“I’m like Casanova meets Henry Ford. My reproduction methods are more like production methods one might see in a factory, complete with conveyer belts, mechanical assistance, and cheap labor.”

“I’m too horny tonight to be productive. Right now the only thing I could make is love. And then I wouldn’t be productive, I’d be reproductive.”

“I wonder if babies could be made more efficiently on a conveyer belt.”

“The final few weeks in a town before you move always feel like vacation, like you’re observing and taking it all in, seeing with fresh eyes. I’m moving back to Orafouraville. A college degree is so worthless that it is invaluable. When everybody has one, they are cheap—except if you don’t have one, and then they are priceless.”

“A blanket could be used at the end of meetings, to wrap things up—sort of like a big office burrito of productivity.
”

“This is the true story of my life, as told by a complete liar (me). While that sounds like an honest statement, it’s also a lie. I just can’t help myself. Unless I’m helping myself to seconds at dinner. You see, I can’t possibly be a complete liar, because I’m a rather incomplete person. I look complete on the outside—two arms, legs, ears, eyes, etc—but on the inside I feel half empty at times. If I were a glass of water, I’d make myself thirstier for more than I could supply. I thirst for love like a straw in the Sahara. I hunger for your body like a cannibal in the mountains. Wait, that last bit wasn’t true. I should have said cannibal on a deserted island.”

“I want to mass produce wretchedness. An unsatisfactory factory. Then I want to produce cologne and stench—at different ends of the production line. So it would be an olfactory factory.”