George Carlin’s New Rules For 2007

New

Rule: Stop giving me

that pop-up ad for

classmates.com!  There’s a

reason you don’t talk to people for 25 years.  Because you don’t

particularly like them!? Besides, I already know what the captain of the

football team is doing these days–mowing my

lawn.

New

Rule: Don’t eat

anything that’s served to you out a window unless you’re a seagull.  People

are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy’s

chili.  Hey, it cost less than a dollar.  What did you expect it to

contain?? Trout?

New

Rule: Stop saying that

teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently

damaged.  I have a better description for these kids: lucky

bastards.

New

Rule: If you need to

shave and you still collect baseball cards, you’re a dope.  If you’re a

kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols.  If you’re a grown man, they’re

pictures of men.

New Rule:

Ladies, leave your

eyebrows alone.  Here’s how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have

two of them? Okay, we’re done.

New

Rule: There’s no such

thing as flavored water.  There’s a whole aisle of this crap at the

supermarket, water, but without that watery taste.  Sorry, but flavored

water is called a soft drink.  You want flavored water?  Pour some

scotch over ice and let it melt.  That’s your flavored

water.

New

Rule: Stop screwing

with old people.  Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that’s

square, with a bigger label.  And the top is now the bottom. And by the

time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue.

Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security

crisis.

New

Rule: The more

complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole.  If you walk into

a Starbucks and order a “decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla,

double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one

sweet-n’-Low, and one NutraSweet,” ooh, you’re a huge

asshole.

New

Rule: I’m not the

cashier!  By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN

number, pressing “Enter,” verifying the amount, deciding no, I don’t want cash

back, and pressing “Enter” again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is

standing there eating my Almond Joy.

New

Rule: Just because your

tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn’t make you spiritual.  It’s right

above the crack of your ass.  And it translates to “beef with

broccoli.”  The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to

God you weren’t pregnant.  You’re not spiritual.  You’re just

high.

New

Rule: Competitive

eating isn’t a sport.   It’s one of the seven deadly sins.  ESPN

recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those

athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What’s next,

competitive farting???  Oh wait!?  They’re already doing that. It’s

called “The Howard Stern Show.”

New

Rule: I don’t need a

bigger mega M&Ms.  If I’m extra hungry for M&Ms, I’ll go nuts and

eat two.

New

Rule: If you’re going

to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have

to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what’s playing on the

other screens.  Let’s remember the reason something was a television show

in the first place is that the idea wasn’t good enough to be a

movie.

New

Rule: No more gift

registries.  You know, it used to be just for weddings.  Now it’s for

babies and new homes and graduations from rehab.  Picking out the stuff you

want and having other people buy it for you isn’t gift giving, it’s the white

people version of looting.

New

Rule: and this one is

long overdue: No more bathroom attendants.?  After I zip up, some guy is

offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael.  I

can’t even tell if he’s supposed to be there, or just some freak with a

fetish.  I don’t want to be on your web cam, dude.  I just want to

wash my hands.

New

Rule: When I ask how

old your toddler is, I don’t need to know in months.  “27 Months.”

“He’s two,” will do just fine.  He’s not a cheese.  And I didn’t

really care in the first place.

New

Rule: If you ever hope

to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than minimum wage, then

for God’s sake don’t pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh.  If

so, then plan your future around saying, “Do you want fries with

that?”