My oldest brother was stabbed thirty to forty times and strangled to death with his own belt when I was eight years old. Much of my life has been pockmarked with violence. So I had a natural interest in the topic, along with a strong home-field advantage.

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.

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.'

It amazes me that some people who ordinarily can recognize autocratic bullying, tacky sloganeering, and - especially - camp value are unable to spot it in this Hate Scare that grips the Western world.

Anti-racist propaganda is relentless and inescapable, as if the propagandists fear that if they shut up about it for a second, they'd instantly become racists themselves.

Plenty of people have bad divorces, but few of them end up with cancer, imprisonment, and public scorn. In the dark, rolling, treacherous wake of that sunken ship, the last thing I sought was a "relationship" or, heaven forbid, marriage.

Show me pornography which promotes violence against women, and I'll buy it.