The Evening Independent – 28 Nov 1947
Why does a kibitzer kibitz? Don’t answer. The question is merely a way of getting this Column started. The joke books define a kibitzer as a man with an inferiority complex. He generally resides over your left shoulder like the old maid who reads: Forever Amber, he has his fun without taking any chances.
He’s blood-brother to the circus midget who goes around poking his nose in other people’s business. The Greeks had words for him. Two thousand years back, kibitzers were called Furies, Fates, or sometimes The Chorus. I saw them last year in the Old Vic production of Oedipus. These tipsters in togas followed Laurence Olivier around and wisecracked everytime he sneezed or crooked his elegant pinky. At the end of the plays, Olivier discovered he was married to his own mother. Horrified, he blinded himself. I don’t know if Sophocles intended it that way, but I left the theater feeling that his classical kibitzers were responsible for the first Oedipus complex.
In studying this form of insect life, one must learn to distinguish between kibitzers and sidewalk superintendents. A sidewalk superintendent watches a gang of men digging a hole in the ground and is satisfied. A kibitzer waves his hand at the gent behind the crane and advises “A little to the right, buddy. Let her down easy now.” Most sidewalk superintendents rate a kibitzer two notches lower than the peepingtom.
There are many varieties of kibitzers, including the but-tonholer, the elbow-nudger, and the guy who plays a paradiddle on your collar bone. Its generally agreed that the most deadly of the species is the silent kibitzer. One morning a pair of chess players took their board out to Central Park and sat down on the grass to play. A few minutes later a silent kibitzer came along and sat down beside them to watch. The players were the sort who ponder a move for a half hour, reach out for a piece, and then pull back and decide not to be too hasty.
Through several hours of this, the kibitzer watched patiently. Then one of the players made an unorthodox. move and an argument started.
“I’ll tell you what,” said player No. 1. “Let’s ask the outsider for an objective opinion.”
“I’m sorry,” said the kibitzer, “but I don’t even know what game you’re playing.”
“This I dont understand,” said player No. 2. “Where do you get the patience to sit here all day when you don’t know what’s going on?”
“You’d understand,” sighed the kibitzer, “If you knew my Wife.”
To study the kibitzer in his native habitat, one must go to the outskirts of a poker game. There he can be observed in the wild state. There’s a story around the coffee houses that a harried card player once got temporary relief by putting a mousetrap on his shoulder. A kitbitzer leaned over too far—snap went the trap—and it was weeks before he again could stick his swollen schnoz into other peoples business.
Other methods highly recommended include trap doors, iron maidens, and Chinese water torture Genteel methods seldom work, as is proved by my favorite kibitzer story. A group of card players decided to get rid of a particularly pestiferous specimen. While the kibitzer was answering a phone call, the boys dreamed up a screwball game to confuse him. When the kibitzer softshoed back and took up his coaching position, they began to play. The dealer gave nine cards to each player instead of the usual five. Each man took one of the cards, tore it in half, and handed a piece to the man on his left.
“What are you playing?” . asked the kibitzer. ‘ “Spraff,” said the dealer. “It’s a west coast adaptation of Sprill. Fours, nines and one-Â eyed Jacks are wild unless you have a Flecker, which counts double.”
“Oh,” said the kibitzer. The first player studied his hand. “I’ve got a Google,” he said. “I’ll bet fifty bucks.”
“You don’t scare me,” said the second player. “I’ve got a Guggle. Raise you a hundred.”
The third player said, “This is a cinch. I’ve got a Giggle and I’ll up the pot two hundred.”
The kibitzer clapped both – hands to his cheeks in amazement. Then he stuck his nose into the third man’s ear and hissed, .
“Are you crazy? Against a Google and a Guggle, how can you raise on a measty Giggle?”
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