“In the fall of 1998, I began my freshman year at San Diego State University, which my dad commonly referred to as 'Harvard, without all the smart people.”

“Even though I grew up two hours south, I had rarely ventured to Los Angeles. I soon learned that my dad wasn't totally off base when he said, "Los Angeles is like San Diego's older, uglier sister that has herpes." . . . "Remember. Family," he said. "Also, how do I get back to I-5? I hate this fucking city.”

“One day I was on a walk with him and my dog, Angus, who was sniffing around in a bush outside a neighbor’s house. My dad turned to me and said, “Look at the dog’s asshole.”“What? Why?”“You can tell by the dilation of his asshole that he’s going to shit soon. See. There it goes.”It was at that moment, as my dog emptied his bowels in my neighbor’s yard and my dad stood there proudly watching his prediction come true, that I realized how wise, even prophetic, he really is.”

“Eventually my dad got home from work and set his briefcase down.'So. How was practice?' he asked'It was good. Why? Did you hear it wasn't?' I said, trying to keep my cool.'Son, no offense, but you play Little League. It's not the Yankees. I don't get daily reports about who's hitting the shit out of the ball”

“You're ten years old now, you have to take a shower every day...I don't give a shit if you hate it. People hate smelly fuckers. I will not have a smelly fucker for a son.”

“When I die, I die. I could give a shit, ’cause it ain’t my problem. I’d just rather not shit my pants on the way there,”

“On Showering with Regularity “You’re ten years old now, you have to take a shower every day…. I don’t give a shit if you hate it. People hate smelly fuckers. I will not have a smelly fucker for a son.”