So it seems that because of every syndrome and disorder we've invented in the past twenty years, the Los Angeles Times reported that 63% of American families are now considered dysfunctional. My God! That means we're the majority. We're normal! It's the people who have the mommy, the daddy, the brother, the sister, the little white picket fence - those people are the freaks, man!

In 1998, in Laramie, Wyoming, two guys beat up Matthew Shepard and left him on the side of the road hanging on the fence to die. They killed him, because Matthew Shepard was gay. They killed him, because Matthew Shepard was gay? They killed him.

There's a one in six billion chance you'll find your soul mate. And that's if they're not dead. At best they're probably living in some Siberian ice cave eating bugs and weaving beads into their back hair. But they're out there. My dad believed that to find your perfect soul mate, first, you had to look through a bunch of other guys' soul mates.

In a crisis, my family puts aside all its petty differences and hatreds... Because a crisis, is a perfect opportunity to create *new* petty differences and hatreds! My dad's from that era when you lived to 50, your heart exploded and that was that. You know when you cook bacon and you pour the grease into the can? My dad's the can!

My random acts of violence weren't random. They were premeditated.

Being a parent is a life sentence. From the day that kid is born until the day you die and then some. Mom, there is nothing to forgive. You gave me life. And, hey, you're not crazy anymore. Everybody thinks I am. Real funny, mom.

I swore I would never get involved in my dad's life. But then he started blowing it. So I had to get involved, you know, but he's my dad, I can't send him to his room or ground him or go to his first grade play and scream, "Look at the fairy!" I was a wood nymph.