Love: the sickest of Irony’s sick jokes. The place where logic and order go to die.
If you think anyone is sane you just don’t know enough about them.
I’ve seen more intelligence in the crotch lice of harem whores.
Canada is a myth people made up to entertain children, like the Tooth Fairy. There’s no such place.
Christmas crept into Pine Cove like a creeping Christmas thing: dragging garland, ribbon, and sleigh bells, oozing eggnog, reeking of pine, and threatening festive doom like a cold sore under the mistletoe.
Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, you can’t have a baby brother, because that would mean that Daddy had sex, and that’s never going to happen again.
By Aladdin’s lamplit scrotum, man! Everything is a story. What is there but stories? Stories are the only truth.
Mr. Asher, you can resist who you are for only so long. Finally, you just decide to go with fate.
… but to remain historically accurate, I would have had to leave out an important question that I felt needed to be addressed, which is, ‘What if Jesus had known kung fu?
And I was all, “Don’t be gross, you crustacious fuck. You pull that thing out and I’ll pepper-spray you until you fry.” (You have to be stern with weenie waggers–I’ve been exposed to on the bus over seventeen times, so I know.)
Abby Von Normal – And I’m like, “Don’t change the subject, Kung Pao, what I want to know is if you’re ready to spend some up-close and personal time with ninety pounds of barbarian woman-flesh! Sorry, I don’t know how much that is in kilos.
Is she special? (asks the gay waiter)” I thinks she’s going to break my heart” On arrival of the girl” The flannel is fine honey,but I have’nt seen anyone that over accesorized since batman!
All killer whales are named Kevin. You knew that, right?
Stephenie Meyer: Her vampires are sparkly, which I think we can all agree is wrong.
Which isn’t, like, as bad as it sounds, because the general public kind of sucks ass.
Blessed are the meek, for to them we shall say “attaboy”.
…and thus he found his single source of joy in the society of other people: frightening the girls with his penis.
In business, as in politics, the public is ever so tolerant of those who slime.
The prospect of change is a many-fanged beast, my dear.
Nobody’s perfect. Well, there was this one guy, but we killed him….
The Painting is not shit,’ said Lucien.’I know,’ said Henri. ‘That was just part of the subterfuge. I am of royal lineage; subterfuge is one of the many talents we carry in our blood, along with guile and hemophilia.
I like a girl with a substantial bottom,’ said Renoir, drawing in the air the size bottom he preferred.
I tried cutting myself to express my heartbreak over Tommy (Lord Flood) rejecting me, but OMFG it hurts like flaming fuck.
What love is not torment when a man knows not how to love himself? Talk not of drowning, but attaining your heart’s desire by action: Put money in thy purse.
So I am death” Charlie said then turned to his daughter while buttering his toast.”This is death toast sweety.
…as if someone had thrown a hand grenade into the middle of a teddy bear orgy and the only survivors had had their fur blown off.
I’m feeling full of tiny princes, bustling to get out into the world and start plotting against one another.
Why write a song when no one can play the notes or understand the lyrics?
Andrew Lloyd Webber’s version of the Kool-Aid jingle is at once chilling and evocative. Donny Osmond is brilliant as James Jones.
Sweet Pocket, you mustn’t ask about my life before I came here. What I am now, I have always been, and everything I am is here with you.” “Sweet Thalia,” said I. “That is a fiery flagon of dragon toss.
You cannot believe what you do not believe, Rumi siad. I am an Untouchable because my karma dictates it.
There’s a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality–there’s mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin.
But Charlie could imagine, because he was a Beta Male, and imagination was his curse….
Blessed with the Beta Male imagination, he spent much of his life squinting into the future so he might spot ways in which the world was conspiring to kill him…
We were seekers. You are that which is sought, Joshua. You are the source. The end is divinity, in the beginning is the word. You are the word.
The three jewels of Tao: compassion, moderation, and humility. Balthasar said compassion leads to courage, moderation leads to generosity, and humility leads to leadership.
So I’m all, “Owned! Bee-yatch! Dog fucking owned you!” Doing a minor booty dance of ownage, perhaps, in retrospect, a bit prematurely. (I believe hip-hop to be the apprpriate language for taunting, at least until I learn French.)
Pondering is a little like considering and a little like thinking, but looser. To ponder, one must let the facts roll around the rim of the mind’s roulette wheel, coming to settle in whichever slot they feed pulled to.
Apologies, one loses perspective after spending a week in a brothel.
She doesn’t understand that a writer is a special creature–that I’m different from everyone else. I’m not saying I’m superior to other people, just more sensitive, I guess.
She can be a whirlwind of tits and terror when she puts her mind to a purpose, can’t she, sir?
Scratch a cynic and you will find a disappointed romantic.
It’s kinda hard to get yourself into a good three-toweler when you got the dick of death.
…turning your ankle hurts like hell, even if you’re a superhero.
A question asked in earnest, deserves an earnest answer.
Only cops and vampires have to have an invitation to enter.
If there was anything I learned from John the Baptist, it was that the sooner you confess a mistake, the quicker you can get on to making new and better mistakes.
It was the sound of a thousand hungry children crying, ten thousand widows tearing their hair over their husband’s graves, a chorus of angels singing the last dirge on the day of God’s death.
My children are monsters, Kiro thought. And I am responsible. Perhaps if I had read them the haikus of Basho when they were little instead of that American manifesto of high-pressure sales, Green Eggs and Ham…
You’re trying to be tricky. What’s morality?””It’s the difference between what’s right and what you can rationalize.””Must be a human thing.””Exactly.
But she’s a redhead, so she’s probably evil, even at her tender age.””I thought you liked redheads.””I do. What’s your point?
Author’s WarningIf you’re buying this book as a gift for your grandma or a kid, you should be aware that it contains cusswords as well as tasteful depictions of cannibalism and people in their forties having sex. Don’t blame me. I told you.
It’s wildly irritating to have invented something as revolutionary as sarcasm, only to have it abused by amateurs.
That’s the difference between irony and sarcasm. Irony can be spontaneous, while sarcasm requires volition. You have to create sarcasm.
Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It’s the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.
Diogenes carried a bowl with him for years, but one day saw a man drinking from his cupped palm and declared, ‘I have been a fool, burdened all these years by the weight of a bowl when a perfectly good vessel lay at the end of my wrist.
The Angel Gabriel disappeared once for sixty years and they found him on earth hiding in the body of a man named Miles Davis.
Rivera rubbed his temples. “Satan told you to do it?” he said wearily.”No.””Elvis?””I told you, it’s supernatural.
An original thought would crack your feeble skull like a thunderbolt, you craven vulture.
She hugged me and I could feel the heat rise in my face, either from shame or love, like there was a difference.
I gave you all!” screeched Lear, waving a palsied claw at Regan.”And you took your bloody time giving it, too, you senile old fuck,” said Regan.
That was supposed to be the whole purpose of the Internet, you know. To share scientific information.””Not a Viagra- and porn-delivery system?
Lucien, women are wondrous, mysterious, and magical creatures, who should be treated not only with respect but with reverence, perhaps even awe. Now go sweep the steps.
She was an alien, really – a sort of eating, pooping, tantrum machine – and he didn’t understand anything about her species.
On the radio, turned low, Reba sang of hard times with the full authority of a cross-eyed redheaded millionaire.
You know what? You know what? You know what?’ I was waving my finger under her nose. ‘You scratched the Son of God. That’s your ass, that’s what.
My fans have great senses of humor and eat too much chocolate.
As much as I encourage communication with my readers, I don’t want reviews from them, simply because I don’t need to be hamstrung in the middle of working on something.
When I teach seminars, I tell people, ‘Your stuff has to look like something that’s out there, because otherwise nobody will take a chance on you.’