Philadelphia Style: With your standup routine, you have successfully shaken the Danny Tanner persona. Did you feel pressure to do so?
BOB SAGET: I wouldn’t be the comedian I am today without having played that character—but yes, people often think of someone as the character they’ve portrayed, and don’t think of it as acting, which in my case, it actually was. I mean, I have a new DustBuster and there’s a cardigan sweater in my closet, but in my real life I never use them simultaneously. The pressure I’ve always felt as a comedian was to be funny. That’s the job. And it’s also subjective. My stand-up roots go back to downtown Philly in a club called Grandma Minnie’s, and then Stephen Starr’s club, Stars, at Third and Bainbridge, I think it was. My stuff was always sick and twisted, but after eight years on Full House, I think it morphed into something obviously more bent. So the pressure was there from the moment I first started doing stand up 35 years ago.

PS: What are some of your fonder memories of growing up in Philly?
BS: My favorite was my birth at Einstein Hospital. The nurses were very nice to me. They washed me all over, and I mean all over. I know that’s wrong probably to say, but some images are permanent. I also enjoyed working as a deli clerk for years at the Cedarbrook Mall Pantry Pride, which was in the mall that’s now Cedarbrook Plaza. I think I owe that company a lot of money, since I ate all the profits and fed too many friends. I take it personally that Pantry Pride went bankrupt. I also have incredibly fond memories of going to school at Temple University in the TV/Radio/Film department. I am indebted to the education I received there. Particularly to my teachers, Ben Levin, Joan Mellen and the late great Jim Ambandos.

PS: How often do you get back to the city? Anything you like to do when in town?
BS: I’ve been coming home more in the past few years. Most of my family has moved away, but some cousins and a lot of friends are still in Philly. I love the restaurants downtown. So amazing. And it’s so wild that my old friend, Stephen Starr, who literally started me in comedy, is the big macher of restaurateurs in our city. I love doing stand-up in Philly. [I’m] looking forward to returning after a couple years to the historic Tower Theatre. Some say you can never go home again, but I’m one of those lucky people who get to.

PS: What has been the most rewarding part of your career?
BS: My career … that’s a weird one, my career. The most important people in my life are my three daughters, the people I love. But career-wise, I guess the most satisfying things I’ve done would include my stand-up. Projectwise, it was directing the made-for-TV movie, For Hope, which was based on my sister Gay’s battle with scleroderma. She was a school teacher in Bucks County. For Hope touched a lot of people and helped get recognition for a disease that still does not have enough understanding.

PS: How often do you get asked to recite your version of the joke in The Aristocrats?
BS: I always start the Seder with it. There’s no need to ask the Four Questions after I’m finished. I don’t do it much. Once you’ve done it, you’ve done it. I get asked a lot, but it’s based on something so vile—showbiz desperation—that it just doesn’t play in most company. I was in Greece with my girlfriend last year, attending the wedding of my dear friend Jonathan Silverman and his wife Jennifer Finnigan, and believe it or not, the night before her wedding, Jennifer asked me, over several bottles of wine, to do a rendition of the joke for her wedding party. Against my better judgment, I told the joke. A few of the guests did not know my comedy, and I think one of their mouths broke a plate when it hit the table. I yelled “Oopah!” and distracted the other patrons who might’ve spoken English.

PS: If you weren’t a comedian, how would the world know Bob Saget?
BS: I wanted to be a doctor. When I started at Temple University I was attempting pre-med-type classes. I sucked at anything that involved math or science, so I transferred ... to the film department. In today’s Internet world, maybe I could get my degree online, so I guess maybe by now I’d be a gynecologist. What’s that old joke, “I always wanted to be a gynecologist; in fact, I could almost taste it.” Can you print that in your magazine? I don’t think so. Maybe I’d be a shrink, or a record producer. Those are similar fields, right? Honestly, I would want to do something that helped people. So being known is meaningless unless there’s some weight to it where you’re actually doing something for someone or for something. They say laughter is the best medicine. I have a cousin who says it’s not the best medicine— the best medicine is Percocet.