Being a teenager is the worst thirty years of your life. Peer pressure, acne, final exams, seven little tiny hairs on your upper lip. Luckily, the girls never noticed your infantile moustache, 'cos they were hyptonised by the fire engine sized zit on your forehead.

For me, the greatest hurdle to success has always been failure.

Osama Bin Laden is dead? Oh my God, that was so easy! And it only took two trillion dollars, two wars and too many good men.

When you screw up, you got to pay the price. Shoot up a supermarket, you go to jail. Ride a motorcycle without a helmet, permanent brain damage and in California you're getting a ticket. Too chatty on a date with my dad, well, he'll push you in front of a cross town bus. Of course, you know, I'm speaking metaphorically. My dad will push you in front of any bus.

I have a dream. With that one sentence, Martin Luther King touched and empowered an entire nation. You know what else he did? He made everybody else without dreams feel real bad.

When I was seven, I watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest with my mom. When Jack Nicholson was strapped to the table getting electroshock treatment, my mom burst into tears. She said it reminded her of her life, and I was stunned, because I didn't know my mom had been nominated for an Oscar.

Normal people, who grow up with compassion, never amount to anything. They're the ones who end up gluing those little dots on the highway. Or, putting glue on the dots for the guy who glues dots on the highway. Screwed up people, who weren't coddled or raised with compassion, we get stuff done. Sure, we feel a little alone and abandoned, but, we're... very... happy. Why can't you love me, daddy?