I miss Nixon. Compared to these Nazis we have in the White House now, Richard Nixon was a flaming liberal.
There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment.
If Sunday is the Lord’s day, then Saturday belongs to the Devil. It is the only night of the week when he gives out Free passes to the Late show at the Too Much Fun Club.
If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix.
In some circles, the Mint 400 is a far, far better thing than the Superbowl, the Kentucky Derby, and the lower Oakland roller derby finals all rolled into one. This race attracts a very special breed.
Good news is rare these days, and every glittering ounce of it should be cherished and hoarded and worshipped and fondled like a priceless diamond.
If you can’t make yourself understood by your friends, you’ll be in trouble when your enemies come for you.
A sense of humor is the main measure of sanity.
Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing.
I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
Nixon was a professional politician, and I despised everything he stood for – but if he were running for president this year against the evil Bush-Cheney gang, I would happily vote for him.
The possibility of physical and mental collapse is now very real. No sympathy for the Devil, keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride.
All the blood is drained out of democracy – it dies – when only half the population votes.
Things are no longer what they seem to be. My telephones are haunted, and animals whisper at me from unseen places.
There was an awful suspicion in my mind that I’d finally gone over the hump, and the worst thing about it was that I didn’t feel tragic at all, but only weary, and sort of comfortably detached.
Never fire a warning shot. It is a waste of ammunition.
It was a maddening image and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum.
Some people will tell you that slow is good – but I’m here to tell you that fast is better.
And the whole Bush family, from Texas, should be boiled in poisoned oil.
Stay naked as much as possible, but do not impose your orgiastic will on others. Don’t have sex in the lobby – it’s usually awkward.