Only a fool would leave the enjoyment of rainbows to the opticians. Or give the science of optics the last word on the matter.

Critics are like ticks on a dog or tits on a motor: ornamental but dysfunctional.

In the world of words, one of my best-loved tribes is the diatribe.

Jack Kerouac, like a sick refrigerator, worked too hard at keeping cool and died on his mama's lap from alcohol and infantilism.

A man's duty? To be ready -- with rifle or rood -- to defend his home when the showdown comes.

Nobody seems more obsessed by diet than our antimaterialist, otherworldly, New Age, spiritual types. But if the material world is merely illusion, an honest guru should as content with Budweiser and bratwurst as with raw carrot juice, tofu, and seaweed slime.

Appearance versus reality? Appearance is reality, God damn it!