Actually, the only memory I have of being a Cub Scout was trying to get my hat back. That was all I did. Run back and forth at my bus stop going "Quit it."

I won't do something unless I can get at least two or three good laughs out of it. If I can't, it's not gonna make the team.

Why is McDonalds still counting? How insecure is this company? 40 million, 80 billion million jillion killion tillion... who cares? Is anyone really impressed by that any more? Ooh, 89 billion sold? All right, I'll have one! I'm satisfied! I'd like to tell the CEO of McDonalds, "Look. We all get it, okay? You've sold a lot of hamburgers. Whatever the number is, just put up a sign, 'McDonalds: We're Doing Very Well.' We are tired of hearing about every goddamn one of them."

I have a nice bookshelf in my office, but not my house. I'm crass, but not that crass.

The padded outfits, the bad scripts, the phony-looking sets... he dealt with it all. He had to. He was Superman.

That's why breakups take two or three times- to build up immunity.

I wish I was a phone machine. I wish if I saw somebody on the street I didn't want to talk to I could just go, "Excuse me, I'm not here right now, If you just leave a message, I can walk away."