THIS one-hour show already got our top applause in June 2020 not because it was louder (or funnier) than any of the other English-language stand-up specials from early 2020 but because of its top-notch subtlety.
    You see, on the whole I Love Everything does not overtly touch political stuff, except in some parts. Then again, it's actually as if everything here is a prologue towards quick statements of political fact.
    [THE FOLLOWING INCLUDES SPOILERS]
    In a routine, for example, Oswalt's nerdy comedy pulls us towards a commonality where we all get to laugh at the comic generalizations we have about people in their respective age category, including that one about 50-year-olds who listen to 20-year old podcasters "whom nobody wants to fuck." That's still vaguely political, right? Sure, but, suddenly, after he'd established a state of comfort in that space between us, Oswalt drops the serious fact that the vaguely anti-Moslem among us would mostly belong to those in their 60s. Even in the very beginning of this gig he already joked that he's not angry at having turned 50 that year in 2019, and that in fact he can't wait to get to 90 so that he can relax, do crossword puzzles, and live a contented life as a racist.
    This is followed by a routine about his being 50 and consuming healthy brown cereal in a box colored . . . white. You can't suspect that to have a racial context, until he tells us his bowl would be beige, "bargaining beige." And that suspicion of yours would be proven correct, as the routine would end with Oswalt implying that this cereal had been produced in farms run by the ghosts of black slaves or underpaid brown immigrant workers. Then he points to another delicious healthy cereal that has indulged in name-dropping the Bible on its inside novelette, similar to the wont of many companies, and Oswalt just found this worthy of ridicule, if only for its ignorance.
    Here and there are stories, too, about businesses being run by con artists. He tells us that contractors are mostly a con job that just uses subcontractors, subcontractors who―it turns out―can't be contractors because they're made up of talented but crazy men with neo-Nazi tattoos and live in the forest. Then he tells us a story about working as a teenager for a company that gave shitty wedding DJ services and how all the weddings it serviced turned into divorces. Sounds like the title of a political book, doesn't it?
    But here and there are also stories of family love, marriage love, albeit sprinkled with such things as his worry that the note his wife left him on his windshield after their fight might have been from one of those alt-right MAGA assholes who probably got irked by something he said on Twitter and has now found him. His routine about putting daughter (or one's entire family) above self may be quite funny and touching, but in our time it's already quite political, as a matter of fact.
    But, of course, okay, the whole thing actually gets political after 37 minutes, which part of the show we think you ought to see for yourself. Especially as it does the entire thing trying to avoid being political, know what we mean? It does it by trying to be clownish inside it instead of trying to make a clown out of others. Well, okay, a little bit of that other one, too, but . . . and it lasts for 12 minutes.
    He finishes off with a diss on an American diner chain serving high-calorie food to families. Denny's discrimination record aside, that is already a political thing to do in the fastfood-endorsing Trump era, wouldn't you say?
    But what's the point behind all this subtlety, you ask. Well, there are those who don't want to talk about politics anymore and just want to hear about things that they can love. So, there you go. Subtly put the politics somewhere where those who want them can actually still see them, then.
    Here's Garrett Martin of Paste: "On I Love Everything Patton Oswalt seems about as well-adjusted as he’s ever been. He’s always had the ability to take personal anecdotes and observations and turn them into long, increasingly hilarious stories with a larger ring of truth and a tinge of the absurd, and that’s still true on I Love Everything. He also delivers the Trump stand-up routine that should officially end all Trump stand-up routines, and criticizes Louis C.K. and other #MeToo comics in the kind of bit that too few comedians have done. Oswalt’s previous special, Annihilation, was a respectful and darkly hilarious way to deal with the tragedy of his wife’s untimely death, and on I Love Everything Oswalt deals with the lives he’s rebuilt since—both his and his daughter’s. The result is a thoroughly entertaining hour from one of the most consistent comedians of his era."