George Carlin’s “Modern Man” Rap

Forty years after George Car­lin first stopped by The Tonight Show (1966), he made one of his last appear­ances, deliv­er­ing a rap/poem that’s clas­sic Car­lin, a hyp­not­ic riff on mod­ern life and soci­ety. The lyrics appear right below.

I’m a mod­ern man,
A man for the mil­len­ni­um,
Dig­i­tal and smoke free.
A diver­si­fied mul­ti­cul­tur­al post­mod­ern 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 bicoastal mul­ti­tasker,
And I can give you a giga­byte in a nanosec­ond. (The rest after the jump…)
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 from a data­base,
And 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,
Rid­ing the wave,
Dodg­ing a bul­let,
Push­ing the enve­lope.
I’m on point,
On task,
On mes­sage,
And off drugs.
I got no need for coke and speed,
I 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 big­foot slam dunk rain­mak­er with a proac­tive out­reach.
A rag­ing worka­holic.
A work­ing raga­holic.
Out of rehab,
And in denial.
I 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 and an over-achiev­er.
Laid back but fash­ion for­ward.
Up front,
Down home,
Low rent,
High main­te­nance.
Super size,
Long last­ing,
High def­i­n­i­tion,
Fast act­ing,
Oven ready,
And built to last.
I’m a hands on,
Foot loose,
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 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 in a mega store.
I eat fast food in the slow lane.
I’m toll free,
Bite sized,
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,
Pre-heat­ed,
Pre-screened,
Pre-approved,
Pre-pack­aged,
Post-dat­ed,
Freeze-dried,
Dou­ble-wrapped,
Vac­u­um-packed,
And I have an 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 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 lunch time is crunch time.
I’m hang­ing in,
There ain’t no doubt.
And I’m hang­ing tough,
Over and out.

Lyrics via Met­ro­Spir­i­tu­al