[grinning ] He got a real pretty mouth ain’t he?
I stick a razor in my mouth and do this… And you know what? She can’t stand the sight of me!
You should have seen his face!
Shut up! A hooker cut to look like Lana Turner is still a hooker.
Too much talk always spoils it.
“No." That’s the first thing you’ve said in the last four hours. That’s, a fountain of conversation there, buddy. That’s a geyser.
Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?
Watch where you aim that morning breath. That should come with a warning label.
She wears dresses… with no labels! What a freak!
Only in Hollywood do women faint because some queer deigns to design their clothes.
Taffeta, darling!
Supermodels. Heh! Nothing super about them… spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only about themselves. Feh! I used to design for gods!
You’re dirty, Lips. You need a bath.
The preacher said all my sins is washed away. Including that Piggly Wiggly I knocked over in Yazoo.
Oh, he gave me special instructions back of the pulpit Christmas Eve. He got to howlin’ “Repent! Repent!” and I got to moanin’ “Save me! Save me!” and the first thing I know he rammed the fear of God into me so fast I never heard my old man’s footsteps!
That’s what all these cripples down at the VA talk about: Jesus this and Jesus that, have I found Jesus yet? They even had a priest come and talk to me. He said God is listening and if I found Jesus, I’d get to walk beside him in the kingdom of Heaven. Did you hear what I said? WALK beside him in the kingdom of Heaven! Well kiss my crippled ass. God is listening? What a crock of shit.
I hate active listeners. I always feel like they’re to busy pretending to be listening to hear what I’m saying.
No, I won’t listen, and I won’t hear you out. Your passion is compelling. It’s also useless.
I talk too much. I also listen too much.
Times are tough; still I treat you to a lovely evening, and I get smart-alek BACKTALK.