It's nothing personalSeinfeld doesn't think much of peoplein general. There's a distinct, misanthropic bite to his routines, though it'soften disguised by his disarming grin. Seinfeld's America is populated by lazy,overweight schmucks, slaves to the cookies in their cabinets and conned intobuying an unending succession of worthless junk.“I'm not the guy you remember,” Seinfeld told the crowd,explaining that after his sitcom ended he traded in bachelorhood for marriageand three kids. But aside from a few new Ray Romano-ish bits about maritaletiquette, he was the guy weremembered, the funny comedian with the excitable voice, spinning snarky,almost always hilarious “tsk-tsk” rants about the most tread-worn topics, likecell phones, elderly drivers and cereal. “Life cereal,” he said in one bit,marveling at the self-important brand name. “A touch grandiose, isn't it? Whydon't they just call it ‘Almighty God?' Or ‘New Almighty God with Raisins?'”
The night's most scathing quip was directed at an earnestfan who, apparently enjoying the comedian's routine on cluttered garages,yelled out a related, suggested topic: “Attics!” “Attics,” Seinfeld repeatedwith bemusement. He apologized for not knowing any attic-related comedy, thenwent for the kill, cutting down the fan for interrupting his bit:“Unfortunately for the rest of the audience, I wrote my routine not knowingyou'd be here tonight.” The crowd roared with approval. It was a remarkable scene:Seinfeld had completely eviscerated a well-meaning fan, but he in doing so witha smile, kept the audience in his favor. That's Seinfeld's balance: For a guyso patronizing, he sure is likable.
