If you’re unaware that Bob Saget’s sense of humor is the complete antithesis of his character on the long-running family sitcom, Full House, or as the host of America’s Funniest Home Videos, than I suggest you hunt down a copy of the filthy movie The Aristocrats and spend a night in. In fact, his vulgar comedic sensibilities came so far before his role as the doe-eyed, feather-coifed father of 3 that it’s a wonder he even landed those roles in the first place. What goes without question is that his sitcom career will forever me immortalized in Saget’s punch lines as he spends a great deal of time on his newest album, That’s What I’m Talkin’ About, reminding folks of that he is friends with John Stamos and Dave Coulier. The real star of the album, second only to Coulier, was Bob’s father (“He would just tell me sick shit, which is why I became a comedian before I did anything else”) who’s stories and anecdotes serve to illustrate and explain the reasoning behind Saget’s comedy.
Now as a self-proclaimed horrible person, I was expecting a lot from ol’ Bob. I have seen him perform and was a fan of his stints on The Green Room with Paul Provenza and The Comedy Central Roast of Bob Saget. I was truly ready for the worst, meaning the best, of raunch and unfortunately felt the he leaves something to be desired. Right off the bat, Saget sets the tone by saying, “I want to apologize before I even begin, I don’t want to offend anybody I want to offend everybody.” But the album doesn’t really offend anyone, which is exactly what the audience is kinda waiting for.
His constant apologies beg the question, why do you apologize so much Bob Saget? Known as someone who’s mildest humor lies on the fart end of the spectrum and goes on to cross lines that can’t even be mentioned here. But this time around Saget didn’t actually have anything to be sorry about. He starts seemingly with pre-written jokes on audience members, musing on having sex with the women in the crowd, relying heavily on dick jokes, and other dirty topics (“You’re laughing at poop jokes already, I want to live here”). But the shock value falls short sometimes, with one-liners hang in the air without any real substance. There’s no doubt that he would have attempted to riff more as he is not one to let an innuendo slide by (“You’re in the back, do you like it in the rear?”).
He finished the album with some songs, including “Butt Plug Made Of Leather” and “The Biggest Wiener,” which felt a bit out of place but were the highlight of the album and seemed well received. As someone who made a stand-up career on X-rated jokes, this album was wildly watered down. Don’t get me wrong, I more than most love poop and dick jokes, but simply firing them off without any sort of direction doesn’t always make them feel universally clever. I mean, one cannot live off of butt sex, wieners, farts and, well, more wieners, alone. Or can they? As Saget quips, “I don’t care if that’s a negative reaction. You’re still laughing and that’s all that matters.”