There is still the outside world to contend with. A world of backfiring cars, and their human equivalents.

I'm not a reporter but the 'New Yorker' treats everyone like a reporter.

I've never made up events, but I've always been a big exaggerator. It's written on my humorist license that I'm allowed to do that.

I like nonfiction books about people with wretched lives.

If you read someone else's diary, you get what you deserve.

A lot of people don't know what they want, you know, or they're just kind of vague about it.

The only bright spot in the entire evening was the presence of Kevin "Tubby" Matchwell, the eleven-year-old porker who tackled the role of Santa with a beguiling authenticity. The false beard tended to muffle his speech, but they could hear his chafing thighs all the way to the North Pole.