Welcome to Rock’s World

Any good joke has an element of truth . . . and the truth hurts.

Chris Rock is a provocative comedian who, for more than 10 years, has specialized in delivering pain.

When you witness his probing eyes, razor-sharp wit and scatological, cynical voice as he performs, the last thing you want is to have it pointed in your direction.

Take, for instance, some of the scathing but hilarious moments to be found on Rock’s new DreamWorks SKG album, “Roll With the New,” portions of which appeared on a 1996 HBO special, “Bring the Pain”:

“The Million Man March had all the positive black leaders there: Farrakhan, Jesse [Jackson], Marion Barry . . . Marion Barry! You know what that means? That even in our finest hour, we had a crackhead on stage.”

Or the O.J. Simpson acquittal:

“I ain’t seen white people that mad since they canceled ‘MASH.’ ”

Or his most controversial view, about the cultural civil war within black America:

“I love black people, but I hate niggas. Boy, I wish they’d let me join the Ku Klux Klan. . . . Niggas love to ‘keep it real’ . . . real dumb.”

“Boo if you want,” Rock says, “but you know I’m right.”

The comic brings that playful defiance to the Universal Amphitheatre tonight on his “Roll With the New” tour.

In person, Rock isn’t much different from when he’s on stage. He’s congenial, piercingly intelligent, irreverent and unshakable. And even though he’s not that much bigger than the Tyra Banks-infatuated Lil’ Penny character whose voice he provides on Nike commercials, he appears fearless.

“What’s there to fear?” he says with a sardonic smile while mulling a few French fries. “Unless someone wants to whup my ass.”

“I met Marion Barry after he saw the HBO special,” he says with a laugh. “I know that in his heart of heart, he would beat the [expletive] out of me if he wasn’t mayor.”

While he never tries to get personal, Rock believes that there isn’t such a thing as a joke that’s told in bad taste. “If you’re talking about something that’s public knowledge, that’s OK. Bad taste? When it’s not funny to the audience for which it was intended, then it’s in bad taste.”

Growing up in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn as the oldest of six children taught the comedian a few things about life that would later inform his comedy. First, there was “the dozens,” a verbal defense shield from the teasing he would face from kids in his neighborhood and the racism he encountered when he was bused to a white school on the other side of the borough. The second was the importance of news--and keeping things current. And a final lesson was doing things his own way, outside of the system.

“Have you seen that movie, ‘Welcome to the Dollhouse’? That was a white, female version of my life as a kid,” Rock, 32, says. “The thing that I remember most about being a kid was watching the Dean Martin celebrity roasts on TV. I was this weird little black kid that loved Foster Brooks, Alan King, Shecky Greene, Buddy Hackett and Don Rickles. They, and Cosby, had the kind of humor that a real smart 5-year-old kid could understand.”

Rock, who dropped out of high school in the 11th grade, stopped caring about school, but never gave up his dream of being a comedian. He loaded the Daily News onto trucks with his father, waited tables at Red Lobster and was an orderly with the mentally disabled. All would become sources for humor.

“Comedians figure out the quickest way to say something. Quick,” he says.

“Whatever topic my teacher assigned me at 500 words, I could do it in 200. I learned that from reading the newspaper, which got straight to the fact in the swiftest way possible.”

So, using his observational joke skills, the 19-year-old could say such brutally succinct things as “Miles Davis is so black, he went to a funeral naked.”

And, “Boxers get better the lower you move down the social pole. For every Puerto Rican fighter, there’s an American Indian waiting to kick his ass.”

But his humor has matured. The former “Saturday Night Live” cast member and 1996 presidential campaign correspondent for Comedy Central has learned new ways to write and communicate. “I’ve come full circle. I would never say those things now,” he says. “I was an ignorant kid who hadn’t seen much of his neighborhood.”

“Beverly Hills Ninja” and “CB4” aside, what makes Rock the most relevant stand-up comic working today is the sense of history and method to his madness that many of the vulgar Def Comedy Jam kids haven’t yet developed.

“I been doing this for 13 years, and I have a PhD in comedy,” he says. “I have to be better than some of the other comedians, because otherwise I’d have to go back to the newspaper job. The challenge comes in not making more money, but continuing to grow.

“I just want to be a great stand-up, the kind who like George Carlin, Cosby or Pryor, could make nine albums. That’s what I’m on.”

BE THERE

Chris Rock appears at the Universal Amphitheatre tonight at 8:15. Tickets are $23.27-$48, plus service charges. Call (213) 252-TIXS.