Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

The Seinfeld trip was a success. Our seats were in the middle balcony, which I had not been in since years ago when HH's first boys were young 'uns. At that time, the height did not bother me. We were really, really high up. I think the elevator mistress said '5th floor'. We could have taken two sets of stairs from the back of the main level, but why hike up the mountain if the the elevator will bring the mountaintop to you?

Last year at this time, when we went to see Kathy Griffin, the temperature was in the teens. Last night, it was 65 degrees. What a difference a year makes. Must be the global warming, huh? HH was upset that the wait at the bar upstairs was 20 minutes. He gave up after 10. He could have taken the elevator down and gotten one in the main lobby in that time.

My sister and the mayor came in about 10 minutes before the show. They had left at 3:00 and stopped for food, oh, and gone mall shopping. They came in at the top like us, and one of the Methuselas told them to ask the Methusela at the bottom of their section, who told them their seats were back up where they came from, about midway up that section. So they got to climb the mountain anyway.

Here are some snippets from Mr. Seinfeld:

E-mail is the worst conceivable way to communicate with anyone. It is for people who like to hear themselves talk. The only more backward way than e-mail might be smoke signal, message in a bottle, or a pigeon who knows where he's going.

I can cure the sexual disfunction problem of that couple with the two bathtubs. First of all, how about getting in the same g*ddam hot tub? Why drag two 5000 lb. cast-iron tubs up a hill to sit and look at the sunset, while holding hands outside the tub? No wonder you have no energy for sex! Who has two clawfoot bathtubs, anyway? And you don't have to warn me to see a doctor if my erection lasts four hours. I would be calling him on hour three. But first of all, I want to know what he plans on doing about it before I don my poncho and waddle down there.

Big weddings are a mistake. Nobody wants to go to your wedding. Think of the best party you ever went to. Nobody invited all the oldest people they know. The bride decides that she needs 20 extra feet of material on her dress to drag behind her. You don't hear the groom asking for 20 extra feet of pants on his tux. My single friends tell me about their girlfriend problems. That's whiffleball, my friend. You are sitting on a park bench blowing on a pinwheel, and I am driving a truckload of nitro down a dirt road.

Dads are really not needed around the house. A dad is like a day-old helium balloon. What is this thing? Why is it here? Should we pop it or play with it?

Every year, I face the Birthday Party Infinity Wheel of Hell. And every January, it starts all over again. Is it just me, or do other people's kids just not look quite right? Have you seen this inflatable bouncing thing? It's like a portable insane asylum for kids. You put them through a slot, and then they show you their true nature. When they're done, you take them to the Mini Van Paddy Wagon and strap them in. Go ahead, scream all you want. You're not gettin' out.

At the movies, they tell you to pick up the trash as you leave. They are forgetting the understanding. Theaters charge us an outrageous price for snacks, and in return, whenever I am done with something, I open my hand. I don't care where it rolls. I'm not picking up three Milk Duds stuck in some Pepsi since The Shawshank Redemption. Wait a minute, I'll run home for my orange jumpsuit and my stick with a nail in it.

The restrooms have toilets now that can anticipate your needs. When you stand up, they flush. The sinks are not so intuitive. You have to do a David Copperfield routine to make it work. Hey, Toilet! Vouch for me to the sink. You would think they could make those dividers longer in the bathroom stalls. Next thing, they will be like real stalls. While you're sitting on the toilet, your head will be hanging over the door like a horse. Yeah, Bob, it's me. This is why I had to leave the meeting in the middle. It's not like it would be expensive to make those walls go all the way to the floor so you don't have to see those sad shoe-tips poking out from the pile of collapsed pants. You occasionally see a panicked eye staring back at you from the gap.

For an encore, Jerry took questions from the crowd.

What's the deal? The deal, apparently, is what you say when you talk about me on the Howard Stern show.

Do you want to sign Superman? (A lady walked up to the edge of the stage.)
Sure, but I can't now. I'm kind of busy.

Here's a pen. (She threw a stuffed Superman and a pen at Jerry's feet.)
Or I could do it now. I'll look for this later tonight on eBay. Do you realize there are 4000 other people here?

What are your favorite episodes? Well, I tend to like all of them that I am in. But specifically, I like the ones where things happen to the characters. I like The Marine Biologist, where Kramer hits the golf ball into the whale's blowhole, and the one where George poisons Susan with the envelopes, and the one where I get to chase the old lady with the Marble Rye.

Do you still have the Puffy Shirt? No. The Puffy Shirt is hanging in The Smithsonian Institution. That's what America has become. The Gettysburg Address and the Puffy Shirt are housed in the same building.

How do you like the Raspberry Patch? Oh, you know the location of my home in Denver. That doesn't make me at all uncomfortable. I'll be sending you the location of my kids shortly.


The great Jerry Seinfeld. His performance wasn't all that great, but it wasn't for lack of trying. He seemed to have a cold, though hopefully it wasn't that little problem his accountant had on one of the early episodes. The guy who opened for him, whose name escapes me, but has supposedly been on The New Adventures of Old Christine, which I don't watch, was just as funny as Jerry. But like Jerry said, "I've got a lot of money, and I'm content."