My wife she's fat. Why, if she lost a few pounds, she'd be perfectly round.

For two hours, some guy followed me around with a pooper scooper.

When I was forty, I was getting divorced, living in a low-class, dirty hotel in New York. My mother was dying of cancer. I owed $20,000. That was about the lowest. I came back to show business, and I couldn't get a job. I was turned down by every small-time agent in New York.

My golf game is getting real good. Last week, I got through the windmill.

I asked my wife, 'Is there somebody else?' She said, 'There MUST be.'

My parents didn't like me. For bathtub toys they gave me a blender and a transistor radio.

Last week I told my psychiatrist, 'I keep thinking about suicide', and he told me from now I have to pay in advance.