My 13-year-old daughter leaves the house at 7:15 every morning and takes a smelly city bus to school way uptown. It's like 8 degrees out, and it's dark and she's got this morning face and I send her out there to take a bus. Meanwhile, my driver is sitting in a toasty Mercedes that's going to take me to work once both kids are gone. I could send her in the Mercedes and then have it come back to get me, but I can't have my kid doing that. I can't do that to her. Me? I earned that f—ing Mercedes. You better f—ing believe it.

Expensive quality work doesn't cost more - it pays.

Look at all the minorities around here! I'm the only majority.

I've met a lot of people who've lost their jobs and they still have a sense of humor.

You have to do a show as honestly as you can. But you also can't afford skepticism, because it's preparing for failure, which is useless.

[about being a father] I don't really remember what it was like before. Whatever I had going on, it was bullshit. It wasn't important. It's kind of a nice thing about being a dad. My identity is really about them now, and what I can do for them, so it sort of takes the pressure off of your own life. What am I going to do, who am I? Who cares, you've got to get your kids to school. So I like it that way.

I love being married. It's great. But I hate arguing. I hate fighting. You know what I do now? When we get in an argument, I just take her side against me. It's just easier; it goes quicker. She's like, "What's wrong with you?" And I'm like, "I know! Damn it! Argh!"