"That's a great story that people like to latch onto...Very quickly we got New York club owners saying, 'You guys are too alike,' while Bill and I were saying, 'What are they fucking talking about?' It's the same approach to the subject maybe, but it's not the same act...But as I've said many times, a fable is sometimes better than the truth."

“Making a key decision now for our kids, it's religion decision time, you know...and I'm not bringing em up Catholic. I've made that decision. Boy, because I was raised Catholic, and NOO WAY! Uh-uh! Nope! Know what? I can't bring up my kids in a church whose authority system is entirely based on the size of fucking hats, okay? That's apparently how the Catholic church is run. The bigger the hat, the more important the guy, right? Priests have no hats, cardinals have those little red beanies, the pope has a collection of big hats...God must have a huge fucking sombrero up there in heaven! "Look at me, I'm GOD! Look at the size of my hat, who else would I be?" I don't know, lead singer of Los Lobos?”

“Cranberry Ale! Cranberry NUT CRUNCH FUCKING ALE! Cranberries and beer do not go together! One's for bladder infections, one's for getting DRUNK!”

“...and there aint a goddamn thing anybody can do about it, you know why? Because we've got the bombs! That's why, yeah! Two words: NUCLEAR FUCKIN' WEAPONS! OK?!”

“There we were in the middle of a sexual revolution wearing clothes that guaranteed we wouldn't get laid.”

“I am now the leader of the Lapsed Catholic Church, and here are the rules, my friends. Thou shalt not? Fuck that, thou fucking shall! As long as you don't have sex with kids or kill anybody you can do whatever the FUCK you want in my church! But if you so much as look at an altar boy the wrong way, you don't get transferred to some distant parish up in Nova Scotia, no fucking way, pal! You stand naked in the middle of Times Square wearing a big neon sign that says "I carry a torch for kids who carry candles," you fucking asshole. And there's no more magic, no more burning bushes or blueberry muffins. You screw up this time, the virgin mother shows up in your driveway like Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, she pistol whips ya, and then she sets your dick on fire, OK? Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife? Bullshit! You covet his wife, his house, his car, and his pool. You know why? Because he's coveting every INCH of your shit, pal!”

“I'm high as a kite and my teeth are green, merry fucking Christmas!”