If We Define A Misanthrope As 'someone

There's No National Glue Holding Us Together Because Somebody Put Too Much Pluribus In The Unum.

No Matter Which Sex I Went To Bed With, I Never Smoked On The Street

Families Composed Of Rugged Individualists Have To Do Things Obliquely.

Americans Worship Creativity The Way They Worship Physical Beauty - As A Way Of Enjoying Elitism Without Guilt: God Did It.

Thank God I'm Over The Hill. The Only Heat I Have Left Comes From Hot Flashes, My Promiscuity Is Confined To The Words "one Size Fits All," And I Buy My White Cotton Unmentionables At Boadicea's Retreat, Not Victoria's Secret. None Of The Things Men Do To Women Could Possibly Happen To Me Now Unless The U.s. Is Invaded By One Of Those New Russian Republics Whose Soldiers Aren't Fussy.