As Patton Oswalt nears his fifth decade in the entertainment business, the Emmy and Grammy Award-winning comedian shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. First rising to prominence as Doug Heffernan’s nerdy buddy, Spence Olchin, on the hit CBS sitcom The King of Queens, Oswalt has since appeared in countless other beloved TV shows and movies. Some of his noteworthy credits include Seinfeld, Two and a Half Men, The Simpsons, Family Guy, and, of course, Ratatouille. That’s to say nothing of his prolific output as a stand-up comic.

Oswalt’s new special, Tea & Scotch, is his 11th filmed performance to date. In anticipation of the show’s June 9 release on YouTube, we figured we’d touch base with Oswalt and delve into the past and present of his extensive career. Among the topics we discussed were the longevity of comedians from his era, things that haven’t aged particularly well, and the actors that influenced him over the years. Check it out below.

I remember being impressed when George Carlin celebrated his 40th anniversary as a comedian because it seemed so uncommon. Now you’re approaching your 40th anniversary, and others from your generation are, too. Why do you think younger comics have a tendency to stick with stand-up?

I was talking to Maria Bamford, and she suddenly says to me, almost as if she was having the epiphany in real time, “Oh, that’s right, we always get to do this.” Stand-up as an art form is a living, evolving snapshot of one person’s life and their reaction to and opinion of it—which is why, I think, a lot of younger people are kind of seeing the job security of it all. AI might be able to craft technically “funny” jokes, but it will never have a point of view that comes from living a life of heartbreak, joy, accidents, massive f—kups and real growth.

Your new special is called Tea & Scotch. What’s the story behind that?

The titles of my specials and albums are never consciously connected to anything within the special but, later on, I realize I was subconsciously expressing something I didn’t realize was eating at me. And right now, the way we’re living, it’s all either soothing tea (which nevertheless fuels us) or bracing scotch (which, despite its initial jolt, dulls us). Maybe I’m struggling with how I’ve so willingly embraced living under these two extremes, and fooled myself into thinking it’s somehow healthy?

The bit where you talk about your daughter criticizing the original Halloween really resonated with me. I went to a screening of it a few years ago, and people were laughing and groaning throughout. Do you think people are just too desensitized to appreciate it at this point, or did they always feel that way and we never noticed?

I think it’s that some stuff doesn’t age well. And what’s amazing about Halloween is that it’s still a near-perfect movie—I think Roger Ebert described it as “a machine built to terrify you.” But the world itself grows and becomes wiser, and things that seemed like revelations when they first came out become second nature to the next generation. Also, Halloween invented a lot of tropes that were ripped off (and continue to be ripped off) so clumsily by subsequent filmmakers. I guarantee the audience that was laughing and groaning still had an amazing time at the movies, and would tell you, “Oh yeah, there were some parts that were kinda hokey, but, f—k, that movie still rips.” 

What’s amazing is John Carpenter’s The Thing—which actually blends some humor into the mix—still holds up wonderfully today, with a perfect ratio of laughter and screams. Just an amazing night at the movies. On a similar note, I remember when The Exorcist was re-released in the late ‘90s and I saw it at Mann’s Chinese and the audience was stone-dead, heart-frozen, terrified silent. Same with a screening I went to last year of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. A whole room full of people baffled at how a 50-year-old film was grabbing them by the base of the spine. 

I could be wrong, but this appears to be the smallest venue you’ve ever filmed a special at. Is there a reason you switched things up this time around?

I did some shows at Comedy on State in Madison, Wisconsin a few years ago and I was blown away by how electric and just plain present the crowds were. By the time the weekend was over, I knew that’s where I was gonna film my next special. Small and raw and intimate. I still love the big streaming platforms, but a lot of them seem to send some pretty brilliant comedy specials down a digital black hole. This was a chance to own my product, control the distribution, make sure the right eyes got on it. Roll with the new, always.

In the liner notes for the George Carlin Commemorative Collection, you said that you thought Carlin entered the millennium with his eyes too wide open. I’m curious which material in particular you were referring to.

I was referring to a lot of the (very) painful self-reflective stuff that he puts himself through as far as how the boomer generation—his generation—failed. A lot of the “Peace, Love and Understanding” stances from the Summer of Love were so easily co-opted and marketed. And he owns it. And he shows how those failures led to a lot of the mess we were in when he was filming this material. 

I don’t get directly into it in this special (I’m gonna go way deeper in the one I’m working on now), but a lot of the “ironic” racism and homophobia that Gen X indulged in in the late ‘90s/early aughts set the blueprint for the whole “it’s just jokes” dodge that actual racists and homophobes are using now. And we need to own that, and find a way beyond that. Every generation does what it can, and every generation ultimately falls short—you gotta own your failings and hold ‘em up so the next generation starts from, “Okay, first off let’s not do that.”

You stirred up a bit of controversy in 2014 when you admitted that you never found Lenny Bruce funny. Richard Lewis even wrote an op-ed in The New York Times responding to what you said. Have your thoughts changed about Lenny at all since then, and did you ever get a chance to talk to Richard after that?

I spoke with Richard over texts and voicemails, but he was also going through a lot of medical stuff and we never got to get together. But it bothered me that people misunderstood what I was saying—or simplified it into a soundbite or pull-quote. Me not finding Lenny Bruce funny doesn’t mean he wasn’t funny. I was being honest about how his stuff was too out of context for me to really laugh at, that if I’m being totally honest I can appreciate his genius, acknowledge what he did, and be aware of the debt I owed to him as an artist and a performer. But his stuff never made me laugh, and that’s me being honest, even if it makes me look bad. Which…I think Lenny would’ve appreciated? Maybe?

I wrote an article recently about the time you stood perfectly still for an entire scene during an episode of The King of Queens. That seemed to go unnoticed for a while. Is there anything else you guys did along those lines that people still haven’t caught on to?

Um…there’s a few things. And I think I speak for the rest of the cast (and the genius writing staff) when I say we’re all kicking back with big goofy smiles on our faces, waiting to see who else notices in the coming years. Or maybe never?

Is it true that they almost wrote Spence out of The King of Queens after the second season? I can’t imagine what the show would’ve been like without all those later storylines.

Hoo boy, I’d never heard that. I’m sure if that had been in the air it would’ve gotten into my head and I would have blown it. So I’m glad I’m only finding out now.

You’ve mentioned your stand-up influences on a number of occasions, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you talk about your acting influences. Who inspired you in that area?

My biggest acting influences were great character actors, especially people during that golden window of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s when absolute reality was celebrated onscreen. People like Warren Oates and Billy Green Bush and Allen Garfield and Barbara Loden and Jennifer Warren in Night Moves and especially Lily Tomlin in The Late Show and Nashville. Richard Pryor in Blue Collar, holy s—t. You felt like you were catching them in the middle of their day instead of fresh out of the make-up trailer. 

Was there something in the air back then? Because even the work that the big lead actors—Dustin Hoffman in Straight Time and Ellen Burstyn in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore and Nicholson in The Passenger and Five Easy Pieces—the way a lot of movies are made now, the danger’s been mitigated. At least, I don’t see that deep a version of the rawness anymore. Well, it’s still there in the indies. God bless Sean Baker and Kelly Reichardt and PTA. And Dale Dickey.

You once wrote that all great comedy is “Obnoxious, funny, true, and mean.” Do you still feel that way these days?

I was quoting a Liz Phair song “Flower,” and I still believe it. But what I think she was saying—and what I was agreeing with—is that those qualities need to be directed towards the ones doing harm, being mean and obnoxious, and not the ones being harmed by the mean and obnoxious. But, like I said earlier about Gen X’s ironic racism, that got twisted. 

What else do you have coming up? Any other projects in the works?

Too many to name. I hate talking about things in utero, so here’s some cryptic nonsense: Comic books, more acting, more stand-up, and finally, directing.

Patton’s new special, Tea & Scotch, will be available on YouTube June 9.