I'm going to be cremated from the neck down. And at my funeral, when people are talking about me, they have to hold my head. And then at the end, they have to kick me into the audience and the audience has to keep me up for at least three hits or you have to start the whole service over. No cradling it - I want legit sets.

Here’s what I tell people now when they come to my shows: “First of all, thank you for stimulating the economy, or at least my economic package.”

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?"

I apologize if there's a Parkinson's painter in the audience. I assume you do your best work in the morning. Probably gets abstract by noon.

Don't you love it when people in school are like, “I'm a bad test taker”? You mean, you're stupid. Oh, you struggle with that part where we find out what you know? Oh. No, no, I can totally relate. See, because I'm a brilliant painter, minus my God-awful brushstrokes. Oh, how the masterpiece is crystal up here, but once paint hits canvas, I develop Parkinson's.

This is what I say to the most conservative person that's so terrified of gay marriage becoming legal. Just because the state says it's legal, it's not like God's going to let them into Heaven. So you can still sleep sound every night knowing that goal line defense is up at the pearly gates.

I don't know what's more embarrassing in this country, that Michael Phelps fell from the graces for smoking marijuana or that you looked up to a swimmer in the first place?