Bretton, one of our favorite comedians, taped his HBO special last weekend. It was the big time too. He had some kind of stage background that attempted to ascribe a theme to him (in this case, a science lab), he had bottles of water on a stool, and he found a way to tie his jokes together at the end into some serious social commentary to lift him from the level of mere comedian to humorist.

Here’s some excerpts from his performance:

I love how those things you use to put staples through a document to hold it together are called “paper take-aparters.” And it’s like, why are they called that? They actually do the opposite of that! I just notice these little things in life like that. I’m weird that way.

But, seriously, y’all, society’s fucked up. (Take swig of water and proceed to next joke.)

My girl watches all those reality shows. It’s crazy, y’all. (applause, hoots from the guys) What is it, uh, “American Idol,” “Project Runway,” “Amazing Race,” I don’t know what all, “Project fuckin’ American Amazing Dance Dance” all that. You notice they’re all “amazing” something or “American” something or “project” something? I can’t even keep the shit straight, y’all. Sometimes, I’ll be like, “Honey, you watching ‘American Runway’ tonight?” or “Hey, do you want me to TiVo ‘Project Race’ tonight?” And sometimes, if I’m not careful, it can get me in a big heap o’ trouble! One time, we were at the Chinese restaurant, Chinese families all around us, you know, and I yelled out to the waiter, “Hey, waiter, can I glet my chleck prease? Ploject Idor?” For real.

I don’t understand why, in this time of terror and violence, President Bush also wants to do away with love and caring. (applause) For example, no gay marriage. He wants to make gay marriage unconstitutional. Well, sorry, Mr. Bush, but here’s your amendment right here (Puts up middle finger). (Huge rafter-trembling applause.)

Friend: I understand you’re applying to art school! That’s great!

Hitler: Yeah, just, I really want to pursue this painting thing. I’m coming up with some great stuff whether it’s landscape, still life, you know, even some of the modernist/abstract stuff that’s happening. I’m particularly interested in experimenting more with uses of light. Evoking the warmth of sunlight through painting. I’m actually working on a satirical piece in which I show a ceiling in like a stifling business office and it’s got all these ugly industrial lamps, but, instead of the harsh cold light that they emit in reality, I paint the light coming out of them to be like sunlight and that kind of warmth, if you know what I mean. And I’d like to do a series of about 14 of those, each kind of depicting different configurations of those lamps and different offices and different levels of abstraction, you know? But just to show warmth leaking into even these harsh industrial or stuffy beaucratic or business offices. Like, how the sun pokes through even in the most isolating of circumstances. I don’t know, not to be schmaltzy, but I’m into that kind of symbol of hope and all that I guess. And I think this school I applied to has some great teachers and a wonderfully encouraging community of artists who can really help me shape these ideas, to visualize them.

F: That’s neat.

A month later:

F: Hey, I hear you didn’t get into that art school. I know you were really looking forward to going. I’m very sorry. I hope you’ll keep pursuing painting though. You will, won’t you?

H: No, I’m going to do something else.

Hitler’s hedcut from 1933 Wall Street Journal article praising the new German Chancellor

The two lowest-scoring contestants, DIRK and SPIKE, are called to the Judges’ Table where PADMA LAKSHMI, TOM COLICCHIO, and GAIL SIMMONS will eliminate one of them from the competition. Dirk looks contrite. Spike sighs heavily and can’t believe he’s in the bottom two.

PADMA

Spike, Dirk. Your two dishes were the judges’ least favorite. Unfortunately, one of you will be going home.

She looks to Tom to summarize the situation.

TOM

That’s right. You know, both of you really fell well short of the mark tonight. And, in this competition, you can’t afford to miss a step. Spike, your shrimp obelisk tasted terrific and really showed your maturity in terms of deveining. However, the rest of the judges and I just have to tell you that the auditory quality of your food, the inexplicable sort of high-pitched grinding sound it emanates, somehow, dish after dish, is very off-putting.

Spike just gives him an insolent stare.

TOM

And, Dirk, we appreciate the ambitiousness of your dish but I’m not sure why you would give us chicken blenzine and not acid-crust it. That just…It doesn’t make any sense to me at all. It made Gail cry and Ted can’t be with us now because he snapped while trying to get his mind wrapped around that dish. So, unfortunately, one of you has to leave the competition.

Gail tears up again.

Tom looks at Padma to let her issue the final verdict.

The music swells, Padma gives it a few beats so the camera can get one more look at the contestants, their sweating brows.

Finally…

PADMA

Dirk, please pack your knives and go.

Dirk drops his head in sad acknowledgement. The only thing that gives him any kind of solace is that, in telling him to leave, Padma finally looked at him for the first time in this competition. Spike blows out a sigh of relief and gives Dirk a manly half-handshake/hug type of thing.

DIRK

(To the judges)

Thank you for the opportunity. It was great.

Dirk returns to that loading dock-looking area where the remaining 11 CONTESTANTS wait to hear what happened. Dirk does a cool “peace out” type of gesture.

DIRK

It was me. I’m out.

Spike pats him on the back. The others give the obligatory appearance of being shocked and hug Dirk one-after-the-other like they always do.

Dirk talks to the camera in the interview room.

DIRK

Well, my time at Top Chef is over. But you think that means I’m done as a chef? Am I just going to give up the thing I love most? Ha!

Dirk gathers up his belongings alone in the kitchen.

DIRK (VO)

Yes. Yes, it does mean I will just give up. I don’t know why I said, “Ha!” a few seconds ago because I will definitely give up cooking. I’ve lost so much confidence that I can’t even imagine successfully feeding myself at any level. Yes, I’ve wanted to be a chef all my life and love the kitchen so and it’s the one thing that connects me to my dead mother, but even the slightest hint of failure tends to spiritually obliterate me to the point I’ll give up even what’s most important to me at the drop of a hat.

If, for example, I had invented the time machine, when the first person I would have come over to test it out sat in it and said, “Hmm. This seat is kind of scratchy,” I would have immediately yanked the guy out of the time machine and said, “You know what? Never mind. This isn’t a good idea,” and tossed my invention into the woods somewhere. A curious raccoon would no doubt have probably walked across the dashboard such that it would have started the wretched machine (you really think I would be smart enough to have included any kind of safety lock or something?). The machine would have taken the creature back to the 1830’s and it would have found its way through the open window of the infant Rodolphe Lindt’s bedroom, chewed him to death, and I would have been kicked off this show two episodes ago for not only having “deep-seated toast point issues,” as Tom termed it, but also for causing the non-invention of conching. And, without chocolate conching, there wouldn’t even be any candy bars for me to drown my desperation in.

Anyway, I felt my imminent failure since the first Quick Fire Challenge when the guest judge, Anthony Bourdain, broke into knee-slapping hysterics after tasting my Chilean sea bass curry, but then looked at my sour visage and said, “Oh. You weren’t kidding.”

All the flavor profiles I’ve developed over my years and years and years of cooking might as well be the very opposite of flavor profiles. It’s done. You won’t be hearing a lot more from Dirk Voetberg.

He looks at the last knife he’s about to pack.

DIRK (VO)

Maybe I’ll keep this one at the ready.

He lifts his chef jacket in the back and slides his knife in his belt in the back of his pants.

DIRK (VO)

I just realized someone else probably would have invented conching if Lindt hadn’t. My example was useless.

He walks towards the glass door emblazoned with the “Top Chef” logo and pushes it open as he makes his final exit.

DIRK (VO)

I am nothing.

The Top Chef judges in this picture