One of the greatest pleasures I get from my measly professional career is confusing people. "Wait - he beats women and seems like a Nazi, but he has impeccable grammar and keen reasoning skills and sings country music and can, from time to time, say or do something really funny?" It absolutely doesn't compute for them. I enjoy that immensely.

You truly need to witness me goo-gooing and coo-cooing and making up goofy little songs to glean a full appreciation of how nauseating I can be. This is another instance where things seemingly don't add up - how can this vile, hateful, violent, misogynist, racist, loathsome, repugnant, worthless, reprehensible subhuman be so insanely tender and kind to little doggies and kitty-cats?

I certainly didn't emerge from prison regretting anything I ever wrote, nor did I feel remorse for my crime in the least.

The average human's fundamental project is to find someone else to blame for their problems.

I can't tell you how many times people - through the anonymity and safety of the Internet, of course - have told me 'You beat women' as if it was an ongoing, daily thing. The only person ever brave enough to say it to my face quickly surrendered his courage when I said, 'Would you like to step outside and see if I can beat men, too?'

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

I believe "human sexuality" is one of the most ridiculous aspects of being a human, and here I was, facing publications whose prevailing editorial slant sought to portray our basic rutting instincts as something "ennobling" and "empowering," to depict women who were fundamentally whores and predominantly unstable as "sex workers" and "goddesses."