Last night, legendary comedian George Carlin passed away of heart failure.

I have been a pretty big fan of the guy since I was a kid, and I can’t help but think what a shame it is to have lost such a hysterical guy.  He was 71, but he never seemed to slow down or run out of material.  Some have said that he got more cynical as he aged, but aside from his squeaky-clean early days, the man was always pretty pessimistic about the human condition.   But he was more than just a cynic, he was a genius at picking apart the weird facets of American life, the things that made no sense, and the strange word choices in our language.  And of course, when he did those things, he made you laugh.  A lot.

I remember going to see him live when I was a teenager (Thanks, Samantha!) and laughing so hard that my side hurt.  I remember sneaking away to read his book when I worked at the local library.  And I remember buying his albums and busting them out on the long drives to and from Ithaca, though only if I was alone, because I hated it when people would talk over George Carlin. I watched his short lived sitcom, I loved him in the Bill and Ted movies (though I was upset that he was barely in Bogus Journey), and I was super stoked when he played Munchie on The Simpsons.  I even got a little giddy just the other day, when while watching Cars for the first time, I heard his voice as the hippie VW van Fillmore.

In his most recent HBO special, “It’s Bad For Ya,” he reflected, as he often did, on his thoughts about religion.  In case anyone missed it, George did not believe in religion, G-d, or an afterlife, joking instead about worshiping the sun and possibly Joe Pesci.  Well, I hope that when he showed up in Heaven last night, he looked around, turned to G-d and said, “No hard feelings?”  Or probably something much funnier than that.