I don’t know what I like better about Jim Gaffigan — his dry, pessimistic wit or the giggle-inducing turtlenecks he used to wear before someone probably told him he looked like a man-baby.
My first introduction to Gaffigan was in 2001’s Super Troopers — “Excuse me, are you saying meow?” — but the first time I watched some of his standup I was with my mother. She was raised strict Irish Catholic, but is by no means (sorry, Ma) still a practicing Catholic. While his bit about Catholic mass sent us both into hysterics — especially the bit about daydreaming about fast food during mass — his tiny asides in the voice of a dissatisfied audience member sometimes run to the edge of being too over the top for my taste.
When the side comments work, they really work, but occasionally I find myself wanting the next joke to begin — or for him to dig that wicked-awesome turtleneck back out of his dresser.