Rob Rose

Has anyone ever referred to you as a punk ass mother fucker?

You are a punk ass mother fucker.

Who's an hour late and at my age when you find yourself making the most of even the smallest moments, the idea that you would swindle out of an entire hour, that you would have the balls to vaporize 60 minutes of my waking life is contemptible, it's criminal.

Come on son, if you're going to patronize me, at least put your fucking back into it, you don't have any respect for the HOFF. Am I right? You think I never held a knife? That I'm unfamiliar with the taste of blood? That I took a shitty sub par show about lifeguards and turned it into the highest rated syndicated hit in television history because I got fucking lucky?

I once forcibly sodomize a Vietcong colonel with a stick grenade because he placed an ancestral curse on me while I was interrogating him and I don't even believe in ancestral curses but that's how fucking deep I roll.

If you like stories about chance and coincidence and fate, then here's one you'd never heard. Boy meets girl. Girl almost kills boy by running a red light at rush hour. Boy is T-boned at over 60 miles an hour.

I see a lot of eyeballs. You better put 'em on a fuckin' dimmer, before I put cases ON ALL YOU BITCHES!

Make a lane… Make a lane.

Own the space. Own it.

I don't believe in fate, destiny… To me life's nothing but timing.

Narrating: "If Karl with a K represented The Light of the limo industry, then its Black Hole - its darkest dungeon - came in the form of a nameless, ageless, Eastern European immigrant known simply as The Jovi. He lorded over his company Cossack with an iron fist and a white-maned metal hair band wig that looked like Dog the Bounty Hunter had been dropped into a deep fryer."