Jon Voight's scrotum, megalomaniac chefs, and the epic flash-frying of a heckler—it all folds comfortably into Patton Oswalt's geeky warmth on his second stand-up album, Werewolves And Lollipops. As on his 2004 debut, Feelin' Kinda Patton, the bits swoop in for multiple kills, obsessing over absurd realities and morbid parallels. And again, this yields enough phrase-nuggets to rival Oswalt's collection of Star Wars memorabilia—"goof juice," "courtesy fat," "broods of failure." If Oswalt has a shtick, it's exhausting the crowd, propping it up, and wearing it out again, all without trying its patience. Playing Feelin' and Werewolves back to back has the same effect, in spite of the albums' similarities. From Oswalt, "more of the same" is never exactly that.