Hi George,

You don’t know me, we’ve never met–you’ve never even heard of me. In fact, since I’m writing this letter to you after you died yesterday, I can wager a good deal of cash that you’ll never hear of me, and we’ll never meet. I heard about your death this morning, going through my daily RSS feeds, not from any reputable news source, but from an online cartoon news post. Kinda ruined my day, jackass. Not that you care, of course.

I grew up listening to your humor, man. My whole life until today has been a life with George Carlin in the mix. Watching and re-watching your specials over the years has given me more than a lifetime of laughter, but has helped me to handle all the absolutely chronically stupid crap that happens in my daily life. It’s that sense of humor that you helped create that keeps me sane today, for as much as that counts for anything.

You’ll be missed. Jackoff.

It’s a good thing you were fucking old by the time you kicked the bucket.  Lenny went down at 40. Showoff.