I GOT A FREE drink at the Ron Jeremy roast ...

But I can't complain, since I'm not paying to attend the event at the New York Hilton. The ticket's a pleasant surprise after covering the preliminary press conference, which, in itself, was an exceptionally good time. You could tell because of aging ponytailed photographers making fun of all the old people.

You can further tell a good time by how often the Smothers Brothers are told to keep quiet. They're comic geniuses and underrated folk legends, but their political insight faded with the heyday of the Purple Onion. As the big names on the dais gather to meet the press (all three of us), hostess Susie Essman-the obnoxious wife of Larry David's manager on Curb Your Enthusiasm-leans in to whisper to Dick Smothers:

"No proselytizing."

"Why not?"

"It's not funny!"

Susie Essman, it seems, is another comic genius.

Speaking of genius, the event includes my personal fashion guru Professor Irwin Corey. The Friars also still corner the market on New York City's scariest character actors. At a glance, there's Alan King, Tony LoBianco, Jack Carter and Marvin Kaplan. And it's hard to miss Dick Cavett-mainly because he's at the foot of the stage, teetering on one foot in a bid to engage the photographers.

A publicist finally drags Cavett away. That's my kind of guy, though, and certainly the type who'd agree with my own belief that political comedy is in dire straits. Mort Sahl and the Smothers Brothers expected their audience to know what had happened that day in Turkey. In contrast, today's political comics hope that their audience hasn't read past the headlines.

"That's an interesting theory," Cavett replies, "and I don't mind associating myself with that theory-but I reject it in totality. You can cut that last part out, naturally. But it's true that Mort made it fashionable to know what's going on. People didn't want to go see him and have to ask their wives who the Secretary of Defense was."

Then he goes on to praise The Daily Show, so I cut that part out.

Things probably can't improve on seeing Bob McGrath shaking the hand of LeRoy Neiman-but then I get that ticket, so I hang around for the roast. The only problem is a waitress' threat to take me to a media table. I wait until Security starts giving me the hairy eyeball, and then find another table with four empty seats. This allows me to eavesdrop on the plight of a desperate stand-up comedian, and how much money there is in big corporate raves.

I'm also able to recognize the low-level porn star who's at a nearby table. The food's okay, too, although nothing extravagant. Everybody's probably saving their appetites. Friday is Lobster Night at the Friars Club, you know.

Anyway, it's no $350 meal. Others agree, it seems, judging from the conversation in the lobby when I step out between the entree and dessert. The co-chair of the Entertainment Committee is having a heated discussion about how Chuck Scarborough's being asked to pay for attending. I get a little concerned that there's a check waiting at the end of my own happy meal.

This becomes a moot point, however, once I return to my table to find that it's suddenly quite full-except, that is, for my own seat, marked by what looks to be a pretty good slice of cheesecake. I'm trying to figure the odds that only three more people arrived in my absence, when a nice lady walks over and asks if there are seating assignments.

"Yes, ma'am, they're right here in the program. And your name, please??Yes, here you are. That's your seat there, at Table 51."

I point her to my cheesecake and get the hell out of there. Sorry, Sally Elkordy, but please try to arrive more promptly in the future. If it's any consolation, you beat me out of my dessert. And I'm missing the entertainment, of course, but there's a Kill Bill screening I have to go see. The movie's pretty good, too, but it'd be even better with Jack Carter in the Sonny Chiba role.

[jrt@nypress.com](mailto:jrt@nypress.com)