Roseanne Barr's new stand-up act takes a topical turn. Photo by Ralph Fountain.

Time-share promotions and apocalyptic comedy aren't always the best mix.

When Roseanne Barr asked how many people believe Armageddon is here, few people in her opening night audience at New York-New York were willing to respond.

It's not like you're going to slow down a famous comedian's act by asking her to clarify the question: "Do you mean, in the general sense that if we attack Iran, all bets are off? Or are you asking if we're one of those fundamentalist 'Left Behind' readers?"

Barr responded to the deafening silence by telling the crowd they only care about "gambling and liquor and prostitutes." But she really couldn't blame the audience -- at least beyond reaming out whoever came up with the bright idea of giving away tickets for her edgy act through a time-share developer on the Strip.

If you won tickets on the radio, you might not have been quite ready for "We'll all be dead within two years anyway. Try to make it right with God and people you've offended. Seriously."

Folks who may have thought they would hear Barr's late '80s housewife humor got their first clue things had changed with opening act Jackie Beat, "a big ol' scary drag queen" who sang a filthy ode to "BOB," her "battery-operated boyfriend."

Barr's new stand-up act seems similarly retooled to land somewhere between Bill Maher and a gay club. It took some time to sway people over to her new brand of bitchiness, and she's enough the old veteran that she immediately reversed course and re-routed the end-of-the-world talk to later in the set.

By then, fans had more time to absorb the 54-year-old comedian's update on the "domestic goddess" they met 20 years ago; one who is looking good -- unlike her first husband, who didn't have plastic surgery -- and willing to admit she's older, wiser and "hate(s) everybody" except her grandkids.

After a rocky start -- some of it due to first-night glitches with the lights and sound -- Barr put the crowd more at ease with riffs on more familiar subjects such as menopause and aging baby boomers: "I'm a multitasker. I pee when I sneeze."

Later came more embarrassing questions: "How many people here are on drugs?" Or, "How many men here are on the Viagra?" By then, the response wasn't so stone cold, even if the musings on the overmedication of society floated somewhere between traditional punch lines and Dr. Phil sofa rant. ("Maybe you're supposed to be depressed.")

The comedian plans to be in residence at the casino through April 30, which is enough time to adjust the act if she doesn't pull in more people attuned to what she's up to these days. Even with this crowd, people were generally in the spirit of things by the time she shuffled through the questions they submitted for "psychic predictions."

"Will my husband ever get his Agent Orange benefits?" "Just as soon as I'm invited to the White House to sing the 'Star-Spangled Banner.' "

You may or may not miss the milder Roseanne that once doled out the fat jokes with her benign buddy Louie Anderson. But more than likely, you will be glad Anderson never thought of a climactic version of "My Way" in which Roseanne reveals more than what's on her mind.

Remember, she tried to warn you about the Apocalypse.