Quotes from Tim Dorsey

He's the south end of a northbound horse.

Do not disturb!' 'No molestar!'—ever get the idea some things aren't translating right?

Your mom's not that bad," said Jim. "Are you trying to make me mad?" "Okay she is." "I knew it. You've never liked her." "What's the right answer?" "So you're just telling me what I want to hear?" Jim reached over and put a hand on his wifes. "I love you.

But what do you think all that shooting was about?" "It's U.S. 1," said Serge. "So it doesn't have to be about anything.

I smell panic," said Serge. "These are different animals now. They're starting to winnow out the weak at the fringe of the herd. We need to hurry or this could affect our snack situation.

I love conversations!" "Why?" "Because we're all crazy!" said Serge. "And that's how society makes progress: imaginations getting together and glancing off each other in accidental tangents of invention.

You just can't live in Florida without a pool. It's a necessity, like air conditioning. Or a bidet. Florida is America's bidet.

Mo's success was based on demographic research that showed talk radio audiences were predominantly male, bitter, undereducated, untraveled, did not know how to figure percentages and unfailingly blew all major life decisions.

History has an imagination greater than any writer," said Serge.

couldn't be scathed. He was the crack in the system

they grab you off the street without warning, sack over your head and into the back of a van. Variation on tough love, but incredible success rate...

There was no Disney World then, just rows of orange trees. Millions of them. Stretching for miles. And somewhere near the middle was the Citrus Tower, which the tourists climbed to see even more orange trees. Every month an eighty-year-old couple became lost in the groves, driving up and down identical rows for days until they were spotted by helicopter

Another tip to weld society together. Give the person up to bat at the ATM plenty of space so they're not nervous about you peeking at their PIN number or slipping a blade between their ribs the second the money spits out.

I'm being mellow, but everyone else is rowing against my harmony stream.

the nation's transition from a culture molded by sacrifice and hard work to a bunch of cranky, unobliged brats.

Serge nodded. 'And I respect your opinion because you smoke marijuana. You're chemically biased against violence and job applications.

the state retrained the bitter fishermen to farm clams, which they now cultivate with the latest marine science and profanity.

Unless the South Beach techno-dance clubs outbid them. They don't have live bands, just DJs up in a booth. And the DJs are now celebrities like Mick Jagger, with their own dance-mix followers who make pilgrimages club to club to hear them turn on the music. When did a stereo become a musical instrument?" Serge leaned forward and clicked on the car radio. "There, I'm an artist. Thousands of women on ecstasy now want to have three-ways with me.

For long rides, I require a stimulating conversation partner with deep reservoirs of cultural references upon which my metaphors can find purchase….

Route 27 was the spinal cord of Florida, practically vacant since the interstates, which took them up through towns with main streets that had the same early-evening closing hours since 1957. The only signs of life were the parking lights of local police cars on side streets, waiting for the local delinquents. Clewiston, Sebring, Clermont, Leesburg.

You're like the guy in those Dos Equis beer ads: 'He is the most interesting man in the world . . . Children's tearless shampoo still makes him cry.

plan? He wanted alpha males to populate the planet by impregnating multiple partners, so he gave females the gift of irrationality, able to morph the least little thing that happens anywhere in the world into being your fault, especially if it's your fault. Watch any nature show. The top lion is perfectly happy with a lioness, but then he inexplicably moves on. Why? She was trying to change him….

Cadillac Beach a novel TIM DORSEY

This is trash state U.S.A.