I heart abortion. Where's the shirt for that, urban outfitters?! And it won't be a normal heart. It'll be a dead infant heart. Y'know what the back will say? Problem Solved.

Every year on my birthday I get a small dash on my inner thigh where my balls currently hang. You can't tell me that's not going to be a beautiful work of art when it's finished. My grandkids are playing with my balls, they can't figure it out. They're like, 'What are these things?' I'm like, 'It's your future, read the chart.' They don't stop growing; they're like earlobes. That joke was inspired by a door that wasn't locked when I was 11.

I actually got a part in 'The Love Guru', that Mike Myers film. I heard it's awful. I got a Razzie award for it, which I'm quite proud of, but I still haven't seen it. I have no plans to branch out.

Something horrible happens and I try to make it funny. It's really a tortured life. You go to a salsa bar, at your local burrito stand, and you know, you think "how can you make a joke about this?"

It's not that hard to climb a pole. All you need are powerful thighs and an empty soul.

Being a white boxer is like being a republican. No matter how hard you work, you'll always lose because of the Mexicans.

That Asian guy is really good at kicking. Shocking. Someone is pressing 'A' really fast somewhere.