Quotes & Jokes by Christopher Titus / page 14

Bad news has never been broken gently in my family. Because, breaking it gently takes a few extra seconds. And who's got that kinda time? Hey, we maybe failures, but we are very busy.

He looked like the type of dad that volunteers to hand out the trophies to the losers in Little League. And when did that start?! You don't get a trophy for losing. You get pizza and you shut the fuck up.

The towers fell, and the first thing that went through my head was my dad's voice: 'Well, you brought a new life into the world, and the world's over. Nice timing, numbnuts!'

First grade show-and-tell, I taught the class to mix Long Island Iced Teas. From scratch.

The only way to tell my Dad something is to write it on a note, and tie it to a brick, and throw it through a window. Of course, now Dad's armed with a brick.

After all, once you've driven your drunk father to your mom's parole hearing, what else is there?

You guys get that, right? Gas is three dollars a gallon, our president is a Texas oil man? Heh, we're fucking retarded.

You don’t get a rebate at the end of your life for living with an idiot.

I find that Americans are all in the middle somewhere, except for the extreme nuts, and extreme nuts on both sides are the loudest. And that's why it feels like we are polarized.

We come into this world totally defenseless. A bundle of soft, toothless cartilage that can't roll over, focus, or hold in it's own spit. Then, while you're lying there all helpless some doctor walks in and chops off the end of your penis. Who's a happy baby? Who is? Yes, you are.

In 1998, in Laramie, Wyoming, two guys beat up Matthew Shepard and left him on the side of the road hanging on the fence to die. They killed him, because Matthew Shepard was gay. They killed him, because Matthew Shepard was gay? They killed him.

Couldn't we have just sent Saddam a mad cow burger and a Paxil and been done with it in, like, '03?

I’m the sort of loser who succeeds really well and then drops a turd in the punch bowl.

Lady, if you laugh and you don't make a noise, you're a shaker, and it's freaking me out.

If you're already so low on the parental totem pole, skill-wise, that you're letting your child scream "frickin'" in a public place... just let 'em say "fuck." He's already going to prison. Don't make him a bottom-bunk, too.