I introduced my eldest daughter to George Carlin this weekend.
Before anyone panics…there is a lot of material Carlin put out that soon-to-be 12 year olds simply are not ready for. We introduced her using his take on the difference between football (American style) and baseball. Hilarious but, by his standards, clean.
In about six months, might look at introducing her to his take on stuff, as well. In ten years we might get to the feminist blowjob, but I have doubts I would ever feel comfortable listening to that with her or her sister.
One thing I am so thankful for is that my daughters seem to have gotten my sense of humour. They appreciate the Mupeets and the snipettes of Monty Python I have shared…and of the latter, they have seen the Parrot Sketch as well as bits of Holy Grail watching the coconuts used for horse hooves. They even seem to get the humour behind films such as A Knight’s Tale…which I still believe Paul Bettany and Alan Tudyk stole as the real stars of the film. They adore Rowan Atkinson both as Mr. Bean and Johnny English…of which we will celebrate my birthday by going to see Johnny English 2 in October.
Next step, for me, is to get these two writing. My youngest does not yet have a handle on sarcasm, but it is coming like a freight train is drawn to a damsel tied to the tracks. Her wit, though, is sharp…sharper than my own was at ten. When I look at Janeane Garofalo, this is how I see my youngest in twenty years.
Will be funny, twenty years from now, to look back at this little blog entry and see what I think of my daughters then.