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

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.

My hatred is diamond-hard.

I don't think it's entirely paranoid to suspect that one day, you won't be able to so much as question the primary tenets of anti-racism without going to jail.

In my long, long years toiling around the publishing industry, I've found that women simply don't stick to the writing with the same fervor that men do.

"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.

As I view it, spending over two years in a cage is far worse than having your face pounded and dealing with a black eye for a week or two.