I had a real job at fourteen years old. At seventeen, I was on my own. At twenty, I cut the liver out of a drifter and gave it to my father! 'Cause my dad's a drinker and I love my dad. And for eighty bucks, you can do anything in Mexico!

Hey! D'you guys hear Dr. Atkins died? Slipped on some ice, hit his head, died on life support. The man who invented the all-meat diet... died a vegetable. That's a damn good joke. But that joke's like a Toyota Camry - reliable, not inspiring.

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.

Normal people, want to be accepted. Screwed up people, want to be accepted. It's one of the few things we have in common. My whole life, all I ever wanted was my dad to pat me on the top of the head and go, Who's a good boy ? Who's a good boy? But, instead, all he ever did was wipe peanut butter on the end of my nose and laugh while I tried to lick it off.

Many massacres have happened when people yell "surprise"! Pearl Harbor. The Tet Offensive. My uncle's 50th birthday party. I was there, man! How many more people gotta die?

The only way to tell my Dad something is to write it on a note, and tie it to a brick, and throw it through a window. Of course, now Dad's armed with a brick.

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.