A MODERN MAN
By George Carlin
I‘m a modern man, a man for the millennium.
Digital and smoke-free; A diversified, multicultural, post-modern deconstructionist; politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.
I’ve been uplinked and downloaded, I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.
I’m a high-tech lowlife. A cutting-edge, state-of the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker, and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.
I’m new-wave, but I’m old-school; and my inner child is outward-bound.
I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer; voice-activated and biodegradable.
I interface with my database; my database is in cyberspace; so I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive, and from time to time I’m radioactive.
Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin’ the wave, dodgin the bullet, pushin’ the envelope.
I’m on point, on task, on message, and off drugs. I’ve got no need for coke and speed;
I’ve got no urge to binge and purge.
I’m in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.
A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.
A street-wise, smart bomb.
A top-gun, bottom-feeder.
I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps.
I’m a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.
A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic; out of rehab and in denial.
I’ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda.
You can’t shut me up; you can’t dumb me down.
Cause I’m tireless, and I’m wireless. I’m an alpha-male on beta-blockers.
I’m a non-believer, I’m an overachiever.
Laid-back but fashion-forward.
Up-front, down-home; low-rent, high-maintenance.
I’m super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.
I’m a hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case; prematurely post-traumatic, and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail.
But I’m feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing. A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary-care giver.
My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow.
I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.
I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.
I like rough sex; I like tough love. I use the f-word in my email. And the software on my hard drive is hard-core, no soft porn.
I bought a microwave at a mini-mall. I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast food in the slow lane.
I’m toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes.
A fully equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle.
I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, preheated, pre-screened, pre-approved, prepackaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped, vacuum-packed, and… I have unlimited broadband capacity.
I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal. Lean and mean.
Cocked, locked and ready to rock; rough, tough and hard to bluff.
I take it slow, I go with the flow; I ride with the tide, I’ve got glide in my stride.
Drivin’ and movin’, sailin’ and spinnin’; jivin’ and groovin’, wailin’ and winnin’.
I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road.
I party hearty, and lunchtime is crunch time.
I’m hangin’ in, there ain’t no doubt; and I’m hangin tough.
Over and out.
George Denis Patrick Carlin
1937 - 2008
