The Greatest Sin For A Writer Is

It's Easy To Get Distracted By The Vaudevillian Aspects Of The Healthcare Debate.

I Think In The Old Days, The Nexus Of Weirdness Ran Through Southern California, And To A Degree New York City. I Think It's Changed So That Every Bizarre Story In The Country Now Has A Florida Connection. I Don't Know Why, Except It Must Be Some Inversion Of Magnetic Poles Or Something.

I Never Laugh Or Smile When I Am Writing. When I Come Home For Lunch After Writing All Morning, My Wife Says I Look Like I Just Came Home From A Funeral. This Is Not Bragging. This Is An Illness.

My Books Are Shelved In Different Places, Depending On The Bookstore. Sometimes They Can Be Found In The Mystery Section, Sometimes In The Humor Department, And Occasionally Even In The Literature Aisle, Which Is Somewhat Astounding.

Garcia Wondered Why People With Jesus Stickers On Their Bumper Always Drove Twenty Miles Per Hour Under The Speed Limit. If God Was My Co-pilot, He Thought, I'd Be Doing A Hundred And Twenty.