Larry L. King on . . .
Reader/critics: "... thought buying a magazine in which I had an article they didn't like gave them the right to piss on my feet without danger of receiving return water."
A fat ballplayer: "He couldn't trap a fat bear in a phone booth and runs the bases like a man in leg irons."
Updating his biography: "I was born in a manger, and lived to be 32 years of age ..."
The lean years: "I am currently worth $1.98 if you count my body chemicals."
Book publicity: "Book Promotion is the nearest thang we got left in this Wunnerful Country of Ours to debtors' prison."
Clothes: "I wish it was like it was in the old days, when you could write to Sears Roebuck or Monkey Ward and they would rush you $9 worth of clothes by return mail and could wear 'em five years."
Vietnam (1967): I am damn discouraged over Viet Nam. Especially after the latest escalation songs coming from McNamara's Band.
A prayer: No need for further tests: I withdraw from contention as Job's successor. Simply haven't the patience.
Larry McMurtry: He is one of the most enjoyable persons I have ever been around not to drink much whiskey or smoke no dope.
Aging (1992): Ever since I turnt 60, and especially since I turnt 62, I cannot open my junk mail without being addressed as 'Dear Senior Citizen' in pitches trying to sell me burial plots, exotic insurance, discount subway tokens, catheters, prosthetics, memory courses, wigs, tomes on How To Enjoy Sex Though Far Past It, and nostalgia items dating back to Theodore Roosevelt.