Hey Deion, Bubbelah - maybe you'd better pay a little less attention to those unfairly Draconian salary caps that only allowed you to acquire four of the five remaining 1932 Aston Martins still in road-worthy condition after you'd paid for life's little necessities like hookers and weed, get your medulla oblongata out of your duodenum for a few milliseconds, and make a tackle or two, okay, Babe?

By and large, I think it should be a rule in the teacher employment manual that you can't go attend any event where if you took your classroom on a student field trip, they would summarily be obliterated. That should be rule No. 1.

Michael Moore simultaneously represents everything I detest in a human being and everything I feel obligated to defend in an American. Quite simply, it is that stupid moron's right to be that utterly, completely wrong.

The very definition of the innate hollowness of leading a political life when you end up on your nearest and dearest moments or most personal evenings with donors. That should - that should tell you all you need to know about the ramble that is politics.

A recent conversation: Dubya: Look at the clock, time is racing! Cheney: That's the second hand, George.

A good rule of thumb is if you've made it to 35 and your job still requires you wear a nametag, you've probably made a serious vocational error.

The good thing about Pittsburgh, it's a good place to be raised... it doesn't tolerate assholes. You're either a good guy or you're a bad guy... When I'm in Los Angeles having these incredibly surreal moments where nobody's saying anything and everybody's talking incessantly, I always have that Pittsburgh voice in my head - shut up, smile, get the job, move on.