Of course, here's the weird part. After I fought my dad, all of a sudden we're buddies now. Like he's my friend now, we start hanging out. But we're still the same people. So we'd go out on Sunday, you know, and just be hanging out, then he'd, like, pick a guy, and we'd just go beat the crap out of that guy as a team. Memories, huh?

God bless America. But God, please help Canada.

By the way, six A.M.? Not a real great time for me; you know, I'm a comic. I get off work at two. Six A.M., I'm a little grumpy. Six A.M., I'm a little P.O.ed. Six A.M., I'm like a vampire with a paper route.

In a normal family, surprise means presents, cake and a party. My family, surprise means homelessness, abandonment and destruction of private property. Sometimes we have cake. We're not losers.

And my daughter's too smart. She gets it watching TV. She gets it. She's five. She gets it. I... I have a smart kid; I don't want a smart kid. I'm gonna start feedin' her lead paint chips just to bring her down.

Normal people terrify me, because they haven't had enough problems in their life to know how to handle problems when they come up. Something little happens and they snap. But being from a dysfunctional family means nothing rattles me. Hey once you've driven a drunken father to moms' parole hearing, what else is there?

I am a patriot, and I protest speed limits by exceeding them.