George Carlin is gone.

A text message from my girlfriend early this morning told me the news that George Carlin had died. I immediately felt terrible and rolled back over, wanting to go back to sleep and not even think about the bad news until later in the day. Just the night before, I'd gotten back home after a month on the road and was feeling a bit exhausted, ready to take a few days off and not deal with the Comedy Business for a while. With this bad news, I ended up spending the rest of the day thinking about hardly anything else, and I know I'll be having moments just like this for at least the next week or two.

George Carlin was my idol and my inspiration. Like so many comedians before me (and since), I watched him perform and wished I could do it as well as he could. I wished I could write the way he did, and I wished that I could make the lasting impression that he now leaves behind. I still do.

I remember when I saw Carlin for the very first time. I was only nine years old, and I sneaked a peak at one of his HBO specials one late night when I should have been sleeping. I didn't get a lot of the humor, but I remember that it was the first time I had heard a professional comedian using adult language like he was and absolutely killing an audience. Before that night, "dirty jokes" were just something that the older kids told at the playground. I had no idea that professional comedians used those same words to make other adults laugh the way I saw Carlin do it that night. I was so young at the time, I didn't realize that his jokes weren't just adult (or "blue" or "dirty" or what have you), they were also very smart.

Not until years later did I get exposed to Carlin again. This time, I caught the first broadcast of "What am I doing in New Jersey" on HBO. At that point, I was old enough to understand all of the humor, and I literally laughed until I cried. To this day, I consider "things to keep people on their toes" to be one of the most brilliant stand-up routines I've ever heard, even if it has never been his most popular bit. It was at that point that I was completely, 100%, a George Carlin fan, and I never missed another special after that. I bought his CDs, I picked up his back catalogue of albums, and--when he started writing them--I bought his three books. I even watched the entire season of "The George Carlin Show", his one and only attempt at a sitcom, back in the early 90s. He was, by far, the biggest comedy influence in my life.

And now he's gone.

Even as I write this, it hasn't quite sunk in yet. I've never been moved too much by the deaths of celebrities, and often have scoffed when I saw people on TV, crying their eyes out and feeling remorse at the loss of a movie star whom they never even knew. For the first time in my life, I actually get it. I never met Carlin, yet I feel as if I've known him for over twenty years. After all, I've been learning all about him for that long, letting him into my home and letting him inspire my career as long as I can remember. How could I not feel as if I've lost someone close to me?

Carlin was so much more than just a great comedian. He was also an advocate of free speech, and his battles in that arena paved the way so that comedians such as myself can continue to have a career at all. He showed the world that a comedian can say things that are considered taboo and not only be funny to smoky club audiences, but the masses, as well. He showed that comedy can be vulgar whilst still managing to be smart. He showed that the comedy road didn't have to end with a sitcom, but could be paved forever on the stage, and that a comedian didn't have to get worse with age, but could actually improve as life rolled along.

In an interview about fifteen years ago, I remember Carlin discussing his age and his (then) approaching sixties. "Why would I quit doing something I've spent years trying to perfect?" was essentially his response to the idea of retirement, and he was true to his word. He was still performing constantly, having produced yet another HBO special a mere months before he died. That alone far outweighs the achievements of the average comedian, even if all that had come before did not already do so a hundred times over. If I could only hope to accomplish that, my career would be one that any comic half my age would envy.

I'm so sad that Carlin is gone. Sad because I never got to meet him, shake his hand, and tell him how much he meant to me as both a comedian and a guy sitting in the audience. Sad because I know there was more in him that he had left to say that I (and countless others) wanted to hear. Mostly, I'm sad because I know that there isn't a successor to his throne anywhere and sight and, quite possibly, never will be.

The comedy world is so different now than it was in Carlin's heyday, and I don't know that we'll ever see anything like him again. Great comedians come along all the time, but a guy like George was one of a kind. Plenty of people are funny, plenty of people are smart. Only Carlin had the power to really convince me that he was both at the same time, without being pompous doing so. Only Carlin had the ability to make me think one minute about the existence of God, while the next minute having me laughing about the power of a fart in a crowded room. I'm sure others will try, but I'll only end up comparing them to him.

So, goodbye, George. I'd like to think that, had we met, we would have gotten along very well and you'd have had a lot to tell me. I'm lucky that, despite the fact our paths never crossed, I still got to learn so much from you and so much about all things funny. I will remember that first time I saw you, and all the other times in between, when you had me laughing and sometimes blushing at the your ability to tell the world to "fuck off"...and yet still make the world love you anyway.

Maybe, one day, I'll be lucky enough to do the same.