Monday, June 23, 2008

Preboarding the post-funct express

Aw c'mon, George's humor was never ill. - Sheila Lennon.

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Anonymous ikorush sikorsky said...

One of my earliest, still accessible childhood memories - if are such things as memories, rather than the memory of memories, is of listening, from an exile down the hall, to my father and uncle snickering during a spin of Carlin's "Class Clown" on one those huge wooden console stereos they used to mass-produce in the sixties. Next day, home from school, pawing through the record stack, plotting an opportunity for me and my brother to listen.

I don't know why they call him counterculture - he was working class, late-bloomed into hippiedom like the rest, the funny fucker you knew from the warehouse, the taxi-stand or the nursing home, only times ten.

6/25/2008 12:33 AM  
Blogger Tom Matrullo said...

He was that, but I guess he crossed the line - the magic media line from taxi-stand to stage and said 'fuck' and that rendered him counterkultur because how else could officialdom shut him down/up?

There is the rub with memory - do we remember or remember remembering? The memory of George's mummery, the mummification of mind's mammary.

6/25/2008 9:36 AM  

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