As an American, no one expected Donald Trump to ever be a serious candidate for President. I don't think he even expected to be a serious candidate. He wanted the free media he would get.

I don't think I'm a particularly good writer, and I'm not terribly insightful.

Every single day the world seems like it is on the brink of falling apart. But then I look outside my window, and things look about the same as they did a week ago. It's almost a form of cognitive dissonance.

I've dated attractive people and I don't find a correlation between amorous enthusiasm and beauty and public figure status.

I'd much rather go out and have music randomly presented to me by different DJs than stay home and discover it on my own.

If Nirvana had remained a small, underground punk rock band, Kurt Cobain would still be alive. And he'd probably be living in Seattle, getting kind of fat and balding, be relatively happy and producing records for other people.

The truth is that genetics has robbed me of hair. But it's not interesting to blame genetics.