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The ruling in the Paula Jones case is so silly.

I've been caught in parachute pants. And on my high school yearbook, they used the wrong picture. They were supposed to use the picture of me with a nice suit on. They used me with my collar flipped up, in a fuchsia and white striped shirt. I blame Prince and Michael Jackson in the Eighties for that.

Nothing ruins the lines of a suit or blazer and makes you look more like a doofus than when your pockets are crammed with stuff - a wallet, a cell phone, keys, a calculator, a calendar, pens, etc.

My mother was pretty much on my case all the time.

I was talking on the phone in my trailer, and I looked in the mirror and I saw the badge clipped to my belt, a gun with a holster, and the suit and the tie with the jacket off, and it was just deja vu. I remember that image so clearly from growing up. My dad would come home for lunch, take off his jacket, have the gun and the badge.

Since the Puffy Combs case in New York, I will not try any more criminal cases.

I used to wear sneakers with those nice suits because I wanted Victor Sifuentes to have a bounce in the courtroom.

I would feel horrible to think I had put my name on a pistol permit and allowed someone to carry around a gun and they committed another crime.

A lawyer I once knew told me of a strange case, a suffragette who had never married. After her death, he opened her trunk and discovered 50 wedding gowns.

Having bodyguards is just part of being famous, I think.