Holden: "Why in God's name would I wanna keep writing about characters whose central preocupation is weed and dick and fart jokes? I mean, you got to grow, man. Don't you ever want anything more for yourself? I know this poor hapless son of a bitch does. I look into his sorry doe eyes, and I just... I see a man crying out. He's crying out 'When, Lord? When the bleep can your servant ditch this foul-mouthed little chucklehead to whom I am a constant victim of his folly, so much so that it prevents him from ever getting to kiss a girl? bleep! When, Lord, when? When's gonna be my time?"