George Carlin - Napalm and Silly Putty

You know one of the biggest rip-offs in the world? Flowers. They grow free all over the world, and yet we pay for them. And then they die. That seems strange. Flowers are one of the few things we buy, bring home, watch die, and we don’t ask for our money back. Normally, we’d be screaming at a merchant over something like that: “Hey, what kind of shit is this? Gimme my money back! The fuckin’ things keeled over right on the piano!”

The caterpillar does all the work, but the butterfly gets all the publicity.

Tits always look better in a pink sweater.

You know what you don’t see enough of on television? A good parachute accident. It’s kinda fun.

Ask your dry cleaner if he can remove the stains from one pair of pants and put them in another. He should be able to do that for the same amount of money. While you’re in there, ask if he can remove semen from a wedding veil. That’s the test of a really good drycleaner.

To me, fast food is when a cheetah eats an antelope.

Two men whose names you see a lot on air-conditioner dials: Norm and Max.

Have you ever been kissing someone, and one of you has a snot that’s whistling? It takes your mind off the sex, because it requires a three-step solution. First of all, you have to figure out whose nose it’s in. Then you have to determine which nostril. Finally, someone has to dig in there and, if not remove it completely, at least push it to one side so it doesn’t whistle any more. By the way, during all this activity the man usually loses his hard-on.

A crumb is a great thing: If you break a crumb in half you don’t get two half-crumbs, you get two crumbs. Doesn’t that violate some law of physics?

I think I am, therefore, I am. I think.

Have you ever noticed that when you’re torturing a person, after a while you get real tired and you don’t know what to do to him next? Then you think of something, and you sort of get your energy back?

Any man with a small moustache wearing a bow tie and a loud vest is an asshole.

A cat will blink when struck with a hammer.

Reception lines would be a lot more interesting if instead of shaking hands, people greeted each other with a kick in the groin.

The reason the mainstream is thought of as a stream is because of its shallowness.

Actual bumper sticker: HORN BROKE—WATCH FOR FINGER.

Fun at the ballpark: Y’ever notice a lot of guys bring a glove to the game to catch a foul ball? Never mind that, bring a bat! When a foul ball comes flying toward you, BAM! Hit it back to the players. Everyone will sense you’re a fun fan. They’ll be glad they came to the ballpark on straitjacket night.

I read somewhere that for the average person fourteen farts a day are considered normal. Based on these figures, and judging from my own output, I have to assume there are millions of people who never fart at all.

I don’t have a fear of heights. I do, however, have a fear of falling from heights.

Isn’t it a good feeling when you read the tabloids and realize that a lot of famous people are just as fucked up as you are?

The justice system should have a penalty whereby they send you to prison, and for ten years the guards take turns doing that Three Stooges, jabbing-two-fingers-in-your-eyes thing. I think that would straighten a lot of guys out.

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I noticed in the newspaper that track and field has an event called the women’s pole vault. It makes me wonder: With all the options available to her in this age, how does a young woman get interested in pole-vaulting? It seems like a bizarre choice. By the way, I hope you noticed I completely ignored the obvious opportunity for a cheap phallic joke.

If I ever lose my mind I hope some honest person will find it and take it to Lost and Found.

In some hotels they give you a little sewing kit. You know what I do? I sew the towels together. One time I sewed a button on a lampshade. I like to leave a mark.

What’s wrong with America: There are schools in Fairfax County, Virginia, where kids are not allowed to win soccer games. Whenever a team gets two goals ahead they have to give up one player. Pathetic.

The Asian country known as Mongolia used to be called Outer Mongolia. And just below the Outer Mongolian border with China there was an autonomous region called Inner Mongolia. And since each of them had its own inner and outer regions, that means that at one time there existed, fairly close to one another, an “outer Inner Mongolia” and an “inner Outer Mongolia.” I like that sort of thing. I like picturing the road signs and all the people taking wrong turns.

When someone with an artificial heart dies, I think they should take out the heart, hook it up to an artificial body, and let it go at that.

I never bite my nails; I consider it a health risk. Instead, I twist my nails off with pliers and burn away any excess tissue with a cigarette lighter.

Everyone knows by now, sports is big business. But the major sports have grown boring and predictable, and the public has become jaded. So I’m suggesting a few changes that would add excitement to the games and increase their entertainment value.

Take Me Out to the Hospital

Baseball has one major problem: not enough serious injuries. A lot of baseball’s so-called injuries are just “a strained this” or “a sore whatchamacallit.” In today’s culture that’s not good enough. Fans are crying out for someone to be hurt really badly.

So, to raise the injury level, what I would do is place thirty to forty land mines in the out field; the kind of mines that spray thousands of tiny nails when they explode. Not only would this add excitement, it would also provide a refreshing element of surprise: “There’s a high, lazy fly ball to right field. O’Neill drifts over, pats his glove…” BOOOOOOM! “Holy fuckin’ shit! Oh, good Lord! Oh, precious, precious Lord!”

Baseball is also accused of being too slow. Here’s something that would not only speed up the game but also provide a welcome opportunity for serious injuries. Like most good ideas, it’s uncomplicated: if the pitcher hits the batter with the ball, the batter is out. That’s it. A simple idea, but it could make quite a difference.

And maybe if the ball hits the batter in the head it could be a double play. I don’t know, I’m not an expert on rules. But it’s certainly worth a try. And just think: a good “control pitcher” could have a perfect game just by hitting twenty-seven guys in a row. In fact, if you had two quality pitchers out there, the fans could be out of that ballpark in half an hour, on their way home to watch football on TV. Where they could see some serious goddamn injuries.

Gettin’ My Kicks

Now, football. For many of you fans, football is already a perfect game. Its particular combination of speed, strategy, and brute force seems just right for the American psyche. But even a well-thought-out game like football can use a little help from a fun-loving guy like me.

I would start by improving the coin toss, by making it a full-contact event. While the coin is in the air, the team captains should be allowed to kick the officials. It would get things going on a positive note. Remember, this is a sport that owes its origin to the practice of English soldiers playfully kicking around the head of a Dane during the lulls in combat.

Now, to the game itself. I think football should limit itself to only one rule: Each down begins in an orderly manner. That’s it. After that, the players should be allowed to do whatever they want. If there’s a fight, you move it off to one side of the field. Let it run its course; no restrictions. If several 300-pound linemen are crippling a placekicker, fine. Let them continue. We shouldn’t be trying to suppress the natural exuberance of athletes. Keep in mind these men are physical freaks, full of drugs and anger, and they’re here to entertain us. They enjoy being injured; let them go about their business.