I’ve often wondered what George Carlin would sound like if he explored the spiritual side of things?
So, being the channel I am, I asked him to come through and tell his side of the story.
I left my body and just like that, he slipped in.
Hey, it’s me again, Foul Mouthed George. How’s it going, humanity?
I’m doing great. In fact, it’s hard to be foul mouthed anymore because there’s a lot of love where I am. A whole lot of love.
I used to enjoy blending my anger with humor and making people laugh till they shit themselves. Imagine getting well paid to vent and cuss.
Now the anger that fueled my comic crusade against bullshit on earth is pretty much out of my system. But for old time’s sake, and for the fun of it, I’ll do my best, swear to George, to resurrect my anger and sound pissed.
Let me tell you why my anger at humans is a thing of the past. From where I sit now it’s plain to see that everyone is always doing their best, and if they could do better, they would. That point of view took all the steam out of my venting..
Nowadays, all I can vent is compassion. I’ve lost my edge, humanity, and I couldn’t be happier.
I even feel for rich, power hungry assholes like Trump, Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk, who I might send a new lithium battery and some jumper cables for his heart. I can also see that every government, institution, and corporation I used to hate is actually playing their part perfectly in some kind of plan. All the hypocrisy and greed I used to call bullshit on is serving some purpose in a Bigger Picture.. It’s all a little too cosmic for me, but I’m getting acclimated to it.
I guess I’m just getting spiritual in my no age.
Not religious, mind you, that would be blasphemy. I still would rather get high than join a hierarchy. But a little spirituality never hurt anyone, right?
And yeah, I do get around to helping human beings now and then. I helped Mark Manson come up with his book title, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. I also fed him ideas to help him write the goddamn book. He had no clue. Not that I need the recognition. I’m happy to be his ghost writer.
So I, spirit guide in training, get to throw my lack of weight around anywhere I see fit and lighten up various serious folks on earth, but not 24/7 like that workaholic Jesus guy.
I like some time for myself now and then. His I Am With You Always routine kind of creeps me out.
I mean Jesus F. Christ, don’t I have a right to a little privacy?
First it was the government listening and watching, and now it’s Jesus.
It’s always something!
So Jesus and I have our differences, but I do give him credit for gagging at what happened to his teachings. He doesn’t like organized religion any more than I do.
Let me tell you about another guy I hang out with up here, a really wise guy who lies down in a field with me. We smoke some weed, shoot the shit, and laugh our asses off free-styling poetry and rap.
Improv is really big where we are. Some of us formed a troupe called The Dead Comics Society. Robin Williams joined it, and some of us wish he would reincarnate already. He’s too fast. We can’t keep up with him.
My new friend, you know him as Rumi, and probably have come across his most famous quote too many times to count in the three million spiritual self-help books you can get from the corporation doing the most to cut down rainforests to make the boxes to get your shit to your doorstep overnight. Ironic name you came up with, Jeff Bozo:. Amazon! Is that short for Burning Down the Amazon?
Where was I? Oh yeah, Rumi’s quote:
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
Have you ever wondered how the hell to get to this field?
Google Maps won’t help.
Put your damn phones down anyway.
Getting there is not as easy as clicking an app, or your heels Dorothy.
You will need a guide, and because I have nothing better to do with my absence of time, I volunteer.
I’ll make it easy for you.
All you have to do is practice the four agreements.
Not the ones from Don Juan, or Don Corleone. I forget which Don.
Those agreements are way past their expiration date. Yesterday’s helpful truth is tomorrow’s pile of dogma that you best avoid stepping in.
I’m talking brand new agreements, hot out of the oven.I know, because I, Don George, cooked them up myself.
Don’t let Scott take credit for them.
Drumroll, please.
The Four Things You Must Agree to Stop Giving a Shit About To Get Your Divine Ass to Rumi’s Field
1. Agree to Stop Trying to Fit Into a Sick, Sick, Sick Society!
I ranted about this when I was alive, and it still is a no brainer. If you believe you live in a sane society that deserves your allegiance, then the best you can do is cope, you dope!
May you find an anti-depressant that helps you.
And while you are getting the prescription for it, remember to ask your doctor if conforming to insanity is right for you.
2. Agree to Stop Giving a Shit About What the Neighbors Think of You
Another no-brainer.
Go ahead and love thy neighbor, love ‘em to pieces, and bake them cookies if you want to.
But under no circumstances shalt thou give a shit about their opinions of you.
From where I am, I can see into their heads, and they are as mentally ill as you are.
Minding your own mind is challenge enough.
Never mind your neighbor’s mind.
Trust me, it’s a bad neighborhood!
3. Agree to Stop Giving a Shit About What Your Family Thinks of You
This is, I admit, an advanced lesson in not giving a shit.
Yes, care about your relatives all you want, but sharing a bond of blood does not mean you have to drive yourself bloody crazy giving a shit about what they think of you.
Unless they are enlightened, your loved ones will have their seasonal shit-fits about you whether you suck up for their approval or not.
Here’s the bottom line: It’s their shit, Sherlock!
Don’t step in their pile of projections.
It’s their job to scoop up their own poop, even if they put your name on it.
Just be yourself without turning down your life force to kiss anyone’s ass.
Sure, you will push people’s buttons, but the ones that will still want to hang out with you, as well as the new ones that show up, will be your true family. And nothing beats that.
4. Agree to Stop Giving a Shit about What You Think
This might be the toughest shit of all, and the most rewarding.
It doesn’t matter what you think about yourself!
The self that you think of as good or bad is not who you are anyway, just your current costume.
You might wear it well, but you will wear it down fast if you think the costume is all you are.
You are not your thoughts, dude.
“I think, therefore I am” is a famous quote from a horny suppressed celibate philosopher names Descartes who made a living from mentally masturbating because his religion didn’t allow him the basic human right to give himself a hand.
It would be more accurate to turn it around and say, “I Am, Therefore Why the F@CK Am I Getting a Headache from All This Thinking?”
You can quote me on that.
When you stop identifying yourself as the thinker of your thoughts you automatically enter the Witness Protection Program.
The WPP, along with your new attitude of WTF, combine to get you relocated from your head to your heart, where you are protected from the mental mafia, who has a hit on you with their not so secret weapon — Guilt!
Guilt. The organized crime against humanity.
Guilt sucks. It serves no purpose, save to multiply profits for Big Pharma.
The next time it comes knocking on your door, tell it that George Carlin said to go f*uck itself!
Who you really are is the witness, innocent as hell. Just sit in the audience, man! Enjoy your performance, whatever character you are playing.
The witness is beyond all ideas of good or bad, right or wrong, conservative or progressive, maga monkey or wimpy democrat, angel or asshole.
The witness doesn’t care if you are into negative or positive thinking, as long as you are positive your thoughts don’t mean a damn thing.
Go ahead. It’s safe. Take the plunge.
Trade in your low self-esteem or high self-esteem for no self esteem.
Having zero self-esteem is actually a good thing, cause there is no ‘self’ to esteem!
Trust me on this. Dead comics don’t lie.
When you finally get that the only thing that has ever kept you from lying down in Rumi’s field is taking your silly sense of ‘self’ so seriously, you begin to laugh your ass off.
Soon enough, the pull of levity becomes stronger than gravity, and like a tractor beam, it draws you into the light, where you’ve actually always been.
Wake up Dorothy. It’s all been a dream.
There is no place but home, there is no place but home, there is no place but home.
If you want to click your heels as well, go right ahead, but I recommend kicking them off instead.
Who wears heels in a field?
Rumi’s field.
You’ll get there sooner or later.
The question is, do you want to be there before or after croaking?
Ask your doctor if practicing the new four agreements, the things George Carlin strongly recommends not giving a shit about, is right for you.
Note to Scott: Next time you channel me, do me a simple favor, por favor – brush your goddamn teeth and take a shower before inviting me in, OK? I’ve been holding your nose the whole time I was in your body.
That’s all for now. I’m out of here.
PS. If you think this post was good shit, share it.
And if he promises to brush and use deodorant, tell Scott to channel me more often.
It sure beats trying to keep up with Robin Williams when we entertain the ascended masters and the rest of the troops with our show, Who’s More Out of Line Anyway?
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