I remember the horror story that I told myself over and over again. I'm totally alone in my body. I'm totally alone in my head and nobody will ever see through my eyes. I'm just completely alone.

She, uh, came out of the closet recently, my niece. Um... She announced to the family that she's a lesbian and... She's seven, did I mention that? And, uh, I don't even know if she knows what a lesbian is, but I support her completely. And, uh... I'll tell you what's heartbreaking. My sister punished her for it. Can you believe that? No pussy for a week. Which to us may not sound like... But when you're seven, you know, a week is a long time.

Your inability to see yourself clearly is what's keeping you alive.

I don't think there is a woman in her 40s who doesn't, kind of, examine herself in the mirror.

I tend to be more arrogant on stage. Far more ignorant. I sometimes say what I think and sometimes say the opposite of what I think and the lines get blurred, but I can only hope that some kind of absolute power transcends.

I don't like people whose job it isn't to be funny, to tell me what is and isn't funny.

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