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george carlin - death and dying lyrics

jeez, i hope i don’t die. oh, by the way, you’re all going to die. didn’t mean to remind you of it, but.. ah.. it is on your schedule. won’t come when you want, it’s always off a little. “what, now here on the freeway?” “um-hmm.” “thought surely i’d be home lying down.”

comics are supposed to worry about dying, ya know? “i don’t want to die out there, man. jeez, i was dying. it was death out there. like a morgue.”

on the other hand, if he succeeds, if he makes you laugh he can say, “i killed ’em. knocked them dead.”

why is there so much violence mixed up with comedy, you know, which should be so much fun. it’s all dying and bombing. he bombed! or else he was a riot! a real scream, “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! “i cracked up laughing and he broke me up too!! i busted a gut laughing!! my friend was in st-tches!! he fractures me with his punchlines and his gags!! [gag] slapstick!! knee-slappin’, side-splittin’, rib-splittin’, gut-bustin’……laugh? i thought i’d die”

but, i just want to tell you about regular dying. plain old cacking out. some people think cacking out means to go to sleep. dying. the big cackeroo! we’re all going to go, when will it be?

you know, it should be, instead of sort of a fear thing, it should be sort of fun. kind of a…you know, the next big adventure. we’re gonna find out where we go. that’s what we all been talking about, “where the h-ll do you go?” “i don’t know. you must go somewhere, maybe” “phil had an idea…” “i know, i heard phil” “but where do you go?” “i don’t know”

you’re gonna find out. hope it isn’t nowhere, man. think you go where you think you’re gonna go. whatever you dwell on. did you ever hear those guys, “oh don’t pray for me, don’t waste your prayers on me. i’m going to h-ll” he is! if monty hall dies he’ll probably go behind door #4. whatever you think.

suicide is for people who can’t wait to find out where the h-ll it is you go, “holy sh-t, i been waiting a long time” i don’t have many nights like that. but when you think about it,you know, -mumbling- suicide. i always pictured myself on the ledge. there’s gotta be a little show business involved. you know, you don’t wanna slump over a porcelin fixture. “let me get up here.. hey-y-y-y-y-y!” set the record, be the first guy to reach the double yellow line. have you picture in the centerfold of the newspaper. actually, a picture of the building with a dotted line showing “leaper’s path” suicide!

suppose you worked on the suicide hotline. helping people talk them out of it. that’s your job, “h-llo, suicide hotline.” and one morning you wake up a little depressed. should you can in sick?

i’d like to see a top salesman commit suicide. a really persuasive guy up on the ledge. and the priest talks him out of it. and he talks the priest in to it.

people say maybe you’ll come back. reincarnation. do you think so? well, it doesn’t seem mathematically possible to me, man. ah, ’cause at one time all we had on the earth was 6 people, you know. i avoid 2 because it’s controversial, but 6. most people will agree, “oh f-ck ya, we had 6 at one time, yeah” 6 people, 6 souls. cool! they died, souls went back to the place. 6 new people, souls -whew- still 6 souls. now we have 4 billion people claiming to have souls. someone is printing up souls. and it lowers their value, you know.

when i die, i don’t wanna go through that funeral sh-t. funeral. hey, when you die you get more popular than you’ve ever been. in you’re whole life. you get more flowers when you die than you ever got at all. they all arrive at once too late. and people say the nicest things about you, they’ll make sh-t up if they have to man, “oh yeah, he’s an -sshole but a well meaning -sshole” “yeah poor bill is dead.” “yeah poor bill is dead.” “poor tom is gone” “yeah, poor tom” “poor john died” “yeah, john” “what about ed?” “no ed, that motherf-cker? he’s still alive man!” “get him outta here!” you’re approval curve goes way up, man.

you might just be in one of those funerals where you’re lying in the coffin, you know, folks looking at you, they… “open it up, i want to see him!” and you’re lying there. and they come by. the first thing they do, after blessing themselves if they do that, is subtract their age from your age. figure at a minimum what they have still to live. they don’t know you’re lying there with no back in your jacket and short pants on. sh-t. embarr-ssed by the rouge. and they say, “jeez, don’t he look good.” “he’s dead, man” “i know, but he never looked that good!”

i don’t wanna have a funeral like that. and i don’t wanna be cremated, either. i wanna be blown up! -boom!- “there he goes!! god love him!!”

i figured out a way to commit the perfect murder. again, you know, you gotta think of something. you pick one guy up by his ankles, and you kill another guy with him. they both die and there’s no murder weapon, man. “what happened here, sarge?” “i don’t know, it looks like a pedestrian accident to me.” “they must’ve been moving at quite a clip!”

suppose you’re on death row. they gotta give you that meal. that last meal. they don’t wanna hear elephant steaks and sh-t like that, but within reason, your last meal, man. and suppose you can’t decide between steak and lobster. that’s it. can’t decide, i don’t know. polygraph, truth serum… man doesn’t know. 6 months alive, can’t decide. they’d have to let you live, they can drag you down the last mile screaming, “i can’t decide!” and then one day, finally, “okay, alright, okay…..give me the steak” “now, how did you want that cooked?” “ahhhhhh, i dunno”

they say you have a flashback just before you die. see your life over again, kind of a little movie, little news reel, “ta-da-da…ta-da…ta-da-da” again, it doesn’t seem mathematically possible, hmm? okay. you’re out in the surf. -gasp- second, third time. -gasp- you’re about to die, then the movie starts, “ta-da-da…ta-da…ta-da-da” now you’ve gotta see the whole movie including the ending which involves arriving at the beach, walking out into the surf and having the movie start. you gotta see it again. thanks to the movie we can never die, man.

well i say if you’re gonna die, die big. entertain those you leave behind. posthumous reflexes. you know. dying takes place in the stages and not all the electrical energy in your brain is discharged when you’re dead. every now and then a corpse goes.. -snort- veterans know, “no, no that’s just electricity.” and i say if we have this possibility, let’s plan those reflexes. do something entertaining. roll over on the autopsy table. cross your legs, scratch your b-lls. do something. be fun. but you can entertain and the only reason i suggest that you can..ah..have something to do with the way you die is a little known and less understood portion of death called the two minute warning. obviously many of you don’t know about it. but just as in football, two minutes before you die, there is an audible warning:

“two minutes, get your sh-t together!”

and the reason we don’t know about it is cause the only people who hear it die! and they don’t have a chance to explain, you know. i don’t think we’d listen anyway. but there is a two minute warning and i say use those two minutes. entertain, uplift, do something. give a two minute speech. everyone has a two minute speech in them. something you know, something you love. your vacation, man. two minutes. really do it well. alot of feeling, alot of spirit and built wax eloquent for the first time. reach a peak. with about 5 second left, tell them, “if this is not the truth, may god strike me dead!” from then on you command much more attention.

maybe you’ll get your two minute warning when you’re in the office. get up and start your own funeral collection. “what’s the record, bill? i’d like to top the record.” “whatever your motive.”

you might be at an exercise program. get up and volunteer for something strenuous. do the lyndi hops and refuse to stop when they do. tell them you have a new exercise, the hindu death exercise. jump til you die.

maybe you’ll get your two minute warning when you’re in the audience at a faith healer’s program. “two minutes!!” get up and get on line with the healees. tell them you got the w-ll–s. n-body know what the w-ll–s look like anyway, man. just get on line and time it right, 15 seconds and you kneel down and she puts her hands on your shoulder and you die!! “got me!”

evangelist slays worshipper: 50,000 look on. police sift clues.

that’s what they do, man. sift clues

- george carlin lyrics

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