Tickling the New Yorker's Funny Bone

Tickling the New Yorker's funny bone by taking all the Shouts and Murmurs writings they've had over the years and condensing their tone and humor into a stand up routine. Solid gold.

"Hi everybody, it's great to be here tonight. Before we get started, did you notice the vending machine they have out in the hallway? That thing is amazing! Ya put in your quarters, pick out the pieces of lint, make your selection and an honest to god arm comes out and picks your drink up and gives it to you! That's nuts! And to think that the vending machine industry is dead these days. I would gladly pay all my money just to see that thing in action! I know the bigwigs at the vending places had someone working on this all night. 'What have you got? A spring loaded cannon that shoots the drinks out? No good, too many lawsuits. What have you got? A see through vending machine that shows the process of getting your drink to you? Ehhh, too voyeuristic! Hey, what have you got? A robotic arm that chooses your drink? Well now, that's more like it!'
And hey, what's the deal with this magazine? Is it a New Yorker on the front cover, or what? It looks like nobility to be honest. And believe me, most New Yorkers are as far from nobility as possible. To most New Yorkers, you know you're noble when you can get a cab anywhere, anytime, make reservations when you feel like it, and have a secret parking space that's all yours. Now that is nobility! Sure, you could wear your crowns and capes and the scepters and all, but parking spaces? Now that's power.
I was on a date last night and I noticed that my very lovely date had the latest New Yorker magazine in her purse. I was about to comment if she'd read the article on designer solar panels becoming in vogue, but then I realized, 'Wait a minute! What's the deal with women putting these magazines in their purses!' Purses aren't meant to carry magazines! That's why you have back pockets! Or if push came to shove, you could carry it with your hands! And then as the date progressed, I saw her rummaging around in there. So I said, 'Hey, what's in that thing?' and she said, 'Oh, just a few things. Just some things.' Well, a few things does not weigh five pounds. See, that's why it's called a purse. Women put so much stuff in there that when they have to lift it, it's so heavy that they strain and purse their lips trying to keep it on their shoulders. And then when it reaches critical mass they shove it off to their boyfriends to carry so that they can have both hands free while the poor schmuck schleps behind the girlfriend just trying to keep up. And then inevitably asks the girlfriend, 'Hey, whuddya got in this thing?' And you know the rest. 'A few things.' You see this all the time in New York. I didn't understand what was going on at first. I thought sailors were just walking around out of uniform carrying their seabags until I realized that it was boyfriends carrying their girls' ginormous purses! I passed a guy carrying a hot pink zebra striped purse that was the size of Macy's. All I could do was shake my head as I went past, 'oooh, not good, not good. Next is your hair and shoes.' You know that little whipping motion you make when a girl's got a guy to do everything she says? No matter how ridiculous? I think we should change that to just the motion of picking up a purse. Y'know, just to let the guy in question know that he's practically submitting himself to a relationship that involves the lifting of heavy stuff. 'Hey, how's Bob and his girlfriend?' 'Oh, his girlfriend's great, but Bob is [and then you make the lifting motion of the purse]. And when I saw how heavy the purse was, I asked Bob and said, "Bob, just what is in that thing?" And then he said-'" Eh, but you know the rest. A. Few. Things." [Insert slap bass riff, keyboards, weird mouth popping sounds, and studio audience laughter]