“I admire from a distance. Too close and the flaws form a craterous landscape and the charm is lost. Who do you think I am, Neil Armstrong?”

“My eyes are so close together that when I cross my eyes, my irises actually trade places. My skin is so craterous that Neil Armstrong annually rubs my face just to reminisce about his time on the moon. And my nose is so long that my penis is jealous. But enough about how handsome I am.”

“I planted a tree. You’d think my neighbors would be happy for the shade it would provide them, but no, they said I planted it too close to their house. Since when is six inches too close?”

“It occurs to me to devise mental tests on myself to see if I am who I think I am, but then I think, “I am who I think I am, or I probably am, and a test I conceive and answer about myself isn’t a way to test if I’m another person pretending to be me, because no matter how I answer I’ll answer like myself, thus falsely proving to myself that I am who I think I am.” No, what I need is for my clone to create and administer the test.”

“I drew a self-portrait of myself, drawn with my eyes closed from a memory someone else may or may not have had of me. After I drew it I made the remark, "Gee, I guess someone thinks I am a dog.”

“I can’t work well when I am under stress. It reduces me to normalcy. Stress is my kryptonite. And I usually don’t change in phone booths, though I do take long distance showers there.”

“I think the best punishment for a misbehaving child is to strap them to a chair and make them listen to Lady Gaga. Actually, perhaps that’s too cruel, too close to torture.”