When Urban Lounge canceled Buju Banton, it got me thinking about George Carlin.
"How can that be?" you might mutter. "How can you correlate Carlin with Banton?"
Easy. That's how my brain works. It connects squirrelly, little dots in inordinately odd ways. Yes, I just may make love to muffins in my mind.
But back to George Carlin. He's the real reason we are all gathered here today. God bless him! That loud-mouthed, profane-ass SOB!
Carlin brought his vigor and venom to Salt Lake a few years back. He enthralled us all at Abravanel Hall. The old man absolutely killed it. Vintage Carlin. Hilarious!
A huge chunk of his act focused on suicide jokes. Not really for everybody. But then, George Carlin never really cared to please everybody.
Carlin cursed. A lot. He mocked men and women, of all stripes, mercilessly and unapologetically. He held nothing sacred, as far as I could tell. I've read all of his books. Most of them, I've read more than once.
I'm glad George Carlin dared to offend. Buried among his ugly obscenities and vicious verbal attacks was a miraculous treasure of astute social commentary.
For decades, he pinpointed America's problems and exploited them for comedic gold like nobody else would or could.
We paid George Carlin to make us laugh. And he repaid us by making us think.
What's this got to do with Buju Banton?
If I had my way, I'd let the man play.