My mom was a manic depressive schizophrenic who, after a year in prison, went home and shot herself. My sister, Kirsten, an amazing poet, who was rai… - Christopher Titus

Every neighborhood on the planet has a house like this on the block. We've all driven past it. A bunch of people living there, too old to be kids, but never gonna be adults... You can tell that by the "AEROSMITH ROCKS" banner in the living room window... Four sociopathic pitbulls roaming the yard at all times... The brown one has one leg, just flops to the fence every couple of hours... You can tell when the family's doubled their net worth 'cause they parked a new gutted Chevelle in the driveway... The mailman's afraid to bring the mail, so he just gives it to the cops, 'cause hell, they're gonna be there anyway... And if you don't recognize this house in your neighborhood, you live in this house in your neighborhood.

And me having kids, with my family history? My mom: mentally ill, shot and killed her last husband. My father: six ex-wives, four heart attacks. Both of my parents think alcohol is a food group.

A lot of people tell me this, too: "Don't worry about it. It's God's will. Y'know, you weren't meant to be together. God's will." God's will? Really, God got involved in this? Really? Twenty years with somebody, twenty years of my life pretty much gone? All the money I made, the career I chose, pretty much torn to pieces? Two little kids' lives shattered? Really, God? Is that how you work? This brutal, disemboweling nightmare…is you? 'Cause if that's the case, then THERE IS NO GOD! (silence): And God said unto me: "Christopher...I did this so you could meet a 29-year-old, 5'11" Diesel jeans model who has two college degrees and already paid for her own boob job." [a light shines on him and he drops to his knees, imitating a heavenly chorus] How shall I serve thee, Lord?