COOK-A-LIZED!!!!

“We just bought tickets to Dane Cook next month!” Eeerrrrpppppp. The record in the room screeched to a halt. I was taken off guard. I did not know what to say. The following was one of the more carefully constructed conversations I’ve had. I should get a Screen Actors Guild award for it. The awkwardness of an American History X family dinner was diffuesd with the precision of the LAPD bomb squad.

To put this experience in my personal perspective, this was along the lines of the conversation I had a couple months ago at a wedding, with a now husky girl from college I had not seen in about eight months. After not crossing paths since college, the last time I saw her was in line at a deli. She was noticeably about 5-6 months pregnant at the time. She told me she was just engaged and living where ever. We cordially exchanged emails we’d never use. So I saw her recently again at a wedding. My first words were the most sincere “Congratulations! How’s the little one?” I could do. “The last time I saw you, you were like what, 5-6 months pregnant??” Considerate of me right?? “What!!” she shrieked. “Me? Pregnant!! Noooo. Oh noooo” (ooohhh nooo ooohhh fuuu**kkk). (When you assume you make an ass out of you and me, right?). I froze. Couldn't have scripted that worse. This said right in front of her new fiancée who did not look very pleased that I pretty much said about his wife to be – that not only did the last time I saw her, around the time he engaged her, she looked second trimester, but now she easily passes for recent post pregnancy. Getting off the Lindsay Lohan diet since school really took its toll. The tension could be cut with a knife. I apologized before I was struck and said, “Please excuse me while I remove the foot from my mouth” and went to the bar to put a scotch right back into it. If you’re feeling bad for this girl, it was not malicious by yours truly, and lets just say that she is renowned for not exactly graduating first in class from Cotillion. During a laugh out loud funny moment in the father of the groom’s speech, she laughed and reflexively let out one of her patented bovine snorts, heard by about 300. Aware of this tendency of hers it was followed up quickly by a loud “Shit!!” which was also heard by most and is most likely on their wedding video. So the above is my field tested tolerance of awkward - I've weathered worse.

The Dane Cook discussion topic was brought up by my roommate’s guest for the weekend, about the amazing plans his fiancée concocted for next month. A very nice, intelligent person too. I could not be rude. If this was a close friend of mine this would have been one of the greatest days of my life. Like a friend telling me their wife just made them buy Celine Dion or Barbara Streisand tickets, season tickets to the Minnesota Lynx, went tampon shopping for three hours. Whatever. I would have had a hay day. But I was faced with an exited guest looking me in the eye. I remained calm, and restrained every ounce of comedic snobbishness in my system. However, with that, it was impossible for me to feign interest or mutual excitement in something I believe with every strand of DNA in my body. I loathe Dane Cook. His rising fame embodies how sadly low the American standards of entertainment actually lie. Spooning down there somewhere with Ty Pennington. His fame to funny differential has set historic records. Cruise control past Margaret Cho and Kathy Griffin. I will openly stand by and defend this statement - I would rather go to a 3 hour Carrot Top show. Flat out superior comic. So, I politely responded to his statement, “Oh yeah? Cool.” “Yeah they are sweet seats” he continued “.. 16th row – but they were like $150 each.” I almost spit my drink across the room. $150?? Holy Hannah Montana you got f*cked! Please tell me Dane Cook snuck into your house and held a PP7 to your temple and made you go on Ticket Master. Please. Something. I remained calm, “Neat.” “Sounds like you’ll have fun” and other cordials not revealing my year plus despisal.

There is not enough time in the day to describe better uses for $300. One thing I know, you better not miss The Stones, U2, Clapton, Page & Plant..EVER when they come to town. Seinfeld tickets were $80!! Yet I see Dane on TV, center stage at Madison Square Garden, completely sold out arena, surrounded by thralls paying $150 and more for his HBO special. Did you read that? ARENA! A craze not seen since The Dice Man, I can only compare the blindness to Joel Osteen followers. They took Dane’s special Double Platinum. Richard Pryor, Sam Kennison, Bill Hicks are all rolling in their freaking graves. This tool is making millions on a path they paved, fueled by legions of Super Fingered fans who have never heard one joke told by these legends. Get er’ done.

This isn’t the first time someone has expressed their love for Dane Cook to me. It is something I remember about you. Like “Meghan’s friend Cindy? Oh.. you mean the one with herpes?” Liking Dane Cook says volumes about your personal tastes. To me it says you don’t truly strive for superior craft, appreciate genuine wit and differentiate skill in humor. You’ll settle for average and call it great, goofy and crass are automatically funny. You’re content in your Nerf to the groin Ray Romano caliber entertainment. You probably own the Drawn Together box set. Wouldn’t mind it if Phil Collins did the Super Bowl halftime with Kid Rock. You dine regularly at Noodles and Company. Your ideal evening is a 12 pack of Budweiser Select and Ultimate Fighting with your girlfriend and Joe Rogan. Your least favorite character in Entourage isn’t Eric. You bought Fever Pitch. You went as K - Fed or a Dick in a Box for Halloween - and were the fifth person to arrive at a party with it. I don’t dislike you as a person if you like Dane, far from, I just know more about your tastes, and I have internally reevaluated the credit worthiness of your opinions. Not in life completely – but entertainment? Yes. I’ll listen to you - but I probably won’t check out a knee slapper you recommend. I have heard several people who I respected on TV, Radio or personally casually use the word “Taint” a favorite of Dane’s, describing the area between your nads and o-ring. I just slowly close my eyes and shake my head. How. How does this happen. You – now?

I gave Dane Cook a chance. One night at a friend’s house his HBO Special was on. We had heard about this hot new saucy Dane Cook comedian guy several times, the buzz of the town, but never actually saw a performance. Exited, we agreed and gave it a shot. 20 minutes into his routine, we had not laughed once.. The opening 20 minutes of a HBO Special. We just sat there. We started to yell at the screen. “Dane….Dane…we’re waiting...Make me laugh Dane! MAKE ME LAUGH!!” But sadly, the laughs never came. Yet his epidemic has spread vigorously… Romantic Movies.. and spread…voice of the MLB Playoffs. I mean he makes Don Cheadle for the NFL look like a resurrected Walter Peyton. Are there worse than Dane Cook for this job? Possibly.. Billy Bush. Billy Crystal. But still, why Dane Cook?? BASEBALL!! TAINT!! I for the first time wanted the FOX robot back. Please. Anything! On Collegehumor.com a few months ago there was a DaneCook-a-Tron. Where you type in a joke for a robot with a Dane Cook head, press enter, and it Cook-a-lizes it.. Not knowing what to expect I typed in ‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ expecting some response like ‘because there is some hot muff on the other side!’…. But what I actually got was “WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD!!!!!!!!!!!” which was so much sweeter.. Cook-a-lized to perfection.

Knowing that Dane Cook is making millions, and SUCCEDING in Hollywood frustrates and bewilders me. I can’t be the only one here completely annoyed by him, yet his base is growing. Who are you? I have not been this frustrated since I saw pictures of Frankie Muniz at the Playboy Mansion, at the Halloween party, in a non descript white mock turtle neck - apparently dressed as the little sperm that he is - standing right next to a Playmate with a spray painted leopard print bikini. Hef. Come on.. You’re killing me! I know you occasionally hang out with the likes of John Lovitz, Rob Schneider and Ian Ziering, but have some respect. Malcolm in the Middle? And he not only got AN invite – but is still getting invites? He’s in syndication! Powers beyond my control are responsible, but do you have to rub it in our face and put it in the mag? Knowing Frankie F-ing Muniz has been in the Grotto brings a single tear to the corner of my eye and slowly trickles down my face. It reminds me of a little saying of mine “Jesus loves me…he just loves Tom Brady a WHOLE LOT more.” It’s true. Where is the justice?

So flipping around the channels yesterday – I hit the end of Dane’s HBO special - and the inspiration for this. At the very end of his show he talks about being at a movie, and pantomiming trying to put a large soda in its holder, circling it around, falling out of his hands and spilling on the ground, making the floor sticky. Mimicking the noise of getting up and shoes sticking to the floor – he jokes the person behind him says “It’s my c*m!” Hilarious Dane!! Soda spills, c*m on floor.. Taint! Taint! Taint!! Double Fingers up. I’m out! I haven’t seen a standing ovation that big since Cedric the Entertainer gave us “When black people break…. WE BREAK!!”

Super Fingers.. Dane’s production company and logo, a hand with a thumb, middle and ring fingers up..most likely what he uses when he fingers Ryan Reynolds and every other frayed patchwork jeans, frosted tipped hair, stitch on the outside t-shirt, homo-seacrest-ual out there. At a rooftop kegger out side Wrigley last year, being out of town guests, we did not get advance notice that in order to attend this party, every male apparently needed to rip the sleeves of their shirt first. It was apparently an organized No Sleeves Party in Chi-town. Late in the party I look over at a buddy of mine, filled with maximum levels of liquor and despair. Penelope Cruz would have looked and said a la Vanilla Sky “E luuks like the most saad person on erf”. I go over to him to see whats up, make sure he wasn’t going to take a leap off the side of the roof.. turns out he had made himself sick with his own thoughts. He looks at me and says softly and drunkenly, “Every girl out there…has already had sex with one of these guys”. He didn’t mean at the party, and “these guys” reached far beyond the sleeveless guests. It was sad. A piece of me died that night.

My feelings on Dane also resemble my feelings for Ben Stiller. Not funny. Goofy. Success far surpassing his talents and tolerance, taking advantage of our reality tv Idiocracy. With solid supporting cast, Stiller has been in a couple good movies, however, watching movies where he is the headline and main attraction kind of make me want to, as one might say, start the car in the garage and do some Tae Bo. Scratch my name on a banister and go visit Brooks. Stiller is a box office mogul. Hollywood powerhouse. I apologize and no offense to the person who had me watch his most recent movie on video. A performance that could have been given by a Jewish Chihuahua on crack. “Da! da! d! d! d! Da! Da! da! d! d! d! Da!!!!” He screams in annoyance at the mariachi band.. Stiller..you…are the mariachi band.
My sister told me one of my favorite stories ever. She was at a movie with my mother..
At the beginning there was a preview for Dodge Ball .. at the end of the preview, right at the time when everyone makes a comment about the movie, my mother says loudly to my sister, “Oh…I just HATE that Ben Affleck!!!” Apparently there were several rows of people laughing at this one.. Funny – Yes - Very funny. Out of touch? Maybe. A possible sage? Definitely. If you dissect it, in one statement she expressed volumes. That not only does she not see or pay attention to their movies, but she cares so little about these two douche bags, she can’t even differentiate them. Kudos mom.
My second favorite example of my mom’s extemporaneous comments came when she was a chaperone at my eighth grade ‘lock in’ at a local YMCA. She was overseeing the gym, in which there was a basketball hoop about 7 ½ feet high. This led to of course some gravity defying Vince Carter action. At one point after a slam dunk, someone was swinging on the rim…my mom sees this and comes running from the door across the volleyball court to the basketball court, waving her arms frantically and screaming “NOOO HAANNGGG GLIDING!!!! NOOO HAANNGGG GLIDING!!!” The slam dunking stopped, and if there was someone standing on top of the basketball hoop, with a 30 foot hang glider about to jump, they heard her too. I’m reminded every once in a while about the strict ‘No Hang Gliding’ rules at that YMCA to this day..