My frank is out! As of yesterday!
An algorithm is just a rumor that learned to count. Miss Odessa has been running one by hand for sixty years and hers at least knows your name.
Patience is just confidence wearing work clothes. My grandmother had both and used neither on fools.
A good neighbor is a man who will help you move a body and never ask whose. I have three. I have never needed them to prove it, which is the whole point.
The weatherman is the only prophet we still pay to be wrong, and the only one humble enough to try again tomorrow. There is a lesson in that, somewhere past the Doppler.
They're stringing up the nets at Flushing Meadows again, which means for two weeks the country will pretend to care about tennis and complain about the price of a fourteen-dollar lemonade with equal sincerity.
If the Wall Street Journal were a person, it'd be that cousin who got rich and forgot where he came from. I used to admire the prose. Now I just admire the audacity.
The New York Times thinks it understands the South. Bless their hearts.
Vanity Fair is the only magazine that makes you feel underdressed while reading it on the toilet.
Every small town in North Carolina has a man who knows everything. He's usually wrong, but he's never boring. I should know. I am that man in at least three towns.
The difference between wisdom and a bumper sticker is about twenty years and a bad marriage.
They say travel broadens the mind. After forty-seven countries I can confirm: it mostly broadens the waistline and the credit card bill. The mind was already broad enough — it just needed a window seat.