There's this false notion that this is a regional phenomenon, when in fact every state in the union has hardcore rednecks. No exceptions.

I think it's always good for the author to stay a good cattle prod's distance from the actual moviemaking.

Actually it was the mark of the stupid, which is what you get for sitting under a tree during a thunderstorm.

If you write satire, the guilty pleasure these days is that there's just so much material about. On the other hand, if you have a family it can be depressing.

Nobody with an IQ higher than emergency-room temperature could ever believe that 'death panels' would be appointed to nudge the elderly toward euthanasia. Yet for idle entertainment, it's hard to beat Sarah Palin's ignorant nattering on the subject.

The Florida in my novels is not as seedy as the real Florida. It's hard to stay ahead of the curve. Every time I write a scene that I think is the sickest thing I have ever dreamed up, it is surpassed by something that happens in real life.

Disney world is an armpit compared to Montana.