Entertainment, Hopelessness and the Language of Genocide...

Journal of Entertainment and Media Studies, Vol. 1 Issue 1 (2015) 3

Entertainment, Hopelessness and the Language of Genocide:

An Analysis of George Carlin

Philip J. Williams Regent University

George Carlin undoubtedly arrived at the right time. Following in the footsteps of Lenny Bruce,

who achieved only limited commercial success along with routine public obscenity arrests

(Carlin & Hendra, 2009, p. xi), Carlin wrote his famous 7 Dirty Words sketch and became a

cultural icon. Fans adored him for his irreverence, hailing him as a mouthpiece of sorts for their

political and social angst. Detractors hated him for the same reasons. Carlin, however, served not

only as an oracle of the social and political turbulence of the 1970s, but also as a Mosaic figure,

shattering the stone tablets of conscience at the feet of society’s greatest inconsistencies. He

attacked not only the “system,” but the very people who were banding together against the

system in protest, the very people who paid to see his shows.

This set him apart as an activist and entertainer. Dylan, Lennon, Kennedy, and King took

their turns peddling hope in the 1960s, each offering a positive vision of the future. A decade

later, Carlin took to the comedy houses with a new message: nihilistic hopelessness. The

dreamers had failed. The government was incompetent. Society was irreparably corrupt. With an

audience now wise to the language of idealism, Carlin completely reinvented himself and

became the first comic to successfully market nihilistic hopelessness as an entertainment brand.


Gardner (2009) argues that the Marx Brothers incorporated nihilism into their work much

earlier than Carlin, and Ziv (1998) argues for a progression of nihilistic humor in Jewish thought

that includes not only the Marx Brothers, but also the Ritz Brothers, the Three Stooges, and

Lenny Bruce (p. 30). Earlier acts did incorporate nihilistic themes, but the message of complete

hopelessness was not so overt. Carlin’s innovation was blending the popular success of the Marx

Brothers with the stone-cold darkness of Bruce. No comic had occupied this territory before and

been nationally successful.

Carlin’s message was simple and overt. He believed people who care too much create groups

to care about things in greater number, and the world is destroyed by strength in numbers. True

to his nihilistic brand, he offered a hopeless quasi-solution centered on the individual: The rest of

the world will not stop caring. The numbers will march on, destroying everything in their path

through business, religion, and PTA meetings. God does not exist, or care. The world and our

species are essentially doomed. The individual, however, can fully embrace this reality, stop

caring, and choose a detached personal hopelessness. From there, the individual is ultimately

freed from the tyranny of the group and able to recast their identity as an outsider and observer

instead of a stakeholder.

Whether Carlin’s brand was more satirical or more sincere is beside the point; he blended

satire and sincerity throughout his material, flowing back and forth as the gods of humor

demanded. It was precisely between these two extremes that Carlin found his muse, in the

absurdity of existing between the non-real and the real. It was how he broke through the comfort

of predictable culture and kept his audience constantly thinking. Teasing apart Carlin’s true

hopes and despairs, then, is beyond the reach of a short analysis. Carlin once commented to an

interviewer on his cynical outlook, offering the counterpoint that a cynic is merely a


disappointed idealist, admitted he harbored a secret, disappointed idealism, and then disavowed

it, all in the same answer (George Carlin Interview, 2007, Part 5). It seems there was a wide

discrepancy between what Carlin wanted and what he thought he could actually have. To avoid

living at the mercy of this tension, he found a comfortable middle ground in an oddly assembled

optimistic hopelessness, characteristically defying everybody in the process, thumbing his nose

at both the believers and the non-believers. Perhaps it would be fair to say he believed and

doubted as it served his purpose.

With this in mind, the main focus of this paper is to evaluate Carlin’s handling of nihilistic

hopelessness as an entertainment brand, without much consideration toward its exact level of

sincerity. That task can be left to those who knew Carlin personally and might navigate his inner

nature. Analysis will adhere to Carlin’s strategies for marketing hopelessness, with the goal of

understanding how an entertainer wins the acceptance of a narrative, dialogue, or ideology

apparently at odds with positive emotions.

That positive emotions are a primary driver of popular media is no secret. The highest-

grossing movies of 2013, for example, all involve tension, violence, danger, and fear, but all

return at some point to positive emotions (Top box office, 2013). Violent and even tragic films

end hopefully and in full support of some form of community. This fits with the current

understanding of consumer motivations, which Vorderer, Klimmt, and Ritterfield (2004) reduce

to pleasure and enjoyment. Consumers generally avoid what brings pain, and consume what

brings pleasure. The pleasures associated with entertainment are unsurprising. Izzo, Munteanu,

Langford, Ceobanu, Dumitru, and Nichifor (2011), give an overview of various motivational

models for spectator sports, and no model includes nihilism or anti-community. The only stand-

outs might be aggression and catharsis (Izzo et al., 2004, pp. 3–4; Kim, Byon, Yu, Zhang, &


Kim, 2013, p. 1363), but these motivations exist in the context of the other more positive

motivations. Aggression, for example, is based on winning. Who do we want to win except our

team and our community?

Carlin eliminates these contexts, along with all the rest of the typical entertainment

motivations, rendering aggression and catharsis meaningless. He never really gives anything to

achieve, or any hope of achievement. There are no winners in Carlin’s world. There is no team.

There is only the individual, who has no inherent value. Carlin arrives with a product utterly

opposed to catharsis, beauty, escapism, validation, community, or significance. He is opposed, it

seems, to the pull of psychological gravity, marching his product uphill against the force of a

cascading humanity. To be fair, Carlin benefitted from a timely cultural affinity with absurdity

that allowed him to craft a nihilistic message (Gay, 2012, p. 103). This does not explain,

however, his ongoing success long after the moment passed, long after the outrage of the 1970s

quietly transitioned into the optimism of the 1980s and the rampant consumerism of the 1990s.

How, then, did he attempt to succeed as an “entertainer” with an entertainment brand so

completely at odds with conventional culture? This analysis will seek to answer this question.

Methodology

The texts under examination will be Carlin’s three full-length books: Brain Droppings,

Napalm & Silly Putty, and When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?, plus an additional 31 pages

of written material. These texts comprise a total of 890 pages, appearing together in the omnibus

3XCarlin: An Orgy of George (2006). The original books remain intact and unedited, so for the

sake of convenience all quotes referencing Carlin will come from the omnibus unless otherwise

noted. These texts were coded first from the perspective of nihilistic hopelessness to gain an

understanding of Carlin’s “product.” A second round of coding was done along the lines of the


explanatory schema. As to the question of examining the written works of a live performer,

Carlin has said he considers himself a writer who performs his own material (Carlin & Wilde,

2002). It follows that Carlin’s books represent his work in its highest form.

The analysis will employ a generative critical approach based on Stanton’s (2004, 2013)

explanatory schema of the ten stages of genocide, an influential model in the conversation on

genocide (parts of Stanton’s model are also supported by Staub, 1989, 2013; Rummel, 1997,

1998; Mukimbiri, 2005, and Woolf & Hulsizer, 2005). While genocide and humor may seem

unlikely bedfellows, Carlin is dealing with the idea of extermination and replacement.

Specifically, he is advocating the ideological extermination of hope and the social extermination

of the resulting power when hopeful people congregate into groups. He also repeatedly

comments on how thrilling it would be to see these people actually dead, preferably in some

bizarrely violent way. One would hope these comments are merely representing the best of

Carlinian satire. Finally, he advocates the replacement of the existing social order with a posture

of nihilistic hopelessness and individuality. At any rate, the goal is not to link Carlin with the

literal notion of genocide, which clearly repulses him (pp. 110, 868). The goal is to understand

how Carlin was assailing the rhetorical walls of conventional culture through a dialogue of

extermination.

This intersects with the idea of marketing nihilistic hopelessness at the point of sale. As with

genocide, the marketing process is being carried out in several concurrent streams. There are

those few who are eager for extermination and replacement, and for those the marketing strategy

involves providing an ideological “safe zone” where preexisting proclivities can materialize.

This requires affirmation, companionship, and opportunity. Then there are those who are not

particularly inclined toward extermination and replacement, and the marketing strategy must


proceed over and against the existing culture. The same applies to those who are markedly

opposed to extermination and replacement. For these latter groups, dialogue must employ some

sort of rhetorical battering ram to overthrow existing cultural defenses and become accepted.

This usually requires profoundly violent rhetoric of the sort discussed by Stanton (2013). It is a

process of conversion “in which language is intensified, focused, and shot at… the listener

(Harding, 2001, p. 37).

Merely presenting a counter-culture viewpoint in an even, fair-minded, unbiased tone will

not do the trick. The rhetoric runs to the lowest point of gravity, resulting in fair-minded, tolerant

dialogue. In order to sell, the party of extermination and replacement must be willing to meet

powerful adversarial dialogue with even more powerful dialogue. Political elections, for

example, are routinely won by galvanizing support over and against the opposition by

demonizing the opponent, silencing critics, and mobilizing supporters to exterminate and replace

the existing power. In the case of hope versus hopelessness, Carlin is fighting an uphill battle

against catharsis. There are a few likeminded readers and viewers who embrace his vision of

nihilism; the rest either lean toward hope as a dominant cultural value or explicitly advocate a

lifestyle of hopefulness. Dethroning hope in America would require more than a shot across the

bow. It would require exactly what Carlin employs: a brutal rhetorical strategy that takes no

prisoners and offers no conciliation.

To that end, the analysis will break down the coding along the lines of Stanton’s ten stages:

(1) Classification; (2) Symbolization; (3) Discrimination; (4) Dehumanization; (5) Organization;

(6) Polarization; (7) Preparation; (8) Persecution; (9) Extermination, and (10) Denial. Stanton

(2013) notes that these stages are not necessarily progressive, often occurring in various orders,

and not all stages are necessary for extermination to occur (p. 1). Various groups, then, might be


engaging in the language or action of extermination without ever accomplishing widespread

genocide. Groups may be completely symbolized and polarized, for example, as blacks were in

19th Century America, but not systematically exterminated. However, for the sake of simplicity,

the analysis will follow the progression as given, with the exception of coupling the stages of

Preparation and Organization due to their similarities.

Once again, it is important to keep in mind that Carlin’s work as a satirist will often make use

of brutal rhetoric, and the apparent links to the language of extermination must stand on their

own. This analysis is not attempting a value judgment of Carlin’s ultimate rhetorical strategy,

although it will involve occasional observations regarding strategic or logical inconsistencies.

While a discussion of Carlin might provide something useful for the consideration of ethics in

counter-cultural entertainment, emotionally charged concepts such as “discrimination,” or

“dehumanization,” will be evaluated generally as neutral concepts in order to gain insight into

Carlin’s rhetorical habits and strategies. It is also worth noting that Carlin had an uncanny

awareness into the nature of rhetoric, as his recurring “Euphemism” sketches reveal. This adds to

the sense that Carlin was not merely on the attack against imagined adversaries, but strategically

aware of how language creates our perceived reality.

Analysis

Not all of Carlin’s work employs the language of extermination. Carlin often calls himself an

entertainer (Sullivan, 2010, p. 105), and some of his work is purely benign entertainment. On the

other hand, his benign material may serve either as a vehicle or a balance for his more brutally

nihilistic rhetoric (Marmysz, 2012, p. 148). Humor is a powerful alkali to the acid of

extermination and replacement, used throughout history by dictators to take the edge off the

oppression. Pinochet famously said, “I'm not a dictator. It's just that I have a grumpy face”


(Swier & Riordan-Goncalves, 2013, p. 4). Either way, Carlin’s focus is aimed at the issue of how

hope and groups coexist and destroy society, and how freedom from hope and groups is at least a

personal solution to the problem of a dying society. He defines his brand and begins his

marketing strategy with the first stages from Stanton’s list.

Classification

Classification deals with separating groups into “us and them,” without “mixed categories”

(Stanton, 2013, p. 1). In Carlin’s rhetorical strategy, the individual replaces the “us” group,

specifically the individual of George Carlin. Strangely, while repudiating the concept of the

group, he was at the same time “building a devoted following of millions” (Carlin & Hendra,

2009, p. xiii).

This is the first order of business in the omnibus, appearing in the original introductory pages

of Brain Droppings. Carlin first includes a quote from Martha Graham: “There is… a blessed

unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others” (p. 7, italics added). He

continues on the preface to clarify his position:

I don’t belong… it doesn’t include me… I do not identify with the local group… I loathe and

despise the groups they identify with and belong to… Don’t confuse me with those who cling

to hope… if you think there’s a solution, you’re part of the problem… don’t confuse my

point of view with cynicism; the real cynics are the ones who tell you everything’s gonna be

alright… if, by some chance, you folks do manage to straighten things out and make

everything better, I still don’t wish to be included. (p. 10)

This occurs, as noted, in a single page, at the outset, setting the tone for the dialogue. In the

spirit of the Marx Brothers, he declares, “Whatever it is, I’m against it” (Gardner, 2009, p. 1). In

his later work, he softens this stance slightly, writing, “I’m an outsider by choice, but not truly…


I’d rather be in, in a good system” (p. 556). The only trouble is, Carlin held fast to the

conviction that “good” systems and groups do not exist.

In both cases, there is clear classification of the concepts of the individual (George Carlin),

and all other groups, coupled with complete rejection of those groups. Throughout his career,

Carlin has been known for indiscriminately mocking everyone, which normally is perceived as a

fair-handed approach to humor: As long as you roast everyone, there is no intimation of bias.

This view misunderstands Carlin’s point of view. In targeting “everyone,” he is carrying on the

strategy of classification ad infinitum, keeping clear the boundary between the sacredness of the

individual and the profanity of the “others.” This process of classification carries on throughout

his written work, with Carlin raising up his individuality as the only authentic and worthwhile

thing in existence, over and against all other things.

Symbolization

Symbolization is merely a logical carryover from classification, in which “names or other

symbols” are attached to the classified groups. A further strategy is to symbolize the groups in

ways they reject as appropriate symbolization (Stanton, 2013, p. 1). Whitehorn (2010) refers to

this aspect of genocide as stigmatization (p. 16). Renaming is essential to Carlin’s process. As

Smith (2014) writes, “conversions of all sorts (religious or otherwise) involve… careful

manipulation of emotions through compelling language meant to be repeated (p. 82). Once

groups are recast in a new and stigmatically compelling language that undermines their value and

reflects Carlin’s ideology, the concepts of hopelessness and anti-community can take root.

In a sketch certain to bruise the egos of golfers everywhere, Carlin decides on the stigmas of

arrogant, elitist, pinhead, meaningless, mindless, and racist (pp. 389–390). On a more serious

note, in a discussion on religious people (he specifically names Buddhists, Catholics, Hindus,


Moslems, Christians, and Jews), he chooses the additional labels of unattractive, morally

inconsistent, uncaring, killers, antiwoman, inhospitable, uncommitted, pedophiles, vengeful,

hateful, and genocidal (pp. 500–504). Most of these labels are reserved for Christians, which is

expected considering Carlin’s target audience of historically “Christian” Americans.

Whether these labels are deserved or undeserved is of little interest here. The key observation

is that Carlin makes a constant habit of both naming and renaming his adversaries throughout his

work. It is nearly unrelenting. This helps to focus and reinforce the rhetorical separation between

himself as the sacred individual and the profane, immoral, and stigmatized “others.”

Discrimination

Discrimination deals with denying and depriving the rights of a less powerful group by a

more powerful group, using whatever power is available (Stanton, 2013, p. 1). This is significant

because power affords the means to practice extermination (Rummel, 1998, p. viii). It is possible

to make a case that Carlin cannot technically practice discrimination, since the hopeful surely

outnumber the truly hopeless, and since he wages war as an individual against the full power of

society. However, in Carlin’s utopian vision, everything is individualized. He personally rejects

even the notion of groups and the basis for their existence. A fair judgment of his personal

power, then, must be made on the basis of an individual wielding power in the company of other

individuals. From this perspective, Carlin is uniquely powerful. In a world he sees as being

shaped by language (p. 624), he employs the power of language as an accomplished

communicator.

Using this power, Carlin discriminates against his adversaries by depriving them of a voice in

the conversation. It is ironic that some of his worst criticisms of discrimination and

totalitarianism are reserved for the Abrahamic religions, and the sacred texts of these religions


provide some of the best examples of dissent in conversation. Preserved for generations are

accusations against Yaweh and Allah, claiming injustice, betrayal, indifference, and deception.

Even Christ cries out: “My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?” To these accusations of

abandonment and conspiracy God is often silent, preferring to allow competing voices to enter

the conversation as part of an unmoderated dialectic.

Carlin, on the other hand, keeps the power of the conversation by shutting out competing

voices. In a sketch on politics and voting, Carlin offers a one-sided perspective, gently mocking

those who bother with the futility (pp. 512–514). Granted, there are people from every political

conviction who feel troubled by a lurking sense of futility in the American political process.

There is an element of hopelessness. This is not, however, the only thing voters feel and think

about politics. In politics, as in life, there is a mixture of hope and despair from person to person.

Carlin fails to address the inconsistency that while he extols individualism as the only correct

vantage point, he also shuts out from the conversation individuals who feel community best

expresses the ultimate hope of their individuality.

In order to maintain his narrative of nihilistic hopelessness and preserve his brand, Carlin

must ignore and silence these competing voices. Of course, he does nothing outwardly. He

simply keeps the ball in his own court. He controls the pen. He controls the microphone. The

conversation proceeds in a predetermined way, shutting out all dissent, thereby denying and

depriving the adversary of a meaningful voice. Again, since this proceeds along the lines of

Carlin’s preferred venue of individuality, he possesses a formidable power to overwhelm less

astute communicators.


Dehumanization

In this stage, “One group denies the humanity of the other group. Members of it are equated

with animals, vermin, insects or diseases. Dehumanization overcomes the normal human

revulsion against murder” (Stanton, 2013, p. 1). In Carlin’s case, he is attempting to overcome

the “normal human revulsion” against overthrowing aspects of the system considered sacred by

the dominant culture. Hope and community are both sacred cultural artifacts, even in an

individualized culture. Further, the shared sense of humanness and human goodness undergird

the convictions of hope and community. Carlin shows his awareness of cultural structures by

targeting both the individual and the collective in order to overthrow the premise of the

community. Targeting the individual may appear to work against his doctrine of individuality,

but it is absolutely necessary. Especially to an American mind, the value of the individual is the

premise for the value of the collective. The devalued individual, on the other hand, establishes

the fact of hopelessness and opens a new path, in Carlin’s view, for a recast individuality based

on nihilistic sensibilities.

As to be expected, Carlin does most of his work in this stage since it is so fundamental to the

process. He redefines human beings as poison (p. 57), rapists (pp. 108, 305–306, 333), unable to

think and mentally handicapped (pp. 111, 450, 462, 575, 831, 862, 883, 886), a “grotesquely

distorted” species (pp. 138, 700), torturers and murderers (pp. 187, 191), diseased (p. 219),

genetic material (pp. 242, 720), worthless (pp. 246, 337, 504–505), less worthy of sympathy than

animals (pp. 247, 250, 501), failures (p. 307), garbage (pp. 322, 513), fleas (p. 375), animals (p.

436), sheep (p. 481), depraved maniacs (p. 499), a cosmic joke (p. 537), disposable (pp. 610,

694), foul (p. 700), accidents (p. 705), and soul-dead (p. 806).


The constant redefinition of humanity helps weaken the tie an individual may feel with the

community, since no one in their right mind would want to be associated with anyone from the

above list. It also serves to strengthen pre-existing negative feelings about humanity.

Paradoxically, even as the individual is impugned, the focus remains outward, subconsciously

targeting all the “other” individuals. The sense of self remains more intact.

Organization and Preparation

In the Organization stage, “Special army units or militias are often trained and armed. Plans

are made for genocidal killings,” while in the Preparation stage, “leaders plan the ‘Final

Solution.’” Leaders “indoctrinate the populace with fear of the victim group,” and “often claim

that ‘if we don’t kill them, they will kill us’” (Stanton, 2013, pp. 1–2).

From an ideological standpoint, Carlin’s work is itself the organization and preparation for

the extermination of hope and the group. His ideology provides the “training” and “arming” of

the mind with a new ideology existing over and against the dominant culture. His work is

ammunition and companionship for the consummate individualist. It is important to keep in mind

that since Carlin is dealing entirely in the realm of ideology, his organization may appear on the

surface a toothless lion. His millions of followers suggest otherwise. In a physical extermination

process, violence begets violence. In a cultural extermination process, compelling ideology

begets new culture.

More practically, Carlin often preaches, “if we don’t kill them, they will kill us.” This

appears in his recurring vision of the business community as rapists (pp. 108, 305–306, 333),

politicians and government as tyrants (pp. 92, 187, 211, 452, 573, 716), and religion as the

primary source of genocide and oppression (pp. 111, 160–166, 288, 355, 418, 504, 532, 576,

579, 674, 716, 743, 881). He offers the intentionally understated warning typical of the entire


dialogue, that they “are coming to get you, and they are not pleasant people” (p. 288). He later

offers the solution: “Why don’t we just kill these… people?” (p. 674).

Polarization

Polarization occurs when “Extremists drive the groups apart,” and target “moderates,

intimidating and silencing the center” (Stanton, 2013, p. 2). This stage in the extermination

dialogue claims that reconciliation is impossible. The “others” do not want peace, and those who

still cling to such hopes are either naïve or subversive.

Polarization is woven through Carlin’s work; in fact, the impossibility of reconciliation (with

society, the group, existence, future, etc.) is one of his basic tenets. Otherwise, there would be

reason to hope. If reconciliation between groups was possible, perhaps groups could find a

legitimate place in society. As with physical genocide, a credible case must be made that

extermination is the only option. In this way, the perception of impossibility becomes the oxygen

without which hopelessness cannot survive. Where catharsis is possible, hope must exist even in

the most fragile state.

To those who question impossibility, he writes, “if you think there’s a solution, you’re part of

the problem” (p. 10). Those who think differently about hope either “can’t hear” (p. 84), are

“asleep” (p. 93), or are “missing the point” (p. 613). Regarding ideology, he affirms that his

views are the only credible ones (pp. 98, 127, 171, 378, 802). In a moment of weakness he

reminds himself not to grow compassionate (p. 612), which would apparently threaten his

complete detachment (p. 10). Those who resist undiluted individualism he mocks as “ass kissers,

flag wavers, and team players” (p. 842). In the closing words of his last book, for anyone

unconvinced that extermination is necessary, he reminds the reader that “some people deserve to


die” (p. 857). This punishment is presumably applicable to all the people Carlin has tried and

convicted in the pages of his satirical court.

This dialogue wipes away any moderating influence. Dissenters are silenced and shamed,

perhaps satirically, perhaps sincerely. In either case, without any possibility left for

reconciliation, the process of extermination is free to proceed.

Persecution

In the Persecution stage, “Victims are identified and separated out… Death lists are drawn

up…. Genocidal massacres begin” (Stanton, p. 2). The issue of genocidal massacres in Carlin’s

rhetorical process will be discussed in the following section on Extermination and Denial.

Identification and separation has already been discussed in previous sections, where the naming

and renaming of adversaries creates an environment for extermination and guiltless persecution.

Again, the adversaries may be human or purely ideological. Much of the persecution aimed at

humans is actually Carlin’s targeting of ideology, made more effective by giving it a human face.

The main goal is still the extermination of hope and the group.

More focused identification and separation are found in Carlin’s version of “death lists,” such

as “People Who Should Be Phased Out” (pp. 12–13), “People I Can Do Without” (pp. 136–138,

451–452), “More General Lame Overused Expressions For Which The Users Ought To Be

Slain” (pp. 154–156), and in suggestions that specific groups or types of people should be killed

or “silenced” (pp. 538, 643, 674, 743). Stanton (2013) notes that euphemism is often used to

“cloak… intentions” (p. 2), meaning that the drafting of an official list is more important than

what you call the list. For example, in the list, “More General Lame Overused Expressions For

Which The Users Ought To Be Slain,” Carlin is connecting language with specific types of

people. It is not the language itself, but the person behind the language, being targeted.


Extermination

In the Extermination stage, “Extermination begins, and quickly becomes the mass killing

legally called ‘genocide.’ It is ‘extermination’ to the killers because they do not believe their

victims to be fully human.” Whitehorn (2005) adds that extermination usually follows a

predictable pattern, beginning by “decapitating the leadership of the targeted group,” making it

easier to then eliminate the “rank and file” (p. 18). While Carlin does not always follow this

progression, he does seem especially aware of the need to undermine religious authority figures,

including God (p. 30) Jerry Fallwell and Joseph Smith (pp. 35–36), Jesus (pp. 338–346), the

Pope (pp. 370, 503), clergy (p. 392), Mother Teresa (p. 449), and the Bible (p. 493–494), before

his explicit skewering of “Hindus, Moslems, Christians, [and] Jews” (p. 503). Carlin’s recurring

attack on business leaders has already been discussed, and to this he adds luminary figures (p.

355) the British royal family (p. 462), and, hilariously, protesters (p. 381). It is here that either

Carlin’s profound genius or profound inconsistency is on display: A lifelong protester declares

the meaninglessness of protest.

In this stage of Carlin’s rhetoric, “genocide” is replaced by successfully creating cultural

separation between the reader and the concepts of hope and community. This is difficult to

measure, but it is useful to return again to Carlin’s widespread success and devoted following.

Each ardent follower represents a single case of extermination, in which greater separation and

individuality has been achieved. These single cases, added up into the millions, comprise the

“genocide.” Insofar as the ideology of hope and community have been overthrown,

extermination has been successfully carried out. Since Carlin came out of the greater movement


of cynicism in the 1960s and 1970s, it is worth noting that cynicism toward government and

religion, two of Carlin’s favorite adversaries, has steadily risen in recent decades (Cappella &

Jamieson, 1997, pp. 17–27). Not all of this is Carlin’s doing, of course, but he added his artistic

weight to the extermination process and saw great gains (from a nihilistic perspective) in the

course of his career.

Denial

Lastly, the exterminators “cover up the evidence and intimidate the witnesses. They deny that

they committed any crimes, and often blame what happened on the victims” (Stanton, 2013, p.

2). The centrality of denial to the extermination process is further discussed by Hovannisian

(1998), Churchill (1998), and Fournet (2007). Regarding Carlin, Hovannisian (1998) offers the

most insight, explaining that where complete denial of genocide is untenable, a new form of

denial emerges cloaked in “rationalization, relativization, and trivialization” (p. 201). Either the

dead are framed as inherently worthless, or else blame is placed on the dead, recasting the

exterminators as the true victims. Carlin’s brush with victimhood is apparent from the beginning

(pp. 9–10, 556) as he declares himself an unwilling outsider, rejected by a defiled system.

Regarding Carlin’s view on the worthlessness of humanity, he writes in a section entitled, “If

Only We Were Human:” “We are serial killers… Man’s noble aspect is the aberration” (p. 191).

Carlin would argue, then, that he sees his adversaries as “fully human,” but being fully human is

to be utterly worthless, ignoble, and animalistic. This is an example of a companion strategy to

renaming; where renaming is impossible, redefinition may be employed to the same end. Carlin

perceives that humans inherently perceived themselves as human. It would be too difficult to

attempt a renaming process for something so ingrained. So he simply redefines the term along

the lines of a deeply felt lower nature (failure, ignobility, worthlessness), and denies the


existence of a higher nature (goodness, value, nobility) as anything beyond an “aberration.” In

this context, extermination is just that: the elimination of the worthless ideology of a worthless

species.

Carlin is nothing if not forthright in his ambitions. He preaches what he wants. In spite of this

brutally refreshing honesty, however, there are aspects of denial. First, he denies that any crimes

have been committed by virtue of the worthlessness (pp. 246, 337, 504–505), and guiltiness (pp.

110, 857) of the adversaries. “Killing” hope is not a crime because no hope existed to be killed in

the first place, and killing the group is actually a moral endeavor because the group has no right

to exist. Second, he “[blames] what happened on the victims,” arguing repeatedly that humanity

is exterminating both itself and the basis for its popular ideology. He is merely a bystander (p.

10), an observer reporting the carnage. His best argument for the inevitability of destruction and

the culpability of all humans is a detailed (if somewhat dubious) list cataloguing all the sins of

humanity over the last century. He counts two world wars, 311 holy wars, 43,096 atrocities,

823,285,571 shoving matches, and 942,759,050 snotty phone calls, among other things (pp. 514–

516). While these figures may be poignant, they are not directly relevant to Carlin’s goals.

Focusing on the guilt of his adversaries serves to obscure his culpability in his own

extermination strategy.

Conclusion

In order to successfully market hopelessness as an entertainment brand, Carlin employs the

extreme language of genocide, expressed as ideological extermination, in order to overthrow the

existing order. He accomplishes this by (1) defining the individual as distinct from the group, (2)

renaming the adversary in conformance with his agenda, (3) denying the adversary a meaningful

voice in the conversation, (4) dehumanizing the adversary through focused rhetorical


redefinition, (5) providing his followers with ideological alternatives, (6) suggesting the

adversaries are an imminent threat that must be stopped, (7) silencing moderating voices through

mockery and accusation, (8) systematically naming and listing the adversaries, (9) exterminating

the popular ideologies of hope and groups by creating separation between them and the

individual, and (10) denying culpability in the process of extermination.

As previously said, explaining Carlin’s strategy in terms of genocide is not an attempt at

value judgment. It is possible that some ideologies can only be overthrown by the use of extreme

force. Freedman (2012) sees a need for this type of weaponized satire in the context of

authoritarianism. Carlin clearly felt that this was the most effective option, given the tremendous

power wielded by his adversaries.

This analysis also revealed the following: First, either positive emotion is not necessary for

entertainment, or else nihilistic violence is perceived as emotionally positive in some cases.

Second, when combined with compelling entertainment, extremely violent rhetoric, even

genocidal rhetoric, can be effective in overthrowing popular ideology. Third, extremely violent

entertainment rhetoric can be lucrative without turning off an entertainment audience. Fourth, the

language of genocide and extermination are tolerated in mainstream American entertainment as

long as the rhetoric primarily targets ideology.

Further study should examine the culture wars of which Carlin was a part, specifically the

rhetoric of his preferred adversaries (business, government, and religion). It would be useful to

know if any of his adversaries also used genocidal rhetoric as comprehensively as Carlin, and if

there was any overlap or interaction between the genocidal dialogues. The ethics of using

extermination in rhetorical battles should also be explored. The state of polarization in

political/ideological rhetoric might provide a good starting point. Finally, the role of perceived


victimization as a justification for weaponized rhetoric should be explored, primarily in the

context of public conversations.


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