The Los Angeles Times reported that sixty-three percent of American families are now considered dysfunctional. Good. 'Cause that means when Armageddon really happens, thirty-seven percent of this population is going to lose their minds. Oh my God, the world is over! Us sixty-three percent? We're going to go, Hey... there's no one watching the Lexus dealership! We're going to the Apocalypse with leather and a CD changer! You guys have been great. Thank you.

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.

So what if your custom car shop tanks and you've gotta take a crappy job at an auto parts store, dealing with ignorant, pushy people. I'm okay with that, 'cause I'm an ignorant, pushy people person.

My father never missed a drink in his life. Or a joint. Or a party. Or a chance to get laid. He also never missed a day of work, or a house payment, or a car payment. I never went hungry, although he did a couple of times so I wouldn't.

I lost 28 pounds in my divorce... because that's what a soul weighs.

Screwed-up people settle fights through violence. Screwed-up people start wars that could kill millions. Normal people settle fights through cookies, cakes, and pies. Normal people are fat.

My mom was a manic depressive schizophrenic who, after a year in prison, went home and shot herself. My sister, Kirsten, an amazing poet, who was raised by this woman, and was dating a guy who broke up with her for the fourth time in three weeks. And one day, she came to his house, got a gun, and blew her brains out all over his headboard. I just went through a divorce, five years in court and cost me $2 million dollars. If anyone, by law, should be forced to take antidepressants it's me... But instead, I choose to be an antidepressant. And you can take me with alcohol.