AMY 1, DAVID 0

I've come to the conclusion that I don't like David Sedaris's humor. Or let me rephrase: I don't like it when David Sedaris tries to be funny. He's probably a decent fellow and clearly he works hard at his craft, but he stumbles because too often behind the laugh, behind the smile, lurks a sneer. Go on, he seems to dare you, laugh at the absurd shortcomings of my characters. And we do, but I always get the feeling that David isn't laughing with us. He's watching us laugh, trying to figure out why, and whether that reason reveals something unworthy in us. Maybe that's why his sketches about homosexuality are, to me, some of his least funny. "You want to laugh at my gay antics?" he seems to say. "Fine, but just what does that say about you? Are you sure that's wise?" Sedaris is no Richard Pryor or Rodney Dangerfield, neither of whom was afraid of his inner fall-guy; instead Sedaris's self-deprecation seems measured, calculating, and the quickness with which he shifts from goofy, bumbling everyman to caustic, withering scold is unsettling. Suddenly you realize this queen has nails: humor is his weapon, and you wonder whether in real life he's sizing up everyone as a potential target. It aborts the humor, like watching Stan Laurel moon and dissemble, and then knife Oliver Hardy in the back.

To be fair, some of his stuff is just brilliant, the apogee of satire. But that other side rears its head often enough to make you wonder: "what's his game?"

Now that Amy Sedaris, she's funny. Piglet? Christ, I thought I'd die laughing.