Smelly cat, smelly cat, what are they feeding you?
Remember who it was who feeds you.
Whenever the wind whistles through the leaves, I’ll think: Lowenstein.
Yeah, and I’m Jerry Cougar Mellencamp.
Hello, Jerry.
Hello… Newman.
“Hello, Colonel Bottle, this is Major Bellows, do you have the Nelson there?”
“Major, have you been drinking?”
I swear, if you start clocking my alcohol intake, I will start taking shots.
Ah, yes, the hangover. The free prize at the bottom of every vodka bottle.
That’s not excitement. That’s a hangover.
I once mixed tequila, absinthe and red wine. Came out pink. I’d never puked my favorite color before.
Oh, look, it’s the cholermus.
You’re looking very thoughtful, Truly. You look like a man who’s thinking about life and death and what it’s all about.
I hate to break it to you but there is no big lie. There is no system. The universe is indifferent.
What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany’s at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier.
A bed, even a temporary bed, is always oriented with the headboard away from the door. It serves the ancient imperative of protecting oneself against marauders.
This seat is the sovereign soil of my bottom.
I want the chair I was sitting in the night you called me to tell me I had a grandson. I want the chair I was in all those nights, when your mother used to wake me up with a kiss after I’d fallen asleep in front of the television.
So come on and get out of my chair, Meathead.
The cushion is merely symbolic. I’m giving you my spot on the couch
It’s another miracle of Saturnalia.