Something Is Wrong. War, Disease, Death, Destruction,

When I Was In Seventh Grade, I Was Caught Stealing Money From The Visiting Team's Locker Room During A Basketball Game. So I Was Sent To The Brothers. That's What They Called This Parochial School Up In Goshen, New York. I Was Supposed To Get Closer Supervision There And More "masculine Influence," Whatever That Means. But I Was Thrown Out For Telling A Couple Of Really Lame Kids On The Playground That I Had Heroin.

Comedy, I Figured, Was The Thing That Came To Me The Most Easily. Playing The Trumpet And Piano Took Practice. I Thought That Was A Waste Of Time. I'd Go Out On The Street Corner And Be Funny. In A Minute.

Although The Photographer And The Art Thief Were Close Friends, Neither Had Ever Taken The Other's Picture.

In Terms Of Coke, The Only Money I Ever Thought About Was That Dollar Bill I Had Stuck Up My Nose.

Don’t Just Teach Your Children To Read… Teach Them To Question What They Read. Teach Them To Question Everything.