You know what I hate? Indian givers... no, I take that back.

I'd be in the backyard minding my own business. The other kids would call me names, like meatball head or neo-Calvinist. I'd run after them, but lucky for them the chain would snap my neck back.

When I wake up in the morning, I just can't get started until I've had that first, piping hot pot of coffee. Oh, I've tried other enemas.

Writer's block is a myth. I never see the gardeners suffering from gardening block.

When I was a kid my parents used to tell me, "Emo, don't go near the cellar door!" One day when they were away, I went up to the cellar door. And I pushed it and walked through and saw strange, wonderful things, things I had never seen before, like... trees. Grass. Flowers. The sun... that was nice... the sun.

Because we allow handguns. When you know someone in the crowd might be packing a rod, it can't help but rush your timing.

The Scots are a very tough people. They have drive-by headbuttings. In Glasgow a sweatband is considered a silencer.