In an immaculate record of his one-man show, the self-appointed superstud levels his sights against anyone who isn't black, male or Murphy. Women come in for more than their fair share of the offensive, as castrating bitches whose duty is to fuck husbands and cook burgers for hungry sons; the predatory infidelities of men, however, would seem excusable through Nature, Destiny, or simply because it's Okay with Eddie. Lisping gays, Rocky-obsessed Italians, whites in general, and Murphy's rivals are also subject to the foul-mouthed brew of complaint and contempt. It's impossible to deny the virtuosity of his non-stop delivery, but the relentless macho onslaught sadly lacks the saving grace of Richard Pryor's self-irony. Even if Murphy doesn't mean what he says (and he probably does), laughs are forestalled by the feeling that it's all too mechanically manipulative.