“No one will believe in you if you don’t believe in yourself.” Not true. I don’t believe in myself, never have, never will. But plenty of other people have chosen to believe in me just the same. Done things for me in my career, given me opportunities. So… what can I say? This one is just a really poorly thought-out lie.

The most expensive home in America, the old Spelling place in Holmby Hills, CA (called The Manor) has “rooms just for gift-wrapping and just for silver and china display…” among many other special rooms. I guess everyone requires different facilities in their domicile. Some people really want an iMax theatre in their house. Some people [...]

NOTE: All of America knows I’ve lately been digging through my “archives” — all the drawings, report cards, journals, photos and other ephemera that my lovely mom saved for me, neatly organized by year. I am on a journey of self-discovery, but also I want to “use” the stuff somehow: It’s not doing me any [...]

Det. Benson: “Captain, we’ve got a situation. A lady in the Bronx just patty-caked an S.O.S. to Pitter-Patter from her handheld! She is being attacked by a sex criminal. She asked her Pitter-Patter followers to contact SVU for her, and we’ve been getting dozens of frantic patty-cakes at @sexyvictims.”

Don’t you hate being forced to use public bathrooms? It’s twenty f*cking ten (20f*cking10), can we finally be given some human dignity instead of being asked to just expose ourselves like animals? Stalls are for cattle, not people. Whose idea were group bathrooms? Some perverted Nazi architect’s? Logical question: Do we let strangers hang out [...]

We all know in our hearts that Facebook is “over,” so as a kind of nostalgia I wanted to post some rules I made up a while ago for those who were just discovering the ’Book. I hope something replaces Facebook soon so life can have meaning again. New thing, please! Thank you. Meanwhile: 1. [...]

Mrs. D.: A waking daymare of suburbia, wound up so tight it squeaked when she moved her head, her maskface producing the mirthless “backward laugh” common to all the moms around, a staccato series of high-pitched wheezing inhalations.

Then, in that way that the culture often answers my private thoughts, there he was again in the news, and the answer was what I divined it would be. I hadn’t missed the second big hit from Daniel Powter. I am not that out of touch. There wasn’t one.

Stand-up and stand-up backlash are such old news now. I’m not gonna get into it. The debate happened, and like acid rain, the Heenes, what to do about nuclear waste, and other controversies, it faded away while you weren’t looking. Accept it: Stand-up is here to stay. It will never sit down.

I wake to a woman’s scream. I hear a muffled sizzling sound and smell rotting cucurbitus. “What is that?” I cry out through my jack-o’-lantern mouth hole. “Oh, that lady in the other room is getting a Pumpkin Peel. Did you want one of those, too? They’re more money, but they get your skin SO smooth it’s unbelievable.” “No, thank you.”