Is This Anything?

by Jerry Seinfeld

  Old Men Love Heat

  Ever been to one of these retirement/resort communities to visit your parents?

  And somehow end up in a hot tub with your father and 3 or 4 really old men?

  And isn’t that the best way to meet extremely old people?

  Half-naked in tubs of hot bubbling water?

  They get out, they look like an ad for gravity.

  Old men can take tremendous amounts of heat.

  Steam rooms, saunas, hot tubs, Jacuzzis.

  They love heat.

  Is Florida not hot and muggy enough for these people?

  I’m sure if they ever try to land a man on the sun,

  one of these old retired guys will be able to do it.

  No space suit.

  Just a terry-cloth jacket and a pair of flip-flops.

  He’ll sit there with a towel on his head going,

  “Close the door.

  In or out?

  Come on.

  You’re letting all the heat off the sun.”

  Kotex Lady

  I’m in the supermarket.

  This is an absolute 100% true story.

  Lady comes over to me and says,

  “Excuse me, could you reach one of those purple boxes on the top shelf for me?”

  I say, “Sure.”

  As I’m getting it, I notice it’s Kotex.

  Right at that moment, swear to god, she says,

  “They’re not for me, they’re for my sister.”

  Okay. So, what am I supposed to say?

  “Yeah, I bet they are…

  I suppose those pantyhose are for your sister too, huh?

  Listen, sugar, why don’t you just cut the goody two-shoes,

  ‘Kotex for my sister’ crap

  and get straight with me right now?

  You never had a sister.

  You never were a sister.

  You’re probably headed for the Summer’s Eve right now.

  I know about dames like you.

  So, you score a few napkins, you move on to the next town and so what?

  Maybe somebody, somewhere falls off a step ladder and breaks their neck.

  What’s the difference?

  It’s just another month to you.

  Another napkin.

  Another town left behind in confusion.”

  Got Old

  We’re pretty irrational when it comes to aging.

  We want so badly for it not to happen to us.

  We’ll talk about other people like,

  “Boy, he got old.”

  Just that particular guy.

  Nobody else.

  Like time is this mob syndicate, just singling out certain individuals.

  “They got Joey. He’s old.”

  Every birthday we say,

  “Well… you’re getting up there.”

  How long does that go on?

  “Well, I’m 110 today.”

  “You’re… there.

  You—are—there—now.”

  Car-tastic

  I love cars.

  It’s my favorite physical object.

  I don’t know why I think this.

  My only theory is,

  when you’re driving:

  You’re outside and you’re inside.

  You’re moving and you’re completely still,

  all at the same time.

  New Car Steering Wheel

  The main thing most people focus on when they look at a new car is the steering wheel.

  They look at the outside, if they like that they get in it and hold the steering wheel.

  They sit there, turn the wheel a few times and go,

  “Yeah, this is a good car.

  This car goes left OR right.

  I need that feature.”

  Sneezing Driving

  The thing that unnerves me most when I’m driving is when I’ve got to sneeze.

  Because you know you’re going to have to close your eyes for that split second.

  And I’m afraid when I open them up, things may be different.

  Like instead of looking at all taillights,

  it’s all headlights.

  But there’s nothing you can do.

  You’ve just got to take that one last look and go,

  “Don’t anybody move!”

  “Aaaaahhh…”

  Traffic Lane Experts

  I love the Lane Experts.

  Constantly revising and updating their lane choice.

  Always got the hand out the window.

  “Can I get in there…?

  Can I get ahead of you…?

  Can I be part of your lane…?

  Ohh, you’re in such a great lane…”

  “Yeah, come on in, pal…

  We’re zooming over here.

  This is the Secret Lane, nobody knows about it.

  I’m letting you in, don’t tell any of the other cars.”

  Leaving Car

  There’s really nothing you can do in traffic but try and see up ahead.

  People are always looking in traffic.

  “I think I see something.

  Can you see anything?

  Are they moving?”

  I love when people get so frustrated in traffic that they just get right out of the car.

  “What the hell is going on up there?”

  They start walking right down the highway.

  The whole car is absolutely worthless to them now.

  They don’t even want it.

  It’s the most expensive thing they own.

  Just leave it.

  Keys in it.

  Engine running.

  I love when this kind of idiotic male,

  “I’m going to do something about this”

  instinct kicks in.

  “The hell with it.

  It’s not taking me anywhere anyway.

  I can go places walking by myself.

  That car was just holding me back.”

  Car Alarm

  The car alarm is designed so that the car will behave as if it were a nervous, hysterical person.

  Anyone goes near it, it just goes, “Waahaahaahaah!”

  Lights flashing on and off, acting all crazy.

  Not everyone wants to draw that much attention to themselves.

  What if a car alarm was a little more subtle?

  Somebody tries to break in the car and it goes,

  “Uh, ahem… Ahem. Excuse me?”

  I would like a car alarm like that.

  Padded Ignition Key

  My friend just got a new car and the ignition key has like a black rubber thing around it.

  Now what kind of an amazing accident happens that your head goes forward.

  But somehow you miss the steering wheel and hit just the key?

  “Look out. Look out.”

  THOK.

  “Oh… I hit the key.

  But there was rubber on the end of it.

  I’m okay…”

  NYC Cab

  The average New York cab ride is still one of the most exciting experiences in the city.

  These guys take chances with your life for 5 bucks that you wouldn’t take for 5 million.

  First of all, the cars themselves are in good condition.

  I’ve never once been in a New York cab that didn’t have the “Check engine” light on.

  I don’t know if that means to check to see if you still have one, but it’s always on.

  I think because you’re watching through the glass partition,

  it’s like it’s all just happening on TV.

  He’s going 90 down a one-way,

  you’re like,

  (laughing)

  “Boy, I wouldn’t try that in my car.

  That seemed pretty dangerous.”

  He’s up on two wheels on the sidewalk,

  “This is a little crazy,

  but I think we’ll be on time at the restaurant.

  … I’ve never seen an
old lady jump straight up like that.

  That’s an impressive amount of spring for an older person…”

  The dumbest thing you can think in the back of a taxicab is,

  “Well, I’m sure the man knows what he’s doing…

  He’s a professional cab driver.

  He’s got a license.

  I can see it right there.”

  I don’t even know what it takes to get a cab driver’s license.

  I think all you need is a face.

  This seems to be their big qualification.

  “No blank heads are allowed to drive cabs in New York City.”

  I believe that’s an ordinance.

  It also helps to have a name with like 8 consonants in a row.

  And some of the letters in these names.

  What is the “o” with the line through it?

  You need a chart of the elements if you want to report the guy.

  “Yes officer, his name was Amal and then the symbol for Boron.”

  Pickup Trucks

  See a lot of pickup trucks in the Midwest.

  What I have never seen is anything in the back of any of them.

  Just eight people all crammed in the front going,

  “Isn’t this great…?”

  The only thing I ever see in the back is a big dog or a guy with no shirt on.

  And they all talk about how someday they’re going to get some shirts and ride up there in the front.

  Sports Enthusiasm

  I love sports.

  But there is a certain critical line of sports enthusiasm.

  Where it can get a little uncomfortable…

  Where people start to act like they are in the game.

  They say things like, “We won! We won!”

  “No, they won.

  You watched.

  Just calm down.

  I saw the whole game.

  You did not play.

  It’s one of the main reasons they won.”

  People get into it like,

  if you beat the team from the other city,

  you win that city.

  It’s yours.

  You go in their stores, take anything you want.

  Rooting for Laundry

  Love my team.

  Even though we know, of course, they’re not really teams.

  We block that out.

  We have to.

  Players go to different teams.

  Teams move from city to city.

  The uniform is the only constant.

  Why am I yelling,

  “Go, New York, go!”

  at a guy from East Illinois that’ll be playing in Phoenix next season?

  That’s sports.

  The uniform is the only constant.

  We just want our clothes to beat the clothes from the other city.

  We’re rooting for laundry.

  That’s really all sports is.

  If a player leaves your team, then comes back and plays against your team?

  The hostility.

  “Booo… Different shirt.”

  Exact same human being.

  “I hate this guy.

  He’s in a different shirt.”

  The Silver Medal

  I think the worst thing in the Olympics is the Silver.

  You win the Gold you feel good.

  You win the Bronze you feel,

  “At least I got something…”

  But the Silver is like,

  “Congratulations, you ALMOST won.

  Of all the losers, you were the best.

  You’re the Number One Loser.

  No one lost ahead of you.”

  I don’t know how they live with that the rest of their lives.

  Because you’ve got to tell the story.

  Everyone wants to hear the story.

  “Wow… Silver medal?

  Congratulations!

  That’s impressive.

  Did you lose by a lot or a little?

  Did you trip?

  Did you not hear the gun go off?”

  And it’s horrible how they can lose by just a few hundredths of a second…

  So, each moment that amount of time goes by he must think,

  “It was just from ‘there to there.’

  That’s how much…

  It was just th—.

  I trained. I worked out.

  I never had a date.

  I never had a drink.

  I never had a beer.

  I was doing push-ups when I was a fetus.

  I traveled halfway around the world.

  The uniform… everybody I knew in my whole life was there… my parents

  The gun went off, got to the end, and then it was just, ‘tht’

  —and I lost.

  That much.

  That was it.

  Just from ‘now to now.’

  ‘N— to n—’

  Just ‘nt—’ and it was over.

  It was a photo finish.

  (in profile moves head a tiny amount)

  “It was Gold… Silver… Bronze… Dead Last.”

  (head slightly in front)

  “Greatest guy in the world.”

  (head slightly behind)

  “Never heard of him.”

  “If I had a pimple on the end of my nose,

  I would’ve won.”

  The Platforms of Humiliation

  Then they have the award ceremony with those Platforms of Humiliation.

  “Because not only are you not as good an athlete as the winner, we want to give the impression that you’re a much smaller person too.”

  (Second-place winner looking up at first-place winner)

  “Well, con… grat… u… la… tions…”

  Why don’t they get rid of the platforms,

  let the second and third person lie naked with their hands and feet tied, the winner can stand on their faces?

  Maybe then it would be clear enough.

  Biathlon

  The Biathlon is a favorite of mine.

  Biathlon combines skiing and shooting a gun.

  How many alpine snipers are into this?

  Seems like two totally unrelated things.

  It’s like combining swimming and strangle a guy.

  You swim a lap,

  throttle a guy,

  kick turn,

  back across the pool.

  Platform Diving

  On the other end of the Olympic spectrum you have like, Platform Diving.

  Where the judging is so critical, it’s too depressing to watch.

  If the diver makes too big a splash going in the water all the judges are like,

  “What the hell was that?

  That was the dive?

  Well, that’s just no good at all.

  Look, one of the drops landed right here on my shirt.

  All the flipping, turning and twisting in the air means nothing now.

  No, sir. Not if you’re going to make a splash like that.

  He’s just going to have to learn to slow down before he hits that water.”

  The Involuntary Luge

  The luge is another great Olympic event.

  It’s on the bobsled run.

  But there’s no sled.

  It’s just Bob.

  I think it’s the only sport I’ve ever seen

  that if you had people competing in it against their will,

  it would be basically the same thing.

  If they were just grabbing people off the street.

  (fighting back) “Hey, hey, hey… I don’t want to be in that.”

  Then strap them to the thing and shoot them down the course.

  We would have no way of knowing.

  He’s got the helmet on, so we wouldn’t hear the screaming.

  “Sorry, buddy, you’re in the luge.”

  World record.

  Didn’t even want to do it.

  They should try it in the next Olympics.

  Call
it,

  the Involuntary Luge.

  Pedestrian Rodeo

  What do I do for entertainment in my spare time?

  One thing I really enjoy is to see someone on an icy sidewalk slip a little and almost fall.

  I don’t want them to really fall.

  I just love that, “Whoa, whoa…,” look on their face.

  People will actually say “whoa.”

  There are no horses anywhere in the area.

  It’s impossible not to say, “whoa.”

  It’s Pedestrian Rodeo and the object is to stay on as long as you can.

  It’s amazing how just a slight little loss of footing erases a lifetime of building confidence.

  You see straight through to this totally insecure toddler that just wants Mommy.

  Then just as quick they snap right back to secure, stable person again.

  “No one saw.

  Just keep walking…

  No one knows who I really am inside.”

  Call Waiting

  I called the phone company the other day to see if I could get that Call Waiting thing.

  I love that thing.

  You’re talking with somebody.

  Click the button.

  Get a new person.

  The other person has to wait.

  Sealed inside the Call Waiting Isolation Chamber.

  (Hands on glass)

  There’s nothing they can do.

  Only you can get them out.

  Ever see people’s faces on Call Waiting?

  It’s like their soul has left their body.

  “Are you talking with someone?”

  “I don’t know… I was…

  I don’t know… what’s happening…”

  The ultimate phone accessory would be

  if they had a thing that makes your phone immune to Call Waiting.

  So people try to get rid of you,

  but they can’t.

  They click the thing and you’re just,

  “I’m still here, Fred.

  I’ve got Call Waiting Kryptonite.

  Now why don’t you take your hand away from that button and listen to what I have to say?”