To win with defeatism

“Oh, God, I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Andy Cowan says for the third time in as many minutes. The former “Seinfeld” writer and self-described neurotic is talking about a new radio show he’ll be cohosting on KLSX-FM (97.1), and he’s just stopped midsentence with apologies about not getting enough sleep and a tendency to ramble. It’s not shtick -- he’s genuinely distraught that the interview isn’t going well.

He’s already apologized repeatedly for making this reporter remove her shoes upon entering his Santa Monica home. “I’m a bit of neat freak,” he explains. “I was just out on the streets and I watched a lot of people hocking loogies onto the pavement, and I don’t want to increase the likelihood of one those loogies making an unwelcome visit in my apartment.”

And his shades are drawn so that no sunlight comes through. “I don’t need to be ultra-aware of all the dust swimming in the atmosphere,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, do I really want to get a suntan at the expense of bleaching my furniture?”

This pessimistic outlook is what Cowan intends to channel into “Up and Down Guys,” in which the downbeat sitcom writer will be paired with the upbeat Santa Monica psychologist Scott Kopoian in what Cowan describes as “an interactive therapy session coupled with a comedic talk radio show.” The show is still awaiting a spot on the air.

The unlikely duo met at an even unlikelier venue five years ago -- a singles event. Cowan went with a friend who met his future wife there. That woman came with her ex-boyfriend, who turned out to be Kopoian. “My friend and I both got long-term relationships that night,” says Cowan. “Of course, I would have preferred a female long-term relationship, but Scott and I had a weird chemistry and as I got to know him better, I started to think there was something to the yin and yang of ‘up’ and ‘down’ personalities.”

His notion resulted in over 50 episodes of “Up and Down Guys” on the NWEZ website, where the show gained a cult following in cyberspace. Each week, Cowan brought his quirky observations about politics (“I wish the candidates impacted me more personally -- sure, health insurance is important, but what about failed date insurance!”), day-to-day life and the Hollywood piranha pool to Kopoian, or “Dr. K.,” for analysis.

The hour also featured input from chat room listeners, interviews with studio guests -- including Cowan’s cohort of former “Seinfeld” scribes -- and recurring segments such as “Why I Feel Guilty This Week” (“I feel guilty resenting a lower life form who has it better than me, like a dog in Bel-Air”), “Personal Ad Reviews” (“ ‘Dale Evans seeks Roy Rogers to ride into the sunset with’ -- if that’s her reference, she must be 90 years old! Or stuffed, like Trigger!”), “Virtual Date” (“I call up the rare woman who’ll take my call in this town -- the directory assistance lady”), and “Unemployment Tonight,” glitzy “Entertainment Tonight”-style profiles featuring the 90% of Hollywood that’s out of work.

“It was like the vaudeville of the 21st century,” Cowan says of the Internet show. “It allowed us to experiment and be good and bad, like the Marx Brothers used to do.”

Earlier this year, the cyber-show came to the attention of KLSX program director Jack Silver, who was “looking to cultivate new personalities for our formats.” “Up and Down Guys” is part of this mission.

“I want to see if there’s a diamond in the rough,” he says. Silver has also commissioned two other new “beta shows” this summer, one cohosted by Drew Carey and former “Simpsons” executive producer Sam Simon; and “Two Chicks and a Bunny,” featuring Kerri Kasem, Casey Kasem’s daughter. He plans to bring them back as fill-ins this fall.

The home of Howard Stern and Tom Leykis may seem an odd fit for a personality more akin to Woody Allen’s. “I’m hoping there’s an untapped audience of neurotic people that haven’t been properly serviced by the airwaves,” Cowan explains. Bruce Kirschbaum, the Emmy-winning sitcom writer who will appear as a guest on the radio show, thinks there is.

“There’s nothing funny about a person who’s satisfied with life,” Kirschbaum says. “ ‘Seinfeld’ was all about identifying with doubt and insecurity and unhappiness. It’s amusing to see other people suffering in that way too -- you feel better about yourself. And Andy is wound so tight that if I pulled my finger back and flicked him on the side of his head, he would ring like fine crystal for 15 minutes.”

Sam Kass, another “Seinfeld” buddy who will be the “Up and Down Guys’ ” wry entertainment correspondent, puts it this way: “Here’s a guy who’s saying, ‘I’m not the only sad sack around and I come back each week and I haven’t killed myself.’ It’s uplifting.”

Cowan, who is slight with dark hair and professorial glasses, grew up in Abington, Pa., a suburb of Philadelphia. He earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology at American University and a master’s in broadcasting at Boston University before returning home to write and do on-air spots for television and radio news. At night, he tried doing stand-up in Philly and got laughs for impressions of Tom Snyder, Jimmy Carter, Walter Cronkite, and Eric Sevareid.

“I knew I had to move to either New York or L.A. to pursue comedy writing,” Cowan says, “and I figured L.A. was slightly more temperate to starve in.”

But Cowan didn’t starve. He got hired on “The Merv Griffin Show,” where he wrote Griffin’s monologues, interviewed guests and performed stand-up on the show five times. Next came writing gigs for “Cheers,” “Seinfeld” (he penned the season finale “The Opposite”) and “Third Rock From the Sun.” He created several network pilots and won a CableAce Award as creator, writer and host of Showtime’s “6 Minutes,” a “60 Minutes” parody that even earned praise from Don Hewitt.

“Story of my life,” says Cowan, the quintessential Down Guy. “I won an award that’s now defunct.” While self-deprecation comes naturally to Cowan, talking about his family on the airwaves might take some getting used to. In fact, Cowan hasn’t told his father, mother and twin sister -- who will call in to report on “the quirks of mine only she could be privy to” -- just how autobiographical the show will be. “You have to be honest, or it’ll seem phony,” Cowan explains. “I want to be candid about my family but in a comedic rather than a vicious way.” Then, feeling guilty, he adds quickly, “Not that I have any reason to be vicious.”

Some may compare “Up and Down Guys” conceptually to “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” “Seinfeld” co-creator Larry David’s neurotic, semiautobiographical HBO series, but Cowan doesn’t see it. “My show is far more creatively challenging than Larry’s because he has a life!” Cowan quips. “I have no life! I have nothing to draw from. I don’t even have a cellphone. Do I really want people not calling me in my car when they already don’t call me at home?”

Cohost Kopoian, who’s had a private therapy practice for 18 years, says Cowan is typical of the comedy writers he treats. “Writers are tough to work with,” he says. “They’re intellectually rigorous, and the ones who are funny tend to have a lot of misery in their lives. There’s a pocket of dissatisfaction, and it’s very hard to break through.”

Still, the Up Guy is characteristically optimistic about the show’s ability to do good. “There’s a lot of slash and burn on the radio today, and it’s not promoting the best in people,” says Kopoian. “I focus on wisdom, problem solving, emotional intelligence

Trevor Oliver, who evaluates new programs as vice president of talk operations at Premiere Radio Networks, which syndicates “The Phil Hendrie Show” and “The Dr. Laura Schlessinger Program,” believes that “Up and Down Guys” will find an audience -- but it might take time.

“Right now talk radio is so dominated by politics that it’s difficult getting other types of programs on the air,” he says. “But it’s a cyclical business. Eventually programmers will start looking for creative concepts again, and Andy’s is very original and engaging.”

Oliver isn’t put off by the navel-gazing aspect of the show. “The main point of Dr. Laura is the help and advice and solutions,” Oliver says. “But a smaller part of the appeal might be our own wicked sense of curiosity about other people’s neuroses -- and that’s what fascinates me about Andy’s show.”

While Oliver likes the tapes he’s heard, he says he’ll be curious to see how the show does locally. “I think it can work, but it’s risky,” he explains. “When Phil Hendrie signed on to Premiere, he had a long track record at KFI and the audience adored him. Andy has a long track record in the television industry but not in radio. It’ll be good for him to refine the show, develop it with a radio audience, and prove himself in that arena.”

For his part, Cowan says he just wants to get a date, even if the medium allows him only to hear, rather than see, the female fans who call in. “Fortunately, I’m very auditory,” he says. “I always wanted to give George a line on ‘Seinfeld’: ‘Blind men have it made. They don’t need a cute woman -- all they need is a woman with a nice voice.’ There are millions of women with nice voices.”

After taking his glasses on and off to ask which look would be more flattering to women viewing his photograph, Cowan lowers his booming voice to a virtual whisper.

“You know, seriously, radio is a very one-on-one kind of communication.... It’s very personal,” he says. “And this show combines everything I’ve done up to now. I really feel like this is my muse. This is what I was meant to do.”

Two weeks later, Cowan is in a funk again. “Happy Rosh Hashanah,” he groans over the telephone. “I hope your year is going better than mine.” It’s the first day of the Jewish New Year, and Cowan has just received news from KLSX: They’ve postponed the show’s September airdate to the next available test slot -- either Thanksgiving weekend or over the Christmas holiday.

“See, this is the problem with speaking to the outside world,” he says before immediately apologizing for his negativity. “I don’t mean to whine. It’s just that I’ve had so much smoke blown up my posterior in this town, my [rear] has emphysema.”

Still, Cowan finds a silver lining in the disappointing news. “This may sound sick,” he muses, “but being the Down Guy just got easier.”