It feels weird in our ear holes to hear people worshipping a guy named Ron. We know Rons in our life.

If you decide to do comedy that involves risk, risk means risk, and you can't complain of flesh wounds if you sit down at the table to play.

When I was 9 or 10 years old, my dad took me over to a neighboring farm to help get stuff for the meal. The farmer, Vic, told me to look at all the turkeys and pick one out. I saw a cute one with a silly walk and cried, 'Him!' Before my pointing finger had even dropped to my side, Vic had grabbed the turkey by the neck and slit [the animal's] throat. Blood and feathers went flying. I had sentenced that turkey to death! Up until then, I didn't know where meat came from—and I've been a vegetarian ever since.

When you’re a bed wetter there’s only one group of people you can feel better than, bed shitters, and unfortunately they’re hard to come by.

Guess what, Martin Luther King? I had a dream, too.

Letting your freak flag fly is something, no matter who you are, that takes great bravery, straight up.

Smells definitely do have a crazy impact on me.