I’m as annoying as Charles Dickens. I’m just not as popular.
When you start out, you practice being annoying in the hopes you’ll prove to have the talent and the breaks to be another Dickens. Sure, that’s the dream… But as I approach my 67th birthday without having achieved any of that success, I’m on the verge of being forced to admit to myself that, in the end, I’m just an asshole. And you know, I can live with that.