When you’re as ugly as I am, you need all the beauty sleep you can get. I’ll be in the restroom resting if you need me. Knock three times so I know it’s you and not a hooker dressed like a cop.
An octopus has eight legs. You know what else has eight legs? My bed last night. Oh, I didn’t have a foursome, but I did sleep with six prosthetic legs (I have a bad back).
When I see a poor person I think of me, and then I think, maybe I should pay my clones for all the work they do for me. Then I think, nah, they’re only slaves. Through my clones, I am a slave to myself.
I want to live for a very, very long time, but it’s important that I take care of my body. When I am 851 years old, I don’t want to look it. No, I want to look 158.
If artists often get famous posthumously, then there is only one thing for me to do—fake my own death. Or I could just wait for science to give me a clone, and kill him instead. He’ll get my credit, and I’ll get his money.
If I own a business, I work for myself. And if I have no revenue, I work for free. That’s not slavery. That’ll be the case when I employ 1,000,000,000 clones of myself. I won’t pay them, but they are me, so it’s not slavery.
I’m going to name my firstborn son 0123456789, because I want him to learn to count before he learns the alphabet. And my second son I’ll call 01, because I want him to get into computers at a young age.
If you expect others to think for you, then you expect others to live your life for you. And I’m sorry, but the only person I’ll let live my life for me is my clone. He thinks like me, so I’m OK with him thinking for me.
Every time the wind blows I think of her. I wonder if I could generate electricity off my yearning. Maybe a mind wind farm of some kind. Hopefully I could provide enough power for all the lonely people in my bathtub to stay warm.
I wouldn’t mind politicians lying to me, stealing from me, or senselessly making life difficult if they didn’t try to claim they were looking out for my best interest. How refreshing it’d be to see a politician honest enough to admit he’s dis...
Whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican, I think everybody can agree that politicians are crooks. But I don’t think politicians are thieves, because you can’t steal what you’ve been given. Once we stop giving in, they’ll stop taking.
We all want somebody to share our life and love with. But if there are an odd number of people on the earth, and there’s a 50% chance there is, then somebody is going to get left out. And that somebody isn’t going to be me, even if I have to kill...
I slept so long last night that when I woke up I discovered a city had sprung up under my left armpit. This was staggering considering when I went to bed it was just a sleepy town.
I’ll leave a note in the lobby that says, “Moved. 315.” You had a meeting with me at 3:00 in room 315. The number 315 confuses you, so you wonder, “Did the room get moved, or the time?” Both did. You’re to meet me at 3:33 in room 333.
The Doctor: Amazing. Nancy: What is? The Doctor: 1941. Right now, not very far from here, the German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like dominoes. Nothing can stop it, nothing. Until one tiny, damp little ...
What amazes me most is that we, as a people, have shared our collective story of being thrown out of our homeland, Palestine, with each other and with many others- actually we have bored the world with this collective story- but somehow the individua...
Okay, on my first night, he tried to chat me up. You know how the story goes. ‘You have the most beautiful eyes, I’m very rich, want to see my bedroom?’ Blah, blah, blah.” “And because you turned him down, he’s more determined than ever,�...
God doesn't like lesbians," Grandma Huberman hised, throwing the magazine in the trash. Jennifer knew what lesbian meant, and she knew she probably was one. But she couldn't understand why God would hold that against her or against Monica Mathers, wh...
O.K., then, all right, they would adopt a white-trash dog. Ha ha. They could name it Zeke, buy it a little corncob pipe and a straw hat. She imagined the puppy, having crapped on the rug, looking up at her, going, Cain’t hep it. But no. Had she com...
Maggie Smith is an amazing woman, and not as serious in real life.
I love voice over! I just think it is amazing!
