Last Friday evening a worn, tired and hungover Patton Oswalt took the stage at Mystic Lake Casino to both the displeasure and enjoyment of the middle-aged, overweight and fairly intoxicated Minnesotan crowd.

The five-foot-three, ego-driven Los Angeles based comedian started the show with “what the fuck is happening?”

He jumped immediately into the results of the recent election, saying “if there is Trump supporters in the room I’m not saying fuck you, you all had legitimate grievances if you voted for Trump, that’s your fucking right, it really is, but just know that you picked a guy that is the very reason that you had the grievances.”

Oswalt knew the controversial topic of the election was prime material, as the president-elect makes for an easy target. Regardless of the opinions of those in the audience, Oswalt was far from shy when expressing his disapproval for the new commander-in-chief. He even went as far as to mention the impending doom of the “thin-skinned narcissist” having control over America’s nuclear weapons and how one of Trump’s main draws among supporters was his entertainment value.

After thoroughly draining the exhausted topic of the election, Oswalt walked over to his legal pad and revealed the yellow of its near-empty pages, his lack of preparation and material for the evening. The audience didn’t seem disappointed as they knew what Oswalt had been through late last year.

After some impromptu bits about the little drummer boy and the impressiveness of drumming little baby jesus to sleep and his recommended PSA for Trump in support of spending the holidays alone with “a bottle of Jim Beam and an open robe” to reduce the Christmas time suicide rate, Oswalt moved to the topic he’d been avoiding.

“I’m delaying the god damn inevitable, so I am six months in change to being a widower,” he said.

This is when the night took a melancholy turn. Every member of the audience, regardless of their political stance, became quiet, showing their support for the struggling, exhausted man who was there to make everyone laugh. Oswalt did not sugarcoat the life of a widower.

“It’s terrible,” he said. “If I hear the words ‘healing journey’ one more time I’m gonna throw a balloon full of piss into every candle store in North America.”

Instead, suggesting that the process to becoming “okay” again should more appropriately be called a “numb slog” justifying “being awake at 4 a.m. having Triscuits for breakfast after a sleepless night.”

Though this heavy topic was obviously difficult for the “Ratatouille” voice actor to talk about, he held himself together. He made comparisons to another famous tragic character, Bruce Wayne, who, after witnessing his parent’s violent murder, “moved abroad, started CrossFit and mastered martial arts” and that he was on the same path “working out like crazy, making incredible progress” all while emphasizing his “scotch and pretzels gut” to the crowd.

It was easy to tell that Oswalt loved talking about his wife, but hated the fact that it had to be past-tense. He moved on to talk about his mistreatment of his body and his journey into the John Varvatos in Macy’s where he asked the “petrified, passive” employees for a pair of “hobbit pants” with a 38 inch waist and 30 inch inseam—an unheard of size pairing in “John Varvatos world” whose clothing was fit for a “strung-out heroin addict who eats one rice cake a year.”

The show was coming to an end and you could see that, though he was exhausted, depressed and sleep-deprived, this Minnesotan casino showroom audience had given him exactly what he needed.