Some comedians change their style, often to their advantage; but I see no reason why I can't continue with the "urbane sophisticate" 'til the day I die.

So I'm at the wailing wall, standing there like a moron, with my harpoon.

My sister just had a baby. We can have company over. She'll be in front of everyone with her um... breast... out feeding it. You know... cereal or whatever.

My classmates would copulate with anything that moved, but I never saw any reason to limit myself.

Don't wear fur! Did you know, a single fur coat takes fifteen trees, just for the protest signs?

I was in a bar the other night, hopping from barstool to barstool, trying to get lucky, but there wasn't any gum under any of them.

Whatever happened to the good ole days, when children worked in factories?