There's a reason the Third World came in third.

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.

I don't think fatherhood's changed me so much as it's conjured protective instincts I've had all along.

San Francisco, America's B-movie imitation of Paris. San Francisco, the city that ruined punk rock. San Francisco, the most intolerant place in the country.

I've noticed that if you spend ten years without shooting dope, people consider you an ex-junkie, but one never is considered an 'ex-woman-beater.'

I definitely don't know why men are turned-on by lesbianism.

I've realized there are far more efficient and devastating methods of disturbing people than merely sloshing around in the pigpen with obvious, profane, scatological, flat-brained, grade-school offensiveness.