I've never had a meth habit, I don't walk around naked, and unless I'm actively provoked, I'm generally polite and well-spoken.

There were people whom I considered friends or loved ones who either abandoned me or betrayed me in ways I'd never have suspected. But there were others who had been barely acquaintances of mine whose loyalty and efforts on my behalf made me realize that not everyone was as inherently rotten as I'd previously believed. So it caused a violent split in my view of humanity - people turned out to be far worse and far better than I'd ever dreamed possible.

I think that 99% of the snipers who take shots at me from electronic foxholes also realize they could never withstand the sort of public disparagement, nor the revelation of so many personal details, that I've endured for years and still remain as impenitent, obnoxious, and ready to argue all critics into the dirt as I am. I think this also jacks up their hatred level, because they realize they'd never be so strong-willed.

It's very odd to observe someone else taking your identity into their own hands and getting it all wrong. I don't think most people will ever get to experience how truly weird it is.

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 prefer for a woman's most private of areas to have as much hair as Carlos Santana's entire band, head to toe, circa 1972.

If I’d been talking about black trash, I might be lynched. If I was talking about white trash, I’d merely be another torchbearer in an ongoing national lynching.