So for no other reasons than I recently re-read Brain Droppings, I decided to scrawl out a collection of Carlin-esque witticisms, without his estate's permission, consent, written approval or so much as proper notice. Fuck it. It might be what he wanted-maybe even likely-but either way he can't say anything about it. He's dead, and it's Fair Use For Parody. God rest his irreverent heathen soul.
People often ask me, "Chris, how do you reconcile your passionate religious beliefs with your love of guns and violence?" And I always say "I pistol whip anyone who brings it up."
Sometimes you have to wonder-does anyone at all know what the fuck they are doing?
You know that thing that happens, when you're strangling someone from behind with a piece of rusty chicken wire, and they shit their pants when they die? And its all runny, and gets all over your pants. I fuckin' hate that. Its frankly disgusting.
I hold that the amount of cheating in modern professional sports is not a testament to our lack of morality, but to our rapidly improving forensic techniques.
No Good Conversation Ever Started With "If You Ever Want to Fuck a Chicken..."
The problem with popular opinion is essentially that everyone has to understand it.
I can never figure out why anybody thought we needed Political Correctness. I mean, if we create a society that is so pathologically afraid of being offended, how the fuck are we going to handle Chinese bayonets when they invade? Someone that gets all uppity if someone says "Sweetie" is not going to take a mortar barrage well, believe me. And I bet all those assholes that accuse people of rascism when they get fired can't build a pipe bomb. Why the fuck does anyone listen to these people?
Everything is funny if your perspective is twisted enough.
I've come to the conclusion that God loves us, but is occasionally indifferent to our suffering. I'm strangely OK with it.
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