American actor
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Every time I'm on a TV show, and I have a [sexually explicit] line, they never say, "Don't say that! At all!" Because I wouldn't; I know you're not supposed to say that. Instead they say: "Can you find a cute, G-rated way to say that?" Okay. Cleaned-up, G-rated filth is way creepier than straight-up filth. Which is creepier: "I wanna shove my hard cock in your wet pussy" or "I'm gonna fill your hoo-hah with goof juice!" That line right there is completely G-rated. You can say that on TV. And that's fuckin' horrifying. ...Try saying that in bed, "I'm gonna fill your hoo-hah with goof juice," and prepare for the winter-y freshness of Mace.
The night we elected Obama, CNN had holograms. They had fuckin' holograms. We have Star Wars technology now. What if that means Barack is gonna to be the miracle he seems to be? What if this really is the dawning of an amazing age? He gets in there, fixes the economy, gets us out of Iraq and Afghanistan. We've got Osama bin Laden and George Bush in dunking booths filled with urine. You can just throw apples at em all day. And then what if he starts slinging amazing future technology on us. You know suddenly we get hover boots and teleportation pills and there's floating cars everywhere. At that point, would there be like two remaining holdout racists left? Like the last two guys down in Arkansas, in their hover boots? Just going, "Yeah, there's that nigger that gave us anti-gravity. I'm gonna be late to the cross burning. My free government blowjob robot broke. Fuckin' bullshit. This guy's the worst president ever. Just like a black guy to give you a blowjob robot for free and it breaks after 6 years. This sucks."
[on KFC's Famous Bowls] I just want kind of a light brown hillock of glop. If you could put my lunch in a blender, and liquefy it, and then put it into a caulking gun and inject it right into my femoral artery, even better! But until you invent a lunch gun, I would like a failure pile in a sadness bowl!
In the middle of Tom Cruise's speech, there's this sudden, dramatic pull-in to his face, and there's tears in his eyes, and he says, "we live in a cynical world," and that's when my brother went, "FUCK YOU!" at the top of his... oh, my God. That was... it was such a horrible, rude thing to yell, and I was laughing so hard. I could not get the air in to make the sound of laughter. People ask me, "what is your favorite comedy of all time?" Jerry Maguire, when my brother yells, "fuck you!" at Tom Cruise. It is a 90-minute setup to one punchline. It's like not jerking off for ten years, and then painting the garage! Oh, my God, I'm seeing dead kings!
I love the fact that I grew up in Sterling, I really do. Because when you're growing up in a nondescript, soulless, boring town, you've been given a present from God. And the present is: The Test of the Small Town. And you pass that test when you go, "I'm leaving before I kill everyone and then myself." That's when you pass. You have passed. You fail when you go, "I'll get a job at the Citgo and fill my truck up for free!" Oops, you fucked up. And the person who administers your test, year after year, until you can't take it any more until you can't take it and you leave, is the movie critic on the local news. That's the guy whose job it is to keep everything relevant and cool and important away from you. You have to get off your ass and go find it on your own initiative.
I didn't realize how bad my outlook on life is until I went on a press tour for Ratatouille and had to talk to children's magazines and children's TV shows. And I wasn't interviewed by adults; I was interviewed by actual smiling children. And I didn't realize until that point how desperately I depend on negativity and cynicism just to communicate with the outside world. It's pathetic. The Oswalt family crest should just be a pair of eyes rolling off to the side, a bag of Cheetos, and then the word "fuck." That would be our shield that you'd see retreating from the great battles of history. "Fuck this. Bows and arrows? Nobody told me anything about bows and arrows. Goodbye."
[on Barack Obama's election] Do you realize for the next four years America is gonna be a cool eighties cop flick? "Barack, get your ass in my office now! Did you balance the budget again?!" "Yeah, it was just sitting there, chief..." "You wrecked twenty cars! Senate's gonna have my ass for this." "Eh, whatever, chief." And he rides away in a Camaro on two wheels.
...I send money to NPR [National Public Radio], I support them, I support them philosophically. But, it's UN-LISTENABLE RADIO! You understand me? I send them money, so I don't have to listen to them.
When, when did conservatives steal rock and roll from us? When did that happen? All the AM stations, nothing but racist fascist douchebags, all their break music is this blasty-ass, gut-bucket rock and roll. Bill O'Reilly will play the White Stripes, for God's sakes! Then you turn it over to NPR and their break music is a sad, lonely saxophone echoing through a sewer pipe somewhere. When did that happen?
So you turn it on, [imitates AM radio announcer] "Next on Bill O'Reilly, why black people smell different!" [imitates hard rock electric guitar]. [imitates NPR announcer] "Later on NPR, we'll talk to a woman who makes macrame belts out of old typewriter ribbons." [imitates sad lonely saxophone echoing through a sewer pipe]. Play some Zepplin, for God's sake.
"It's our pledge drive here on NPR, and we have a 20-minute field recording of a tumluku which is a Bosnian instrument which can only be played when you have a pierced scrotum and three kids who have been killed by a land mine." [imitates tumluku]. "The Tybeshian practice of scream-singing rightfully died out in the 4th Century B.C., but two Berkeley trust fund students have revived it and here is a 40 minute sample." [screams incoherently].
They had a class at my college called "Physics for Poets!" Hey there, theater fags and English queers! Put on some pantaloons and a scarf and take a bracing shot of absinthe and skip on down through a field of gilly-flowers to the Physics department, where we'll teach you about the music of the spheres! Without using any scaaary numbers! And you can ask questions like, "Is the red planet Mercury like the crimson eye of Cerberus?" Whatever, D'Artagnan, sit the fuck down. Let's just get you through this.