At first, writing for The New Yorker was very scary to me. I couldn't imagine anything that I would write in that typeface.

In the Netherlands now, I imagine it's legal to marry your own children. Get them pregnant, and you can abort your unborn grandbabies in a free clinic that used to be a church.

Do I exaggerate? Boy, do I, and I'd do it more if I could get away with it.

I've always been very upfront about the way I write, and I've always used the tools humorists use, such as exaggeration.

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

The drama bug strikes hardest with Jews, homosexuals and plump women who wear their hair in bangs. These are people who, for one reason or another, desperately crave attention

Every gathering has its moment. As an adult, I distract myself by trying to identify it, dreading the inevitable downswing that is sure to follow. The guests will repeat themselves one too many times, or you'll run out of dope or liquor and realize that it was all you ever had in common.