A guy gets a Labrador and he can't wait to show him off to his neighbor. So when the neighbor comes over, the guy calls the dog into the house, bragging about how smart the little guy is. The dog quickly comes running and stands looking up at his master, tail wagging furiously, mouth open in classic Lab-smile position, eyes bright with anticipation. The guy points to the newspaper on the couch and commands: "fetch!"
Immediately, the dog sits down, the tail wagging stops, the doggie-smile disappears; he hangs his head, looks balefully up at his master and says in a whiny voice, "Oh! My tail hurts from wagging so much. And that dog food you're feeding me tastes absolutely terrible. And it's so hot in here. And you're not giving me any treats. And I can't remember the last time you took me out for a walk...."
The neighbor's jaw drops.
"Ah," the dog owner explains, "he's a little hard of hearing. He thought I said 'kvetch!'"
Richard Lewis is a comedian who has perfected the art of the kvetch.
One of the strangest anomalies in the theater is that of the successful turkey -- plays that are essentially trivial, gauche and insubstantial, but still manage to achieve a certain kind of notoriety and even commercial success."Shear Madness," which has been playing for 15 years in Boston, is such a play; so was "Kvetch," which completed a seven-year run in Los Angeles, the same city in which "Bleacher Bums" ran for 11 years."Abie's Irish Rose" racked up 2,854 performances on Broadway --although it's depth could be measured with the first digit of one's pinky.