There's an inherent problem with Cook's act, however: There's doesn't seem to be anything at stake. Not every comedian needs to be explicating a high-minded moral code (like, say, Bill Hicks) or a blessedly mundane one (like Jerry Seinfeld). But every great comic must use his act to create friction—some value must be rubbing up against another value. When Cook begins to crack wise, he seems merely to be describing the benign hang-ups of the college/post-college set rather than actually weighing in on them. In Retaliation, for example, Cook confesses that he desperately wants to own a pet monkey. He would give the monkey a sword and dress him in a suit of armor, he says. "How pumped would you be driving home from work knowing that some place in your house that there's a monkey you would battle?"
Give Cook points for giving voice to the secret dream of 22-year-olds across the land. (It's like Dane knows me and my friends!) But once you've passed the age where you're charmed by the comedy of recognition, you realize that Cook doesn't add very much value. There's no philosophy underlying the joke, even a goofy dorm-room philosophy. So, why do we want monkeys, exactly? Why not some equally exotic creature? Is this why we constantly fail with girls? Dude, hello?