You & Me (Things That Come Off of Your Body) by George Carlin
You & Me (Things That Come Off of Your Body) by George Carlin

You & Me (Things That Come Off of Your Body)

George Carlin * Track #3 On Complaints and Grievances

You & Me (Things That Come Off of Your Body) Annotated

Now, Folks? This next piece of material’s going to give us a chance to bond. That’s what America’s been doing the last (X) years bonding. When they’re not networking or reaching out or making space for one another. You’ll find them bonding and we’re going to do that because this piece of material is about us.

It’s about you and me you and me little things little things we all know common knowledge. In this case. Little things we all know about our bodies. Because everybody’s body is different but everybody’s body’s really quite the same. So there are a lot of little things about our bodies that we all know but we never talk about. That’s what interests me. These are practically universal experiences nobody mentions them. Some of them are disgusting. Some of them are appallingly revolting and degrading even to the most degenerate mind.

So let’s get started with a couple of them!

You ever get lip crud? You ever get that crud on your lip it’s kind of a sticky film kind of a gooey coating you know if it dries a little bit. It’s kind of a cruddy gummy flaky crusty shit kind of thing. Starts in the corner of your mouth, works its way on down your lip and if it’s really bad the corners of your mouth look like parenthesis. Did you ever have that? Lip crud. When you want to get rid of it it’s a real simple operation isn’t it? It’s low tech shit: thumbnail. That’s all you need. Simple tool ain’t it? You just scrape that shit off. That’s all. You just scrape it on down scrape it on down. Hey never mind those people at the bus stop if they knew anything they wouldn’t be riding the bus. Fuck them. Fuck them in the mouth. Scrape it on down. Yeah you just kind of scrape that shit on down and you take it and you roll it up into a little ball. And then you save that son of a bitch. I save my lip crud. I save everything that comes off of my body don’t you? At least for a little while.

Don’t you look at things when they first come off of you Huh? Aren’t you curious? Don’t you spend five or ten or minutes studying something trying to figure out what the fuck it is and what it’s doing on you in the first place? Sure you do. You don’t pull some disgusting looking growth off of your neck and throw it directly into the toilet. You want to know what the fuck it is.

Besides you never know when you’re going to need parts. Isn’t that true? Did you ever see these guys on TV? They’re in the hospital. One guy’s waiting for a kidney another guy’s waiting for a lung. Fuck you I’ve got shit at home. I’ve got a freezer full of viable organs. I have two of everything ready to go. What do you need a spleen an esophagus? How about a nice used ball bag huh? Come on good condition. One owner. He only scratched that on Sundays. Come on and take a chance.

It’s true. You want to know what something is. You don’t spend minutes peeling a malignant tumor off of your forehead just to toss it out the window sight unseen into the neighbor’s swimming pool. No. You take a good long fucking look at it don’t you?

"Holy shit look at this thing. God damn holy jumping fucking Jesus look at this. Honey, look at this. Honey come here look at this. Honey yo. Hey yo honey yo. Hey fuck the Rice-a-Roni get in here! Look at this thing. Look this was a part of my head a minute ago. Not anymore I pried the bastard off with paint thinner and a Phillips head screwdriver. But look at it. Look at the colors in it. It’s green, blue, yellow, orange, brown, tan, Khaki, beige, bronze, olive, Neutral, Black, Off black, champagne gold, Navajo, white turquoise, and band-aid color. Plus it’s exactly the same shape as Bosnia if you leave out the little section where the Croatians live. I’m not throwing this bastard away it might become a collectible. Dial up those dickheads on Ebay we’ll make some fucking money on this thing."

Well I’ll tell you it’s just natural curiosity it’s just everyone has it. You’re curious. You’re curious about yourself. You’re curious about your body so you’re curious about little parts that come off of you. Toenail clippings are a good example

Toenail clippings and I’m even going to set the scene for you. You’re sitting on the bed at home one night and something really shitty comes on TV like a regularly scheduled prime time network program.

You say, "Well I’m not going to watch Raymond Blows the Milkman! I’m going to clip my fucking toenails." So you start to clip your toenails and every time you clip one of them the clipping part flies far away. Did you ever notice that?

>clip-Thoom! clip-Thoom! clip-Thoom!<

These things fly all over the bed. And when you’re finished clipping you have to gather them all back into a little pile don’t you? Yeah you can’t leave them on the bed. They make little holes in your legs. You don’t need that shit. You have to gather them all back into a little pile. Did you ever notice this? The bigger the pile gets the more pride you have in the pile.

"Look at this shit, honey! The biggest pile of toenail clippings we’ve had in this house since the day the Big Bopper died! Call the Museum of Natural History tell them we have a good idea for a diorama!"

And then you look for the largest toenail clipping of all the biggest one you can find and you bend it for a while don’t you? Yes yes yes you do. You bend it. You squeeze it. You play with it. You have to you have to. Why? Because you can! Because it’s still lively and viable there’s moisture in it. It just came off of your body. It’s almost alive. Did you ever try to save your toenail clippings overnight huh? Did you ever put them in the ashtray try to save them till the morning? It’s no good they’re too dry. You can’t bend them in the morning. Fuck them. Throw them away. Who needs unbendable toenails? Not me. Bullshit, fuck you, up yours, get laid, eat shit, drop dead, jack me off, suck this, I don’t need parts that badly, I’m not that sick!

[Wild Applause]

I’m not that sick, folks. Yes sir. That’s right. You got it. You got it.

Little things! Little things that come off of you and your curiosity about them. Especially if it’s something you can’t see while it’s still on you. Know what I mean?

You ever been picking your ass?

You know just idly standing out in the driveway picking your ass... and you come across: an object!

"Honey come here. Want a couple of hits off of this while it’s still fresh? Let me ask you something. Did we eat at Kenny Rogers’ Restaurant again? Well. I don’t remember ordering anything that smelled like this. I believe this is a shit burger. It smells like a burger tastes like shit. Actually it smells like Ethel Merman. Call that Andrew Lloyd Webber fellow tell him we have a good idea for one of those fine shows he’s always putting on Broadway. Then give me the scrapbook this son of a bitch is going right next to that toe jam we found at the Gator Bowl.

All because you couldn’t see it while it was still on you. Here’s something else you can’t see while it’s still on you: little scab on the top of your head. Did you ever have that? Sure you have. A little scab. Top of your head. Not a big red blood scab that you get when someone at work hits you in the head with a fucking Stilson wrench. Just a little dry spot a little scaly spot. You find it one day by accident when you’re scratching your head. You come across it as if by good luck...

"Whoa! Hot shit! A fucking scab! I love fucking scabs!! This is going to be a lot of fun. I can’t wait to pick off my scab and look at it. Oh boy, oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! I can’t wait to pick off my scab and put it down on a contrasting material such as a black velvet tablecloth in order to see it in greater relief. Oh boy, oh boy I can’t wait to pick off my scab. This is going to be-- Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! It’s not going to come off yet. It’s immature. It’s still not ripe! It’s not ready for plucking!"

"I’ll save this for Thursday. Thursday will be a good day. I only have a half-day of work on Thursday. I’ll come home early. I’ll masturbate in the kitchen. And then I’ll watch the Montel Williams show. And then I’ll pick off my scab. Oh boy, oh boy, I can’t wait to pick off my scab. This is going to be a lot of fun."

So you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait. And you try not to knock it off by accident with the little plastic comb you bought in the vending machine at the Easy Living Motel with the two skanky-looking chicks who gave you the clap that night.

And now Thursday arrives and it’s harvest time. Harvest time on your head. You come home early, you masturbate, but you do it in your sister’s bedroom just to give it a little extra thrill. You know what I mean?

And then you watch the Montel Williams show. Pretty good topic: "Women who take it up the ass for (X) cents". Well. Not the best show he’s ever done. But you know something? Not bad, either!

Now it’s time to go get this little bastard but you want to go carefully. You want to pick this scab off evenly and carefully around the perimeter of the scab so that it lifts off all in one piece. You don’t want it to break into pieces. Who needs a fragmented scab? Not me. Bullshit, fuck you, up yours, get laid, eat shit, drop dead, jack me off, suck this, I don’t need parts that badly, I’m not that sick!

What you really want, what you really must have, what you really need is a complete whole scab you can put down, study look at makes notes on it. Perhaps write a series of penetrating articles for Scab Aficionado Magazine. Who knows you might rise to the top of the scab world in a big hurry. It’s a small community and they need people at the top.

I... sense I’ve gone too far.

So I quit while I’m ahead and I’ll change the subject. This is something I probably told you before I never fucked a 10. Never fucked a 10. But one night I fucked five twos. Twos. And I think that ought to count. Here’s something you never hear a man say: "Stop sucking my dick, or I’ll call the police!"

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