My mother’s sister was killed in a trolley car accident, so I was raised as one of eight with my sister and six male cousins.
And humor has always been a weapon. You want to get even on somebody? You want to attack somebody? Make fun of them.
Banks have a new image. Now you have ‘a friend,’ your friendly banker. If the banks are so friendly, how come they chain down the pens?
Everything my mother made had to cook for 80 hours, and when she made matzoh balls she didn’t know fluffy. Everything sank.
I just never saw my mother in any other room but the kitchen. There were always pots going.
As a parent, I’d – I’d be a better father.
I made it, Ma – Carnegie Hall. And I didn’t have to practice.
I think one of the big things about comedy is the ability for the audience to identify.
I was a high school throw-out.
I won’t eat in a place that has suits of armor.
It’s not easy being a father, but I’ve been allowed a comeback.
Modesty is not one of my virtues.
My mother kept the house clean and we ate good. I didn’t know we were poor until I started giving interviews.
When I get up in the morning, I have to decide what I’m going to have for dinner or I can’t get through the day.
The other day my house caught fire. My lawyer said, “Shouldn’t be a problem. What kind of coverage do you have?” I said, “Fire and theft.” The lawyer frowned. “Uh oh. Wrong kind. Should be fire OR theft.”
Comedy is an amazing calling. Once you get that first laugh, it’s hard to turn away. Then, of course, you’re hooked and you have to learn how to survive in the business.
There’s a charm, there’s a rhythm, there’s a soul to Jewish humor. When I first saw Richard Pryor perform, I told him, ‘You’re doing a Jewish act.’
There’s nobody to believe in anymore, nobody to trust.
You do live longer with bran, but you spend the last fifteen years on the toilet.
I always plan dinner first thing in the morning. That’s the only way I can get through the day, having a specific meal to look forward to at night.