I got mugged about six months ago. The oddest thing about the entire situation, though, was that I wasn't afraid, which is strange because basically I experience my life through two primary emotions: fear and suppressed fear.

It's been years since any hillbilly has reported getting sodomized by an alien. Did they break up and not tell us?

I don't like to generalize, but if you see a guy with his shirt tucked into his shorts, he's probably killed three or four children.

Common sense dictates the term hot fudge sundae has a totally different meaning in prison.

The Republican Party is the party of Eddie Haskell and the principal from Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

If anything, I believe that when I die, I will have to stand in front of all the children who went to bed hungry while I was on earth and read aloud a list of my eBay purchases. I shudder to think of it. Explaining to a poor child with a swollen belly why I didn't give his village fifty cents a week but spent twenty-seven dollars in a bidding war for a Mars Attacks coffee cup.

My life is just like Breaking Bad except instead of a chemistry teacher I'm just a guy and instead of making meth I don't do much.