My sister is also retarded. Across the board. She's a one hundred per cent, honest to goodness, born that way retard. I learned a long time ago that if you're going to tell a story about your retarded sister, you need to mention she's retarded right off the bat or inevitably, at the end of the story, someone will say, What... is she, retarded? And then you have to go, Uh... yeah, she is. Followed by a lengthy, awkward silence.

I love my hunting dog. I loved my hunting dog - I'm not very good at hunting.

When one door closes another door opens. Usually a refrigerator.

I think it's creepy if a guy says, I would never hit a girl. Cause that should go without saying. That's like if you ever heard a guy go, I would never crap in a hot tub.

One of my favorite sketches, and a popular comedy formula, is to put someone with a mental handicap in some kind of unlikely situation. For example: The retarded gynecologist, the retarded Jesus, the retarded Osama Bin Laden. It works. It's funny. Inappropriate? I dunno. I feel like I'm a pretty good judge of what crosses the line of good taste being that I am retarded. Socially perhaps, but severly retarded.

I could never be a lesbian because I have a really good sense of humor.

I jog, actually; I go at night. A lot of women, they don't like to go jogging alone at night. They're afraid they might get accosted. I go naked. That way, if there are any perverts around, they think I'm already being chased.