Cinco

America's king of clean comedy delivers wickedly funny jokes in his fifth hour-long special. On the highway of stand-up comedy, there is the fast lane, (the devilish, white-knuckled derby of profanity and stripped confessions of yuksters like Kevin Hart, Jim Jeffries, and Amy Schumer) and there is the slow lane given over to the angular, avant-garde pontifications of folks like Steven Wright or the decidedly lowbrow nut-kicks and rib-tickles of, say, Jeff Foxworthy or Ron White). Almost everyone else is somewhere in between. But virtually owning the middle of the road is 49-year-old, long-time married, father of five, and admittedly average Midwesterner Jim Gaffigan, who mines the Everyman world for unexpected laughs, stuffing his hot pockets with misanthropic observations and flicking his sharp, though unsalted, tongue at the concerns most pressing for the nation's Regular Joes and Janes--our waistlines, our myriad, often desperate obsessions, the cockeyed falsetto of our own needling inner voices, social awkwardness, as well as bologna, cake, donuts, daily recommended servings of furit, soup, cheese and butter.