George Carlin was a badass, plain and simple.

If you think you can argue that fact, you’re purely an idiot, a victim of the wimpization of modern culture. And if you don’t know who George Carlin is, you’re also an idiot and most likely wimpified by default of your own ignorance.

Before we move on, I made up the word wimpization. Because I’m writing about George Carlin, I feel I have the liberty to make up words.

The U.S. is being ransacked by simple-minded douchebags. Nowadays, the skin of our nation is so soft that popping a zit on its blemished face would induce profuse bleeding. Then, instead of nursing the pockmark the old way, with a little spit and a pat with the inside of a T-shirt, the wounded would ask for a Band-Aid or a bailout. The government should just start passing out tampons because the Statue of Liberty is on her period.

Pussydemic.

It’s goddamn pathetic. If I’ve offended any Bible thumpers with my in-vain vocabulary, feel free to throw the good book at me.

George had the power to illuminate the failures of our society through humor, sending the notion of patriotism into a tailspin. George was a real American, a man who understood what the founding principles of this country were, before they were pissed on by politicians and constituents alike. George had the kind of balls AC/DC’s Bon Scott shrieks about in the song “Big Balls.”

George wasn’t afraid to be entertained by the war in Iraq, either of them, citing America’s favorite pastime, “bombing brown people,” as the sole purpose for engaging in battle. He noted the positive effects.

Furthermore, George wasn’t scared to mock mainstream news for fear-mongering, scaring our grandparents indoors with terrorist threats and pandemic propaganda. Now, in George’s absence, there are facemasks for sale at CVS and Walgreens in fear of swine flu. I pulled up next to an old lady last week who was driving a Cadillac Escalade, wearing a swine flu facemask. Can anyone appreciate the irony in that situation? Or should I say stupidity.

Pansyitis.

What’s happening in America is an outbreak of political correctness, a notion George assassinated like American forces who target insurgents and pirates. Notorious lawyer and civil rights activist Richard Olivito, an Ohio native, told me personally that political correctness is plaguing the nation, burying the truth in the process. This man’s life has been threatened because of his stance on social issues and his actions against injustice. He doesn’t walk on eggshells when stating his beliefs.

But now, to be patriotic in America means to sit down, shut up and take whatever earmarked or pork-barreled bullshit that comes out of Washington right up the sphincter. Lively debate doesn’t exist anymore because people’s feelings get hurt. Activism is dead thanks to the digital demise of our society. Fat pricks with a modem and a Frosty from Wendy’s can pretend to have a voice by starting a Facebook group or a blog.

Weaklingorrhea.

I miss George Carlin. I miss his passion. I miss his wit. I miss his intelligence. I miss his vulgarity. My Allah, he was a vulgar son of a bitch, and I thank Buddha for that.

People forget: When passion is the driving force behind a message, the person delivering that message might let some profane realness escape his or her lips. George did that. He brought beauty to “dirty” words by showing their versatility, by using them in ways that evoked passion from him and his audiences in the form of laughter.

The funny thing about George, besides his many books and his immortalized-in-video stand-up comedy acts, is the fact he thought he was a bad American. He said he’s a bad American because he likes to do this thing called “thinking.”

“I’m not a very good American because I like to form my own opinions,” George said. “I don’t just roll over when I’m told to.”

God bless George Carlin.

Oh, and America, too.

Darren D’Altorio is a senior magazine journalism major and columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Contact him at [email protected].