave behind.