Richard Pryor, like the Marx Brothers, is one of those rare forces in comedy whose contributions to the form seem to transcend time and space. His work is just as hilarious and scathing now as it was when he first shocked audiences with frank talk about his own tumultuous life. These days, Pryor is in his mid-sixties and struggling with MS, but he claims that the disease didn't ruin his life, it saved him from what could have been an inevitable end fueled by drugs and alcohol. I hate to admit that part of me wonders how anyone would consider being near paralyzed by disease as a blessing from God, but Pryor's optimism is uplifting to say the very least.