Those too young to remember Andy Kaufman's antics may have at least seen the bio-flick Man on the Moon, so you'll understand the point. Kaufman's comic schemes turned his audience into the punch line. The joke was always on whoever happened to catch his act.

Another starter, grilled feta and vegetables, is more of a cruel, sophomoric farce. Either some prankster in the kitchen sprinkled feta wedges with salt before slapping it on the grill or excess saline from the cheese bled out to the surface. Whatever, as salt corrodes the flesh inside your mouth and eats away at your stomach lining, images of the Ancient Mariner come to mind. The texture is just right, mind you — pleasantly tacky. But it really doesn't matter much when your tongue feels like it was scraped by an old razor. Not even assistance from the grilled vegetables helps because, despite some nicely charred carrots and bell peppers, an apparent accident with a vat of oil turned my order into a slimy mess.

The Kaufmanesque humor continues. Order the chicken cordon bleu as a main course. Soggy crust, bland meat, gooey and flavorless cheese, watery processed ham — you trekked all the way to Prague and ordered one of those college cafeteria specials. In fact, most college cafeterias serve a more appetizing version and now you're stuck with the thing. Get the joke?

On the other hand, Globe's salsa is a welcome reminder of good old Tex-Mex fire. An initial burst of vegetal sweetness disguises, momentarily, the scorching burst of chili to come. For a moment, you are sitting in an Austin bookstore, poking aimlessly on the computer and munching chips.

That's the character profile of Globe's food: from parody to straightline, with one really good condiment — which may be part of the joke, as well, come to think of it. Even the cappuccino seems like some kind of stunt. Mine, ordered to finish off a second visit, had been frothed with such aggressiveness the milk fizzed like Alka-Seltzer.

Oh well. The once-venerable institution exists for purposes other than dining. Despite new ownership and a new coat of paint, pretty much the same milieu exists. There are books and magazines up front, public computers and wi-fi, guys with near-mutton chop sideburns idling over a chess board, 30-something adolescents in do-rags and baggy jeans flirting haplessly with students ... the ambience found at Eskimo Joe's in Stillwater or anywhere on Sixth Street in Austin — which makes it a comfortable place to kill time.