There was a moment when I could’ve become a physicist or an engineer. I would’ve been bad at it. I would not have succeeded. I could’ve become a high-powered executive or an analyst. I would’ve fallowed in obscurity and misery. Once you know you cannot succeed, once you know you will only fail, then the path, it seems, is to do what makes you happy. I felt a great pressure to be perfect. I felt a great resistance to that pressure. I learned to think imperfection was really, really great. I could fail at being perfect or be perfect at failing. The path was astonishingly clear. I chose to be funny.