
Phyllis Diller, who died this week, made an artform out of wisecracking. She was prolific, self-deprecating and slyly radical: Her jokes tended to focus on her failings as a housewife, her lack of sex appeal, and the shortcomings of an imaginary husband and overweight mother-in-law.

Phyllis Diller on housework: "The only time I ever enjoyed ironing was the day I accidentally got gin in the steam iron."

On sex: "I admit, I have a tremendous sex drive. My boyfriend lives forty miles away."

On her looks: "I was so ugly. I don't know how to tell ya: I wore a choke chain until I was 12. My own ouija board told me to go to hell. A peeping tom threw up on my window sill."

On New Yorkers: "Any time three New Yorkers get into a cab without an argument, a bank has just been robbed."

On kids: "We spend the first twelve months of our children's lives teaching them to walk and talk and the next twelve telling them to sit down and shut up."

On old age: "You know you're old if they have discontinued your blood type. Someone compliments you on your alligator shoes, and you're barefoot."

On old age: "Old age is when the liver spots show through your gloves."

On providing for your kids: "I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them."