You may know Patton Oswalt “from on the TV box” as Spence from CBS’ The King of Queens, but off-screen he’s an extremely astute and acerbic observer of humanity and all of its “quirks”, possibly on a par with Bill Hicks, Lenny Bruce, or Mort Sahl. Here are a couple of excerpts from a lengthy piece he wrote on his website. It’s worth reading the whole thing.

I voted for McCain in the 2000 primaries. I really, truly liked him. Liked him as a person, a candidate, and would have loved him as a president. He and Russ Feingold proposed one of the most unpopular pieces of legislation and managed to get enough people from both sides of the aisle to back it. That’s leadership. McCain was tainted by his associations with the Keating 5, but it seemed as if he glimpsed a real darkness there, and was atoning for it. That’s wisdom. I’m all for redemption, especially from people who have been to the brink. A knight with rust is a knight I trust, if you know what I mean.

He refused to exploit his time in the Hanoi Hilton. It seemed like an event in his life that profoundly changed him and, like a true warrior, he wasn’t about to burden others with it. Wow.

And he told the religious right to go fuck themselves. Yes.

So I’m fascinated at the McCain I’m seeing now. Can’t get enough of him.

We’ve got ten days to go as I write this.

The hack-y headliners I worked with, back in the day, were always such nice people. They were friendly and helpful and fun to spend an afternoon with. Even though, at their core, they were sad, part of them still loved comedy. And they mourned the cheap road they took and short-term prize they grabbed.

The only times I’d ever see these guys get angry was when they met a younger, dumber, happy hack. Some feature act or emcee that had their future ahead of them, but came out of the womb mediocre, un-creative and stupid. A true believer in the lowest common denominator. Acolytes of the sell-out.

That’s when the hack-y headliner would get mean, rude, and anti-social. For the love of God, at least they came to their mediocrity through long years of struggle capped off by deep, cosmic defeat. But to start out that way? That was an insult to the harsh journey they’d survived.

What form of rage is John McCain tamping down whenever he’s around Sarah Palin? Or the robo-call people? Or when he’s buffeted by the braying, tomb-legion hate-screech of his adoring crowds?

These next ten days, remember – you’re not watching the ugly end of McCain’s hopes. You’re watching the prologue of an epic, redemptive, and cautionary American tragedy.

I can’t wait to read it.