Nothing anybody's said or written about me ever bothers me, except when it does.

When lip service to some mysterious deity permits bestiality on Wednesday and absolution on Sunday, cash me out.

For years I've nursed a secret desire to spend the Fourth of July in a double hammock with a swingin' redheaded broad. But I could never find me a double hammock

I would like to be remembered as a man who had a wonderful time living life, a man who had good friends, fine family - and I don't think I could ask for anything more than that, actually.

Never yawn in front of a lady.

I want to be buried with a Zippo, a roll of dimes & a bottle of Jack!

And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain.