I love my family. I came home the other days. My brother's passed-out on the couch, holding an empty bottle of sleeping pills. So I called the paramedics, and they pumped his stomach, and I think he's learned his lesson: you know, never to take my last two sleeping pills.
I saw a psychologist once because I thought I had depression. It cost me $100. When I left, I realised that there's nothing he could have said that would cheer me up as much as if I found a $100 bill on my way home.
My parents had very strict rules for me. Rules like, I couldn't be home until a certain hour.
I go to pick up a girl in a bar. I say will you go home with me? She says I don't know, do you have cable? I say no, but the rope should work just fine.
My sister married a German. He complained he couldn't get a good bagel back home. I said: 'Well, whose fault is that?'
I was walking home one night and a guy hammering on a roof called me a paranoid little weirdo. In morse code.
The subconscious is like having a laboratory assistant who pretends to love you and help you, but after you go home to go to sleep it goes back into the lab and starts fumbling with the data and destroying it. It's a very tricky thing. People think our minds are us, but that's not true at all. The mind is not us.
