On "Seinfeld," George (played by Jason Alexander) was a neurotic magnet for disaster, most of which he brought upon himself. He was a lazy, cheap, cowardly, selfish schlub; like his pals Jerry and Elaine, George lied to get around obligations and awkward social situations and it all came back to bite him. He was the meanest non-Newman character on the show; remember his joyous response when his fiancée Susan dropped dead after licking the toxic envelopes to their wedding invitations? George's only redeeming quality was his pathetic self-loathing: "I come from a long line of quitters. My father was a quitter. My grandfather was a quitter. I was raised to give up." And David, Seinfeld and their writers seemed to take particular delight in contriving humiliating final-act paybacks for Georgie Boy.

Indeed, George's jackass behavior set in motion some of the series' most memorable episodes. In "The Contest," his mother catches him masturbating, falls over in shock and ends up in the hospital, which leads to the "master of my domain" wager among George, Jerry, Elaine and Kramer. In "The Opposite," he acts against his loser instincts and winds up with a beautiful girlfriend, an apartment and a dream job with the New York Yankees. In "The Blood," he becomes obsessed with scoring a "trifecta" of Costanzan pleasures -- having sex, watching TV and eating, all at the same time. Oh, George, what a schmuck you were. And how we miss you!

It might seem odd that David is remaking "Seinfeld" in his own image (forget the "summer of George," this is the autumn of Larry), but, then, much about David is odd. Writer-producer David meticulously oversaw the first six seasons of "Seinfeld" (he was also the voice of George's boss, George Steinbrenner), infusing the show with his surrealist sensibility and harsh irreverence. He walked away from the show in 1996 at the height of its popularity, but returned two years later to write the final episode, where Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer are put on trial and sentenced to prison for being nasty, self-centered and lacking in compassion toward their fellow citizens.

A former New York stand-up comedian, David rarely performs for audiences these days (one notable exception was a recent appearance at a Gore/Lieberman fundraiser in Beverly Hills). But when he does, his routine marries New York Jewish sarcasm, sharply absurdist scenarios and social observations that dance on the border between good and bad taste -- the "Seinfeld" formula. In one of his stand-up bits, he plays Jonas Salk's mother boasting to the neighbors about what a genius her boy is; in another, he asks the question, "Did Clinton actually think he was going to get blow jobs from a Jewish woman and that's gonna be the end of it? No consequences?"

Balding and bespectacled like his "Seinfeld" alter ego, but tall, thin and dour where George was short, tubby and excitable, David is more Ichabod Crane than Humpty Dumpty. In "Curb Your Enthusiasm," he's owlish, self-centered, whiny and fixated on the minutiae of life; in one episode, he decides not to reach down and return an errant golf ball because he's put off by the bolo chin strap on its owner's sun hat. David is thoroughly disagreeable. And that's what makes "Curb Your Enthusiasm" so deliciously perverse, and so true to the impeccable nastiness of "Seinfeld." For those of us who've been making do with syndicated "Seinfeld" reruns, "Curb Your Enthusiasm" is the treat of the new season. NBC thinks it's going to rekindle the old "Seinfeld" flame with "The Michael Richards Show," but "Curb Your Enthusiasm" is the real "Seinfeld" sequel.

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