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

Most of those who spend their lives as critics secretly wish they'd be considered important enough for someone to bother criticizing them.

I'm the only convict who couldn't get into Australia.

You have to be careful because those feelings and bitterness can take over and consume in a bad way.

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 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.

I was exposed to violence while I was still in the womb - my father punched my mother in the stomach while she was pregnant with me.