MYRON COHEN: RUDE? INVECTIVE? DIALECT COMEDIAN/HBO;WARWICK, RI, 1978: DYING BREED

Myron Cohen was the original "dialect" comedian. Whether it's laughing at his words or trademark facial expressions, his kind of comedy was rare. I stayed home on a Friday night (rare for me, missed "Cinema Night" and watched this brilliant comic with his trademark Bambi ears, bald head, rolling eyeballs, cherub face strut his stuff in a dingy nightclub in Warwick, RI (1978) on an HBO DVD I rented at the Jewish Community Center. Good God, I thought, do you mean to say this place is a club?

Steve Allen called him a "vanishing species": he made fun of the speech of immigrants. My advice to you amateur comics: don't do it, unless you are terrific at it! Myron Cohen preceded Sacha Baron Cohen (Borat) as one of the first "insult" comedians!


Myron Cohen was a travelling salesman, a man used to selling textiles who became a stand-up in his white panther years! : funny, Jewish, brilliant, maybe offensive to the politically correct crowd: a rare, vanishing breed!

Here's some of what he said: Enjoy and Mazeltov!

Salesman's approach: I'd tell a joke; he'd laugh. He'd forget what I'd come for.
He'd sell me a book of raffle tickets. I'd make a sell.

Typical, devoted husband comes home to adored wife. I bought a bargain: 4 white-walled premium tires for practically nothing!
She: What the hell's a matter with you? You don't have a car!
I said, What the hell's a matter with you--you wear brassieres! (Do I have to explain it to you???)

Husband
comes home early. Wife is spread out on bed. What the hell's the matter
with you...cover yourself up! I want to take you out to dinner.
She (takes him to closet): But I've got nothing to wear!
Husband: What about blue one, red one, navy one, BLACK one?

Woman
comes home to husband. He's making love to another woman. She is
outraged, throws him out the window. He lands outside, splattered on
sidewalk, bones everywhere. During the police investigation, she was
asked: Why'd you do that?
She: At his age, if he can make love, I figured he can FLY!

Truth is so much stranger than fiction; I won't lie to you. Two incidents that happened in Las Vegas. Hotel Riveria. A buxom blonde
was sitting at the bar. A young man offered to buy her a drink, and
another, and another! I thought he was ready. He began his approach
(rolls eyes). She: Let's get one thing straight, I'm a LESBIAN, so how
are things in Beirut? (Laughter).

And no more than 100 yards a
black man was beating up a little Jewish guy. Police cam along: what
are you hitting him for? 'Cause he called me a Black Bastard! Jew: I
never called him a Black Bastard! He asked me where is the Riviera
Hotel, and I said you're a Block Past It!

Let me digress for a
moment: Let me tell you about a married man who finds himself with a
woman in a compromising position. Suddenly there's a key in the door.
(It happens). It's the husband.
He: Where's the back door?
She: There isn't one!
He: Where would you like one?

In my 27 years of going to the casino in Las
Vegas, there was a lady of the minute. (That's how much time they give
you). That's how much time it takes for me to take my shoes off for
which I'll forever hate myself. She walks up to a man and says I like
your face...for you $25! I'll do it twice!
He: But I'm only going to be here 6 months. Does that remind you of anything in the family?

Little
Italian man who went into a bank to borrow some money. Bank manager:
I'm sorry, sir but the loan ranger is out to lunch. Italian: If I can't
talk to the loan ranger, I'll talk to Tonto!

Let me tell you
about the Italian photographer who was sent to Rome to photograph the
holy man -- he had taken many shots but this was his crown achievement.
Camera was set and focused. He said many times before to this revered,
respected holy man: Your holiness: Please say CHEESE. The holy man drew
himself up to his full height and said: PROVOLONE! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
MOZZARELL?

I want you to hear a Watergate story to end all
Watergate stories. A couple checked into that Watergate Hotel, in
Washington, D.C., where all that infamous bugging took place. Don't
know whether they were married or single --it's non of my business! He
evidently had something to hide because he began checking drapes,
walls, chairs, tables, under the bed--every thing humanly possible.
Finally he picked up the rug and found 4 tremendously large screws--the
largest ones he's ever laid his eyes on. There's that bugging outfit,
he thought. They're looking to nail me! I'll fix those creeps! One hour
later, he had the screws up. He checked out the next morning. HOW WAS
THE ROOM, the manager asked. VERY NICE! WERE YOU DISTURBED BY COMMOTION
IN ROOM UNDERNEATH? He said NO, WHAT HAPPENED? A CHANDELIER FELL ON A
GUY'S HEAD!

HOPE YOU HAVE A HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY WESTER!