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Werewolves and Lollipops
- Every time I'm on a TV show, and I have a [sexually explicit] line, they never say, "Don't say that! At all!" Because I wouldn't; I know you're not supposed to say that. Instead they say: "Can you find a cute, G-rated way to say that?" Okay. Cleaned-up, G-rated filth is way creepier than straight-up filth. Which is creepier: "I wanna shove my hard cock in your wet pussy", or "I'm gonna fill your hoo-hah with goof juice!" That line right there is completely G-rated. You can say that on TV. And that's fucking horrifying. ...Try saying that in bed, "I'm gonna fill your hoo-hah with goof juice," and prepare for the wintery freshness of Mace.
- If the standard for being impeached is 'getting a blowjob' or 'covering up a burglary', then shouldn't Bush have been executed by now?
- They had a class at my college called "Physics for Poets!" Hey there, theatre fags and English queers! Put on some pantaloons and a scarf and take a bracing shot of absinthe and skip on down through a field of gilly-flowers to the Physics department, where we'll teach you about the music of the spheres! Wihout using any scaaary numbers! And you can ask questions like, "Is the red planet Mercury like the crimson eye of Cerebus?" Whatever, D'Artagnan, sit the fuck down. Let's just get you through this.
- I was thinking the other day about a time machine...and the first thing I thought of doing if I actually had a time machine, is that I would go back in time to about 1993 or '94, and kill George Lucas with a shovel.
- I don't give a shit where the stuff I love comes from! I JUST LOVE THE STUFF I LOVE! Hey, do you like Angelina Jolie? Does she give you a big boner? Well, here's Jon Voight's ballsack!
- I love the fact that I grew up in Sterling, I really do. Because when you're growing up in a nondescript, soulless, boring town, you've been given a present from God. And the present is: The Test of the Small Town. And you pass that test when you go, "I'm leaving before I kill everyone and then myself." That's when you pass. You have passed. You fail when you go, "I'll get a job at the Citgo and fill my truck up for free!" Ooops, you fucked up. And the person who administers your test, year after year, until you can't take it any more until you can't take it and you leave, is the movie critic on the local news. That's the guy whose job it is to keep everything relevant and cool and important away from you. You have to get off your ass and go find it on your own initiative.
My Weakness Is Strong
- [on Barack Obama's election]
- Do you realize for the next four years America is gonna be a cool seventies cop flick?
- Biden: Barack, get your ass in my office now! Did you balance the budget again?!
- Obama: Yeah, it was just sitting there, chief...
- Biden: You wrecked twenty cars! Senate's gonna have my ass for this.
- Obama: Eh, whatever, chief.
And he rides away in a Camaro on two wheels.
- I didn't realize how bad my outlook on life is until I went on a press tour for Ratatouille and had to talk to children's magazines and children's TV shows. And I wasn't interviewed by adults — I was interviewed by actual smiling children. And I didn't realize until that point how desperately I depend on negativity and cynicism just to communicate with the outside world. It's pathetic. The Oswalt family crest should just be a pair of eyes rolling off to the side, a bag of Cheetos, and then the word "fuck". That would be our shield that you'd see retreating from the great battles of history. "Fuck this — bows and arrows? Nobody told me anything about bows and arrows, goodbye."