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real tomato ketchup eddy?

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Nothing but the best!

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"This? This is just another in a long series of diversions in an attempt to avoid responsibility."

"I was thinking of the immortal words of Socrates, when he said 'I drank what?'"

"Do you mind if I name my first child after you? "Dipsh*t" Knight has a good ring to it."

"This? This is ice. This is what happens to water when it gets too cold. This? This is Kent. This is what happens to people when they get too sexually frustrated."

"What are you looking at? You're laborers...you should be laboring. That's what you get for not having an education."

"Tell me...what's Einstein really like?" "Dead."

I could go on and on for this movie.

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Still not nearly as bad as I'm the juggernaut, *****.

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The details of my life are quite inconsequential. Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15 year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe. At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Vilmer ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum -- it's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.

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I had a Mini Me poster.

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