Louis C.K. could quite possibly be the funniest man alive. Just watch his appearance on Late Night with Conan O'Brien from Friday night HERE. C.K.'s observational humor is not nearly as off the wall as the late great George Carlin, or remotely as annoying as Jerry Seinfeld, but more attune to the every man. Joe Six-Pack, if you will. Even his delivery, which lacks finesse, is more of an outburst that one can liken to any one of us spewing an angry "AAAARRGGGHH," when our Metrocards aren't read after 5 swipes at a turnstile.
So it was with great anticipation and joy that I dove into his Showtime special "Louis C.K.: Chewed Up" on Saturday evening, only to be crushed with an onslaught of scatological humor and shockingly blue and uncomfortable material about his children.
I wasn't offended by the material in and of itself. I was just amazed at how unfunny most of it was. This isn't new to me. I've seen Louis C.K. plenty, and I know he can get under your skin and make you squirm. He mostly aims to shock. But after his brilliant routine on Conan, which I assumed was scheduled to promote "Chewed Up," I felt gypped. It was 55 minutes of shock. My wife and I stopped laughing after 5 minutes and spent most of the performance just saying 'Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God!"
The same thing happened to me last Saturday while watching Chris Rock's HBO special, "Kill The Messenger." For 15 minutes I sat in awe at just how hilarious and important Rock's material was. Bits about racism, politics, and America all hitting home with that unmistakeable Chris Rock delivery. Then, BOOM! 30 solid minutes about f**king. Again, I'm a big boy. I wasn't offended by the subject matter, I was insulted by just how unfunny and uncomfortable it was.