Valentines Day is a day we celebrate real love. A love so strong that two hearts become one. Yeah, when you're happy, she's happy. And when you're angry, she's angry. And when you start wallowing in self-pity because your hotrod shop tanks and everybody's against you so you start drinking. And then she moves out and goes and lives with her parents, pfft. Or was that the day after Valentines Day? Doesn't matter. I'll go get another one just like her.

Abortion is an atrocity. Those who practice or praise it are either damn idiots, misguided fools, or treacherous devils.

Blood doesn't make you family. Hell, an only child can bleed. It's the sharing of pain that makes you family. 'Cause, you can't really love a brother or sister until you know that they're as scarred and broken as you are. And, hey, if you grow up with a father like mine and you aren't at least a little scarred and broken, well then, that's not your father. You were spawned by an entirely different guy.

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.

Losing builds character. So, if you're the loser in your family, don't worry. 'Cos twenty years form now, that perfect can do no wrong brother of yours is going to show up at your house, bald, fat, divorced, with six kids who all hate him and he's going to ask you for money. And because of your character, you're going to look him right in the eyes and you're going to say, You know what, I'll give you some money. If you mow my lawn and detail my car. Oh yeah, then you can shampoo the tail. Loser.

You don't get a rebate at the end of your life for living with an idiot.

I'm the sort of loser who succeeds really well and then drops a turd in the punch bowl.