CD: "Werewolves and Lollipops" by Patton Oswalt; Sub Pop Records

My view: Now that he's taken a star voice turn in "Ratatouille" as the rat chef Remy, Patton Oswalt may finally shake off the mantle of most underrated comic working in America. Known to frat-boy audiences for his Comedy Central roasts of more famous people, playing Spence on the perpetually blase "The King of Queens" and a regular spot on the VH1 series "The Best Week Ever," Oswalt toiled in C-list obscurity.

But to get to the heart — and talent — of Oswalt, you've got to experience his standup routines. His approach to jokes is always fresh and clever. His delivery is near perfect, commanding the jaded average Joe persona as well as Lewis Black plays the angry political analyst from hell.

"Werewolves and Lollipops" is cold, hard proof of Oswalt's comedic prowess and the best example of how his pop-culture commentary is dangerously intelligent and incredibly scathing with few to no punches pulled. Right off the bat, he targets American laziness, saying fast food piled into one heap (a la Kentucky Fried Chicken's Famous Bowls) is a precursor to a device customers use to inject a liquid lunch into their femoral artery.

Oswalt also skewers President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney, comparing them to Bo and Luke Duke — both pairs weekly get themselves into predicaments with no foreseeable solution, explains why he was fired from "Best Week Ever" (thanks to a comment about Paris Hilton that's absolutely unprintable), and grills the suburban lifestyle that spawned him in Sterling, Va. According to him, you fail the "small-town test" if you choose a life of employ at a Citgo station for free gas instead of leaving home.

Sounds elitist? Oswalt's not scared to expose his own faults, flaws and insecurities.

He calls himself unprofessional and a nerd, a claim he proves with his complex analogies that go beyond simple observational humor. In one bit, Oswalt compares George Lucas producing the "Star Wars" prequels for backstory to substituting a picture of Angelina Jolie with one of Jon Voight's privates.

But through all of the bluster and borderline whining, Oswalt never strays from his line of logic. His jokes are taut and straightforward — the product of years of fine-tuning his act. Too many comics today chuckle or snicker at their own material — even Oswalt did so on "No Reason to Complain," his previous CD — but that doesn't happen on "Werewolves."

After listening to this CD, once the laughs have settled and the tears have been wiped dry, you could find yourself asking how Oswalt isn't more famous. Why he isn't starring in movies when far less-talented comics (think Dane Cook, Larry the Cable Guy and Kevin James) are getting lead roles. The trick is to not think about that too much and enjoy what's available.

Jeremy Castillo, who received an associate of arts degree from Windward Community College, is a student at the University of Idaho.