If artists often get famous posthumously, then there is only one thing for me to do—fake my own death. Or I could just wait for science to give me a clone, and kill him instead. He’ll get my credit, and I’ll get his money.

“Don’t lift my words without permission. It might lead to a hernia.”

“Do not stick your dick in your car’s exhaust pipe. Instead, fuck your neighbor’…”

“When it comes to Schopenhauer, I think I need a To-Go box.”

“I snorted powdered flamingoes while I pondered love. I sat at the bar two hours…”