CREEMEDIA

I’m not exactly sure what happened, but the guy who stands to greet me as I enter the publicist’s office can’t be Bob Goldthwait. I mean, he kinda looks like Bob (“Bobcat” to his friends, fans and pets), but the long, straight mane of hair he sported on a couple of cable specials and a recent spoof of Bono in Rolling Stone has been mercilessly cropped, and the calm voice and friendly handshake could hardly belong to the manic comedian whose tense onstage delivery is punctuated with the trembling, high-strung whines of someone whose psychological roller coaster is about to jump the tracks.