Cornball on rye
Funnyman Pat Cooper cuts the mustard in E. Side deli gig
TALK ABOUT aham — on wry.
Standup comedy legend Pat Cooper brought his biting sense of humor to a venerable upper East Side eatery Wednesday night, and no one escaped his sharp tongue — including himself.
The acerbic Brooklyn native served up wisecrack after wisecrack at P.J. Bernstein Deli on Third Ave., slicing and dicing hungry regulars, startled first-time customers and his own reputation.
“What the hell am I doing here?” the meatball-busting Italian-American funnyman growled from his new standup spot behind the old-fashioned deli counter. “When you finally work a deli, it’s th the end d of f your career.” ”
Cooper was the first of four comedians scheduled to perform their routines in the deli on successive Wednesdays to mark the 30th anniversary of the long-popular pastrami palace.
Fellow laugh-getters Dave Konig K i and d th the St Stone B Brothers th — Adam and Todd — are slated to take the unusual stage on the third and fourth Wednesday, while the deli is keeping its second act under wraps for now.
“You come in, have a nosh and laugh,” said owner Alex Slobodski.
As the big cheese Wednesday night, Cooper wore a white apron P H
over his black turtleneck as he O T
dished out laughs — and refused to O B
crown his full head of white hair Y P
with a paper deli hat. EARL
“I feel like an idiot with an G A
apron on,” he grumbled. B
“I’m 84 years old,” Cooper E L
said, working up to his zinger. / D A
“People tell me you look good. ILY
I’d rather be 40 and look old.” N E
One longtime fan said Cooper W S was still the best thing since sliced bread.
“It was so unique and so fun,” customer Gene Fais said after ordering matzoh ball soup.
“My folks used to watch Cooper on TV, on ‘The Jackie Gleason Show,’ ” said Fais, 71. “He hasn’t lost a step. He’s such a character.”