Every weekend, I would get the drunk driving lecture. Of course, Dad drank and drove all the time. I guess it wasn't a lecture; it was helpful tips from the master.

My mom shot and killed her last husband. Yeah, my dad used to say "Hey, dodged that bullet. Ha ha."

Everybody's a racist. It's the one human trait that makes us all exactly the same. Deep down, we only like people who are exactly like us. And it doesn't matter. White. Black. Red. Yellow. Purple, uh oh, the purple people, are the worst. Man. All prejudiced and birth marky. But, we've got to learn to get past our differences. I learned that at the museum of tolerance. After my dad beat the crap out of a guy over a parking spot.

I gave my father a heart attack. It was a practical joke. Come on, you push a guy's face in a cake he's got to clean it off. You hit a guy with a water balloon, he's got to dry off. Guy's in the hospital, you get his testicles shaved, he scratches and bleeds for a week... it's funny... you're not supposed to have a heart attack, it kills the joke.

We are brought into this world cold, weak, and helpless. Then it gets worse.

At the end of the Peterson trial, my daughter turns to me and she goes, 'Daddy, are you going to kill Mommy?' 'Oh, honey - that's up to mommy, isn't it?

My dad don't like lies. He says it hurts people in the long race. He prefers the truth. That hurts them instantly.