Dear Mr. Carlin,

Even though you and I never met in real life, I feel like I knew you. I saw you as the crusader that you were. Even in the 1990s, when I was still a kid, I enjoyed your special brand of humor. Even more, I enjoyed your keen eye toward political matters. I remember your wonderful adage about politicians: Politicians will hide behind three things: the flag, the Bible and children. You had a yen for finding and pointing out the lies in our culture. You were a light to the culturally disgruntled.

The way you talked and the way you acted inspired generation after generation to think about the role they played in society. You showed that the world was bigger and more complex than the government wanted us to think. You explored new territory and pushed people s buttons. Some got riled up, angry, and frustrated listening to you, but at the end of the day, they had to admit that you had valid points to make.

You engaged in the battle against censorship, both at the personal and the political level.

You dared to say what couldn t be said, and you paid the price for it.

You made us more open about ourselves.

You made us look around at the emptiness of materialism.

You made us see the government for what it was.

You woke us up.

* * *

I wish I could be as frank as you were or as brilliant and funny as you were. You possessed a rare gift, a gift that is given only to a small group of people. And because of that ability of yours to see the world as it is, people got mad. They tried to censor you and succeeded once or twice. But you were always able to bounce back.

I would be lying to say that you didn t leave a hole in our cultural wall when you died. You left behind a big impact on our culture, just as Johnny Carson or Lenny Bruce did.

And so, wherever you may be now, I want to wish you good luck and happy traveling.

James Patrick.

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