I'm not a vagrant... I'm a hobo. Big difference.

I have a kind of old-fashioned, artisan approach.

This was like July 13th, 1943, the pivotal day of the Battle of the Kursk. We were like Alexander Vasilevsky, the Soviet general. If we attacked now, this minute, we had to keep on and on attacking until the enemy was run off his feet and the war was won. If we bogged down or paused for breath even for a second, we would be overrun again.

I'm not really into gourmet food; I'm the kind of guy who just stops by a place that looks good rather than heading for the restaurant of the moment.

I have to warn you. I promised my mother, a long time ago. She said I had to give folks a chance to walk away.

You see something scary, you should stand up and step toward it, not away from it. Instinctively, reflexively, in a raging fury.

I was fired from my television job, simple as that. Well, downsized, really, a classic 1990s situation.