I actually think of being funny as an odd turn of mind, like a mild disability, some weird way of looking at the world that you can’t get rid of.
People, particularly comedians, always say it’s all in the timing. But in written humor, the reader has to do his own timing—you have to build in the timing for the reader, which is difficult.
I don’t think that I can act at all, to be honest. I just can be who I am. I pretend to be this person, whoever it is. I don’t call it acting.
You know, most of my pictures, they go, don’t worry about it, we don’t have to write nothing, Richard will fix it.
I like performing better than anything in the world.
I have a scar on my right hand, about two inches long. Depending on how I feel I’ll either tell you I was stabbed or I punched a window or I pulled a baby from a burning building.
I’m proud of myself because I’m onto a new thing. At 65, I’m different than I was. We’re all rethinking what we said 20 years ago, 10 years ago, four years ago. I’m not even rethinking it, I just don’t have the same way of doing humor or conversation.
I am basically just a nine-year-old boy that evolved.
People say, “Out of the suffering of Jews, the need to laugh is critical for the survival of the race.” But we didn’t become comics out of misery. We became comics because there are a lot of laughs in Jewish households.
Cancer is probably the most unfunny thing in the world, but I’m a comedienne, and even cancer couldn’t stop me from seeing humor in what I went through.