Dear Readers,
Carlin, in a dream, told me to come out of retirement again, and let you know that there is no fucking afterlife. The man was a modern day Jesus, and most of you wanted to censor him. So I dedicate this blog to the man who brought the oxymoron military intelligence to our attention and that he wouldn't fuck Dan Quayle's wife with a stolen dick (I'll let the hippy dippy weatherman slide). May he forever remind us of how fucked up we all are.
Sincerely,
TRM - on hour number seven of a thirteen hour HBO Carlin marathon -- I can't wait to see how it turns out!
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