Anyone who's ever had the misfortune of seeing me interact with house pets knows I have a wickedly strong paternal instinct bordering on the maternal.

The idea that the reader is important enough to me that I'd tailor my words to either please or offend them always seems amusingly alien to me.

"Liberating" is a gay word, so let's phrase it this way: I know everything about me and still manage to be good friends with myself, so nothing anyone says that's truthful about me ever bothers me.

I'm developing a mild rash at the idea of "plugging" anything, because it's not how I roll.

If anything, I've probably tended more toward humor in my writing and veered more toward pleasure in my personal life.

You could paper the globe with evidence that there are demonstrable cognitive and physical disparities between what are crudely called human "races." But you could fit all the evidence of innate equality on your pinkie fingernail with room to spare.

My hatred is diamond-hard.