I hunt feral hogs. I try not to shoot creatures. That doesn't do anything for me. But big, nasty, smelly, bristly things with tusks that destroy everything that they touch. Yeah, I'll shoot them.

Colin Montgomerie is a few French fries short of a Happy Meal.

Never has my flabber been so completely gasted.

Watching Phil Mickelson play golf is like watching a drunk chasing a balloon near the edge of a cliff.

Everybody knows pretty much everything about me. I emptied all the skeletons out of my closet a long time ago.

Playing Augusta is like playing a Salvador Dali landscape. I expected a clock to fall out of the trees and hit me in the face.

If god wanted people to believe in him, why'd he invent logic then?