""You appreciate different things later in life," he said, in his new touring show, "Ridiculous," which he performed at the Beacon Theatre, in New York City. One of those things is buying boneless, skinless chicken breasts, opening up the package, and finding a meat-juice-absorbent pad inside. "I fucking love that pad," C.K. said, "because I always forget I'm gonna see it. Every time I'm, like, Oh, yeah, what the fuck? It wakes me up. Like, it's proof that I'm really here.""
""You know what this place does? You know what they do? You give them money. And they take your father.""
""Nobody gets to fifty-eight single without a horrible fucking life, and you get to hear about it every day. It's the best.""
""The magazine is saying, if you read this, you're not a pedophile-you're not literally a pedophile-but you're so close.""
Louis C.K. performs a new standup show, Ridiculous, and releases a debut novel while attempting to reintegrate after sexual-misconduct fallout in ambiguous post-#MeToo circumstances. He emphasizes aging and mundane pleasures, favoring comfortable but unfashionable stage clothes and jokes about boneless chicken pads, bad weather, and placing his father in a nursing home. He relishes conversations with women his age and skewers youth-focused media like Barely Legal. His comedic approach remains provocatively moralistic, setting up moral lines only to obliterate some of them, and he occupies a space neither fully exiled nor fully welcomed back.
Read at The New Yorker
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