Boom, crush. Night, losers. Winning, duh.

I’m not Thomas Jefferson. He was a pussy!

I have to tell them that last night was a shameful train wreck filled with blind cuddly puppies.

What they're not ready for is guys like you and I and Nails and all the other gnarly gnarlingtons in my life, that we are high priests, Vatican assassin warlocks. Boom. Print that, people. See where that goes.

The only thing I'm addicted to is winning. This bootleg cult, arrogantly referred to as Alcoholics Anonymous, reports a 5 percent success rate. My success rate is 100 percent.

The best winners are the worst losers.