I discovered Bill Hicks very late indeed at the start of 2021 (thanks to the Netflix release of several recordings, including his final live performance). In fact, I discovered his work at about the age he was when he delivered it. I’m taking this all as a positive omen that the changes he so eloquently called for are now coming into their own time.
At any rate, what an incredible mind he had. I think some of the less savory elements (merely the detritus of his era) got rubbed off his act over time, and seeing his final performance was eerie and powerful on so many levels, especially because it crystalized so much of his burning passion at the evil in the world and the sheer, overwhelming (and often-wasted) potential of the species.
His repeated onstage pantomime of his murder at the hands of the establishment, his (correct) marveling at our penchant for killing off any voices that call us to a higher level of consciousness, his mingled cynicism and idealism, his prescience about his own young death, and above all the sprinkles of philosophy and spirituality culminating in the wonderful “it’s just a ride,” — therefore live and let live, and stop hurting each other.
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