Every father says the same thing: "Where's your mother?"

Always end the name of your child with a vowel, so that when you yell the name will carry.

I said to a guy, "Tell me, what is it about cocaine that makes it so wonderful," and he said, "Because it intensifies your personality." I said, "Yes, but what if you're an asshole?"

A word to the wise ain't necessary. It's the stupid ones who need the advice.

I am not the boss of my house. I don't know when I lost it. I don't know if I ever had it. But I have seen the boss's job, and I don't want it!

People will frighten you about a graduation. They use words you don't hear often: "and we wish you Godspeed." It is a warning, "Godpeed." It means you are no longer welcome here at these prices.

It was because of my father that from the ages of seven to fifteen, I thought that my name was Jesus Christ. He'd say, "Je-sus Christ!" And my brother Russell thought that his name was Dammit. "Dammit, will you stop all that noise?! And Jesus Christ, sit down!" One day, I'm out playing in the rain, my father yelled, "Dammit will you get back in here!" I said, "Dad, I'm Jesus Christ!"

As I have discovered by examining my past, I started out as a child. Coincidentally, so did my brother. My mother did not put all her eggs in one basket, so to speak. She gave me a younger brother named Russell, who taught me what was meant by "survival of the fittest."

Human beings are the only creatures that allow their children to come back home.

Gray hair is God's graffiti.

My parents never smiled, because I had brain damage. My wife and I don't smile, because our children are loaded with it. Oh, my parents smile now, whenever they come over to the house and see how much trouble I'm having. Oh, they have a ball! "Havin' a little trouble, eh, son?"

Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope.

I love it when they ask you a question, you try and answer, they tell you to shut up! "Day and night, night and day, work my fingers to the bone, for what?" "I don't...” "Shut up!!! When I ask you a question, you keep your trap shut! Think I'm talking to hear myself talk? Answer me!!!"

When you're a father you censor yourself. You get just as angry with a child but you don't want to say, "What the filth and foul and I'll filth and foul, filth and foul and, yeah, ya filth and foul face, and I'll filth and foul, foul, filth!" You don't want to say that to a child so you censor yourself and you sound like an idiot. "Well what the... who... I'll... get out of my face!"

My wife and I were intellectuals before we had children. We were very, very bright people. My wife graduated from the University of Maryland, child psychology major with a B-plus average, which means that if you ask her a question about a child's behavior, she will give you at least an 85 answer. I, from Temple University, physical education major with a child psychology minor, which means that if you ask me a question about a child's behavior, I will tell you to tell the child to take a lap.

I always wanted to get some calves' brains, keep 'em in my hand. My mother would hit me in the head, I'd throw 'em on the floor. But knowing my mother, it wouldn't work. She'd say, "Put your brains back in your head! Don't you let your brains fall out of your head! Have you lost your mind?"

Look, you're driving a truck. Here comes another truck, gonna hit you. Now whether or not you hit the truck, you are going to have soiled underwear. Cause first you say it, then you do it!

Like everyone else who makes the mistake of getting older, I begin each day with coffee and obituaries.

When you become senile, you won't know it.

My father established our relationship when I was seven years old. He looked at me and said, "You know, I brought you into this world, I'll take you out. And it don't make no difference to me, I'll make another one look just like you."

I wasn't always black. There was this freckle, and it got bigger and bigger.

Parents are not interested in justice. They want quiet.

I love it when mothers get so mad they can't remember your name. "Come here, Roy, er, Rupert, er, Rutabaga... What is your name, boy?! And don't lie to me, because you live here, and I'll find out who you are."

Kindergarten

The big thing I remember most about growing up as a child was kindergarten. Now, to me the only thing, in kindergarten, the only good thing about it is, it teaches you how to say goodbye to your parents without crying. That's all. After that, forget it, they've got nothing else for you to do.
I remember standing in that schoolyard with 27 snowsuits on and my idiot mittens. You know, the idiot mittens are the ones with the string that go up your arm and around your neck, and the cool thing about it is, if you talk in the left hand you can listen in the right: "Hello? How have ya been? I see. Alright, fine." Find another kid with idiot mittens on, you run up and pull his left mitten and he smacks himself in the face with the right. Pow! Yeah, I used to love to do that, boy.
And we all stood in that line, crying: "Oh! Where are we goin?! We're gonna die! Gonna get us killed! Ohhhh..." And the next day, I was very cool: "Good bye, mother. Take care of yourself, won't you dear? I should be home, oh, twelve-thirty, quarter to one, somewhere around there. Might be a little late, I may have a little milk with the boys, know what I mean? Tell Dad I'll see him around dinnertime."
Now, once they get you inside, they're lost. They've got nothing for you to do 'cause you're only five and you're too dumb to care about anything else. They try, though. You know, "One and one is two." "Yeah, that's right, yeah. Right, yeah, cool man. One and one is two. Yeah, right. What's a two?" You don't care, man.
So then, so then, they try these other things, basic things. No chairs in kindergarten. Everything's done on the floor: sit on the floor, stand on the floor, you go home on the floor. Everything's in this circle on the floor, so you can look at each another -- little ugly kids with pointed heads. And you beat time to Mozart: Ta-dum-da-dum-BUM! Pa-dum-da-dum-BUM! "How long do we have to keep this up?" "I don't know. Go another then minutes, we'll beat her to death with these sticks, alright?"
Then she says, "Alright children, it's time for a snack." "Right! Now you're talking! Yeah, a snack! I want a Hershey bar! Me too! Give me a Baby Ruth!" No such luck. She brought out a box and gave us each and old, dried up, brown, nasty tasting, gag ya, stick-in-the-throat graham cracker. And ya gotta pray for something to wash it down. "Please, we're gonna die if you don't give us something soon. We got the hic-ic-ups and everything. Please!" She says, "Certainly." Went over and got a case of milk that's been sitting on the radiator for about 80 years. Nothing in the world better for a bunch of 5-year-old kids than good old lukewarm curdley milk. Yessir, we loved it. And the straws in kindergarten are the worst things in the world. Worst straws I've ever seen. They're good for one suck. PFFFFT, and that's it. Flat as a piece of paper, and you're sitting up here [straining sound].
Then to top if off, she says "Okay, it's time for a nap." Yeah, there's nobody in the world any more wide awake at eleven in the morning than a bunch of five year old kids. 23 kids on 23 cots sleeping, wide awake. Only one sleeping is the teacher, she's gone. [Snore] "Thank god for this break, boy I'll tell you what."