Every writer knows that unless you were born gifted with either supreme confidence or outsize ego, handing in your work holds, in some cases, admitted terror. If that's too strong, at least fairly high anxiety.

I have a disturbing problem with losing things. My vulnerability to loss-distress could properly be labeled not only inordinate, but neurotic.

My dream was maybe someday, one night I can be a guest on a talk show, and then I will have achieved everything I want.

Comedians are sometimes resentful of their writers. Probably because it's hard for giant egos to admit you need anyone but yourself to be what you are.

Censorship feeds the dirty mind more than the four-letter word itself.

I feel like I've been watching Irwin Corey forever. I saw him in the 1950s, and I thought he was old then.

As long as people will accept crap, it will be financially profitable to dispense it.