“My grandpa doesn’t even have a grand to his name.”

“It’s like my grandpa always used to say, ‘A butter knife would make a deadlier weapon than a melting stick of butter.’”
“Your grandpa never said that.”
“No, but he should have. He was a damn fool not to have uttered those words.”
“My grandpa was a janitor, in the Great Depression. The greatest thing he ever said was, ‘Greg, I just Gregged all over your floor. Do you have a mop I can use to clean it up?’”
“Who’s Greg?”
“I don’t know.”
“What the shit kind of story is that? That story is bullshit. Greg doesn’t exist. Nobody knows nobody named Greg. It’s a unicorn name—it’s complete mythology.”
“What about Lou Greg, the baseball player?”
“Lou who? Lou Gehrig?”
“Here’s a Lou for you. Greg Louganis.”
“Bah, Greg Louganis doesn’t exist. He was a myth created by the Soviets to push their divers to perfection. The Russians realized they couldn’t be the best until they deceived their divers into believing there was someone who was always better.”
“I’ve seen Greg Louganis, and he’s as real as you or me.”
“You’ve seen what they wanted you to see. They gave you a blindfold to wear and convinced you it would improve your eyesight.”
”

“I wish somebody would have told my grandpa about the Cold War, so he could have at least put on a jacket.”

“If my last name were Bedient, I’d want to Irishize it and have you call me O’Bedient. Of course, just because you call me, doesn’t mean I’ll come.”

“Grandpa always used to make me ride in the bed of his pickup truck, so he could keep up his conversations with the 100-pound sack of manure he kept buckled up in the passenger seat. Grandpa said all they ever talked about was grass, but I know Grandpa used to do a little flirting, too.”

“I think I just inhaled a cloud shaped like the ghost of my grandpa, and all I have to say is grandma smelled better.”

“I have pride in my name, because I have pride in myself. I do not represent my name—my name represents me.”