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You'd think a guy whose culture allowed him to make a living by smashing fruit would be a little flexible himself, but the 1990s have somehow hardened the one they call Gallagher. Ten minutes into Smashing Cheeseheads, a 1997 Wisconsin performance, the comedian absolutely rips into an audience member who is trying to slip into his seat a little late. This proves to be the launching pad for a half-hour-long vitriolic rant on common sense and societal standards. Part of the problem with this act isn't necessarily Gallagher's fault. The man just radiates 1980-something, and it's therefore a little jarring to hear names like O.J., Tyson, and Bobbit escape beneath his mustachio. But what really doesn't fit, and what is easier to blame him for, is the anger that fills the monologue, almost to the exclusion of comedy. It's not a problem that Gallagher suffers alone--George Carlin and Dennis Miller also at times seem to have forgotten the funny stuff that offered them the leverage to get on their respective soapboxes. By the time he gets to his trademark show-closing routine (Pop-Tarts smacked with tennis rackets, olives whacked with Ping-Pong paddles, and, yes, watermelons smashed with sledgehammers), one begins to see the whole food destruction thing in a whole new light. It's apparently not comedy anymore, folks. It's some sort of therapy. --Bob Michaels
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