Wayne Brady, I don’t understand why people keep joking that you’re not black. Wayne Brady, you are BLACK. After all, I only remember you for all the years you played an uppity slave on ‘Who’s Line is it Anyway?’.

You don't know anything about pain until you've seen your own baby drowned in a tub... and you definitely don't know anything about how to wash a baby.

Father's Day makes me wish I could talk to my Dad just one more time, instead of all the time.

I think a theater show is a pure version of me doing my material. The theater crowd is a bit more polite, there really aren't hecklers, and there are a lot of people there to see me, and they're excited about the jokes and hanging out with me for a show.

You'll get my assault weapon when you pry it out of my curious six-year-old's cold dead hands.

Sure, retarded jokes write themselves. But the spelling is always way off.

My dad was a complicated man. He was a huge racist, my dad, but he still tried to be a good father, you know? Like, he would tell me that Santa Claus was black - that way, when I found out he didn't exist, it wouldn't be that big a let down.