Paul Rudnick

Sometimes I come across snippets of information about other peoples’ lives, often in the NY Times. At first I’m intrigued and want to know more, but upon further reflection I realize, nope, that’s plenty.

For example:

This was from an article about Friedrich Liechtenstein, a German performance artist who spent a year living in a stairwell as “an ornamental hermit.” He “will soon begin filming a 10-part television series about the romance of gas stations.”

But will ten parts really be enough, to fully capture the romance?

An article about life coaches focused on Tamara Mellon, “a founder of Jimmy Choo shoes and mother of Minty, 12.” “‘You get over one thing and you get slammed with something else,’ said Ms. Mellon, 47, looking slinky in a crisp white blazer, a high-slit skirt and gladiator sandals. She recalled some of her ordeals: her father’s death, two hostile takeover attempts, taking her mother to court. ‘It’s a miracle I’m still here,’ she said.”

It’s never easy to take your Mom to court, but sometimes it has to be done.

Finally, there was a piece on a Jewish work farm in Connecticut, where mostly younger Jews pay lots of money to live in things called “instructional yurts” and provide products for “the boutique Jewish marketplace”, including “ethically butchered kosher meat.” These kids will also celebrate Passover in the California desert, as part of something called “Wilderness Torah.” This group went too far, when on a recent evening after dinner, they discussed how God created humanity, and whether “the dust of creation came from the four corners of the Earth.” This is impossible, because in the words of a fine Jewish woman like my mother, “THERE IS NO DUST IN THIS HOUSE.”

Q. What are the real Seven Habits of the Most Highly Effective People?

1. Constant snacking
2. The ability to walk to the gym, change into your gym clothes, and then decide “not today” and go home
3. Differentiating “lying down for a few minutes” from “taking a nap”
4. Deciding that the Fedex delivery person has seen plenty of recipients with crumbs on their t-shirts
5. Obsessively following a recent murder which occured when, after a drunken wife discovered her drunken husband having sex with another man, the husband and wife both boarded the same jet-ski, with the husband pushing his wife off the jet-ski three separate times before leaving her for dead on a sandbar. Why is anyone talking about the Middle East when this case is still only a few days old?
5. Spending a great deal of time naming your imaginary yacht, with an emphasis on names like “Sea More” and “Ocean View”
6. Feeling deeply superior every Friday because you don’t have a second home in the Hamptons, so you don’t have to fight the traffic
7. Comparison shopping for chocolate-covered peanuts

Q. When an adult website asks you to click on the box labelled I Understand and I Wish To Continue, regarding the site’s adult content, has anyone in the history of the world ever clicked on the No Thank You box?

A. No.

Q. After the vows, should the person presiding over any wedding ceremony ask the participants, “Do you understand and wish to continue?”

A. Yes.

Q. With regard to certain spellings and phrases, do all dictionaries and grammar sites change their decisions randomly, every other day?

A. Yes, especially when discussing all right and alright, and any more and anymore.

Q. Because of basic human compassion and political correctness, should no one ever refer to another person as fat, stupid or crazy?

A. Yes.

Q. Are most people on earth fat, stupid and crazy?

A. Yes.

Q. Then what should we call each other?

A. Brave.

Here’s the live video of this Miranda Lambert song – because
i like the fact that country artists are allowed to sing,
triumphantly, about killing their abusive husbands.

Let’s say that you buy a set of deluxe postcards at a museum gift shop, and the postcards are labeled something like French Country Gardens or Chateaux of Provence. Then onto the postcards, you photoshop portraits of fancy, attractive movie stars in lovely period costumes. Then, as you slowly look at each postcard, one at a time, you should also listen to a CD of tinkly, nostalgic tunes from the 1920s. Then take a nice long nap in a hammock. You have now pretty much experienced the new Woody Allen movie Magic In The Moonlight.

I love Woody, but many of his most recent films have been sunlit travelogues set in various high-end European vacation spots, including Paris, London and Rome. Woody’s starting to remind me of Thomas Kinkade, that kitschy, mega-selling artist who painted mostly gooey oils of fantasy cottages with lush gardens, and who called himself the Painter of Light. Woody’s turning into the Director of Light, or maybe the Director of Brochures. Of course, I was distracted during this film by some loud whimpering noises, which were coming from my dear friend, the still tragically single Stacy Schiff. Stacy was sobbing and touching herself inappropriately, because the movie stars Colin Firth, and since James Garner died and House went off the air, Colin is pretty much the go-to lust object for ladies of a certain age.

Colin plays a magician who specializes in debunking phony psychics and spiritualists, and he travels to France to expose Emma Stone, who’s playing a flirtatious young mystic. “Oh my God,” said Stacy, “This is too much! How can I fantasize about Colin when his love interest is gorgeous and almost thirty years younger than he is?” The movie never mentions this age gap, but Colin and Emma both look uncomfortable, especially when they’re supposed to be bantering and falling in love, and Colin seems more like Emma’s suave, erudite Dad. “I can’t believe it,” Stacy moaned, “only Woody Allen could make Colin seem creepy.”

The movie is packed with wonderful actors, all of whom get the same, slightly panicky look on their faces, when they’re being asked to deliver high school drama club dialogue; I could see them thinking, “But Woody’s a genius, right? So this is gonna be great, right?” Woody always attracts amazing groups of stars, so his movies can seem like ultra-refined cruise ship packages featuring name entertainment, or really polite celebrity roasts. In Magic In The Moonlight, Colin has many extended speeches about whether God exists, and about whether people need the illusion of magic to make their lives bearable. I asked Stacy what she thought about all this, and she said, “Well, I believe in God because He made Colin and coconut cake and movie-theater-arctic air-conditioning. And I think that maybe I’m a little bit psychic because the minute someone in this movie started playing a ukelele, I know we were in trouble.”

As for me, I believe in God because He gave us the trailer for that upcoming thriller Lucy, in which Scarlett Johannsen plays a girl who, after some genetic tinkering, begins to use 100% of her brain, giving her superpowers. I’m always a sucker for this plot device, like in Limitless, that flick where Bradley Cooper swallowed special smart pills and began thinking really fast and making a fortune on Wall Street. And I certainly believe in movie magic, because there are plenty of scenes in Woody’s latest where I was happy to just appreciate the vases and the hats. When it’s getting towards the end of July, sometimes a few beaded flapper gowns and plenty of uniformed servants are all the magic I need, if you ask me.

Marvel has announced that in an upcoming edition, Thor will be a woman, and that the new Captain America will be black. And while there have been gay superheroes, and Archie Andrews has recently taken a bullet for his gay friend, Kevin, we could still use a re-thinking of a central icon. Because if Superman was gay:

– It would explain the cape.

– Because he’s such a good guy, he’d still save people in the states where he couldn’t get married.

– He’d get really tired of the “So are you seeing Batman?” jokes, especially because they met on Supr, a hookup site for heroes, and it didn’t really click.

– Instead of Kryptonite, his weaknesses would be Mallomars and Joan Collins movies.

– Other gay men would hate him because he looks like that, and he never has to work out.

– His mother would still keep asking him about Lois Lane.

– Just to bug him, online trolls would say, “I’m sorry, but I think that Clark Kent is way hotter.”

– He would use his x-ray vision to check on the fiber content of his t-shirts and sheets.

– Ma and Pa Kent would join PFlag.

– Superman would tell the X-Men, “So all of you basically have just one superpower each. Well, I think that’s adorable.”

– His tagline would become “Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and in your dreams, Ironman.”

– Matt Bomer would make him feel fat.

– In private, he’d refer to Superboy as “the twink.”

-When the viciously homophobic Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni was in terrible trouble, Superman would somehow arrive a microsecond too late to rescue him. Also, when evangelical Christians Scott Lively and Rick Warren, who have both actively supported Uganda’s homicidal hatred of gay people, needed a hand, Superman would be on a break. But in both instances, Superman would issue a statement to the media, reading, “Oops.”

– He would worry that his iconic hands-on-hips pose, in front of a rippling American flag, was too stereotypical.

– He would finally know what it meant to be a role model.

There have been countless Young Adult novels devoted to dreary dystopian futures, and there are currently TV shows which depict a future where: a mysterious plague has wiped out over 80% of the world’s population (The Last Ship), a mysterious plague has made all women infertile (The Lottery), and astronaut Halle Berry has a robot child and then mysteriously gets pregnant while alone in outer space (Extant.) Here are some other possible tomorrows:

1. A future in which the only people left alive are still arguing over whether Jennifer Lawrence was too old or too healthy to play Katniss in The Hunger Games movies.

2. A future in which a mysterious plague has eliminated all of the nannies, so the human race dies out, at least in Tribeca.

3. A future in which Halle Berry’s space baby grows up and asks Halle how come, in all shows and movies about space travel, whether it’s Raquel Welch in Fantastic Voyage or Sandra Bullock in Gravity, the female astronauts always wear formfitting spacesuits and eventually, lingerie? The space baby will also ask why, in the future, are all female scientists, surgeons and astronauts required to maintain hairstyles which keep their bangs in their eyes?

4. A future in which a mysterious plague has killed only the unpleasant and depressed people, so the earth is now populated entirely by cheerful, helpful folks, until a bloodthirsty war breaks out between the people who say “Have a good one!” and the people who say “Have a blessed day!”

5. A future in which, thanks to climate change, your mother was right and you do need a sweater.

6. A future in which Young Adult novels and films focus on young people who study hard and get good jobs, without whining about how no one “gets” them or appreciates their favorite tunes, without which they would literally die.

7. A future in which the apes take over, and start to develop movie and TV projects in which the humans take over.

It’s always fun when the Religious Right takes the bait and responds to any kind of satire. This week I had a Shouts&Murmurs piece called Hobby Lobbyist in The New Yorker, which dealt with the intersection of Christianity and crafting. Tim Graham runs a website called Newsbusters, devoted to “Exposing and Combating Liberal Media Bias”, which sounds as if Tim and his righteous followers burst in, with badges and bazookas. Tim gave his story the memorable headline: “The New Yorker Mocks Hobby Lobby With The ‘Crotch Cozy'”, and announced that my piece demonstrated the “self-congratulatory secular superiority of The New Yorker and its readership.” Tim referred to me as “Gay playwright and screenwriter Paul Rudnick”, which is exactly what appears on my business card.

The comments which followed Tim’s tale were, if anything, far more vehement, and exemplify the biblical term “panties in a bunch.” They included:

“There is a special place in hell for this offensive mockery.”

“It’s a good thing for him God is all-merciful.”

“I guess a plastic crucifix in a jar of urine is more this puke’s idea of crafting…No…Wait, it’s actually more his and his ilk’s idea of ‘art’.”

“With his freak lifestyle, this guy has more to worry about than Hobby Lobby.”

And my absolute favorite:

“My wife went to the Hobby Lobby in Morehead City on Friday. She said the people there were so nice and helpful. They have to put up with crap like this.”

At least now we know the true agony of working at Hobby Lobby: not only will the store’s health insurance refuse to cover birth control, but employees are also forced to read The New Yorker.

Florida Governor Rick Scott, when asked about gay marriage, replied, “People have a different view about it in our state. But in 2008, the voters decided that this state would be a traditional marriage state. It’s going through the court system. But what’s important to me is I don’t want anybody discriminated against.”

I’d like to help Governor Scott make even less sense. So in the future, he should feel free to use the following remarks:

“Here in Florida, gay people should be allowed to get married as long as one of the partners’ names is Susan. Our voters don’t care which partner.”

“Here at Florida’s world-famous Disneyworld, our voters believe that Mickey and Minnie should be allowed to get married, but if Mickey wants to marry Goofy, that would require a rabies shot and a flea collar.”

“I would like to see gay marriage in Tampa, but only partial gay marriage in St. Petersburg. That way people could chose, but everyone could still enjoy our beautiful sunshine.”

“If I was gay, I would get married in New York but purchase a second home in Coral Gables, where I would tell people that I was married, but then I’d laugh, so if those people were opposed to gay marriage they could think I was joshing.”

“I think our voters would agree that all sorts of marriages are allowed in Fort Lauderdale, but only over Spring Break, and only if both partners are drunk and wearing huge joke sunglasses.”

“Here in Florida the voters believe in traditional marriage, but if two male or female oranges wanted to get married, I’m sure that everyone would enjoy drinking the delicious juice which resulted from those marriages, especially on Sunday morning with vodka.”

Here’s the current country hit from Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood. I
like both of them because they look like a couple of lively, bored checkout
girls at Target, and not just in this video.

This adorable racoon climbed into the microwave right beside a bag of popcorn, and what happens next will make you laugh and then hate yourself!

This overweight woman decided to zoom down the waterslide head first, and what happens next will make you forward this video to all of your friends, one of whom won’t think it’s funny!

This great white shark just wanted to say hello to the guy in the kayak, and what happens next will make you wish you didn’t own a computer!

When this little boy decides to jump up and down on his backyard trampoline until he makes himself sick, what happens next will make you question the fact that you knew what was going to happen next, but you kept watching anyway!

When this man wearing a clown suit on the subway decides to expose himself to a grandmother and her six grandchildren from Ohio, what happens next will make you pray that the clown makeup made you unrecognizeable!

As a chapter in my continuing celebration of American crafts, may I present some poodle projects. Actual poodles are an ideal crafting inspiration, as they seem like something which God came up with, after He’d purchased too much pink yarn. Poodles are one of the few animal breeds, along with bunnies and baby chicks, which people like to dye bright colors. I’ve always especially loved two specific poodle projects: first, the use of a crocheted poodle to disguise a roll of toilet paper. And next, the classic chrysthanthemum poodle. Both of these ideas seem jubilant and tortured at the same time.

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I once gave my friend Todd Ruff the most perverse gift of all time: I had found, somewhere, a ceramic decanter shaped like a poodle. There were at least six detachable ceramic shot glasses hanging off the mother poodle, and the shot glasses were molded and glazed to look like they were made out of poodle fur. This gift was so grotesque that it made Todd physically uncomfortable, and he immediately stashed it in a dark closet, and he finally claimed that he’d re-gifted it, but I have my suspicions. I wonder if Todd killed that poodle, and I wouldn’t blame him. In Todd’s honor, here’s a poodle-inspired greeting card:

Tragically, there is no photographic record of the original poodle decanter. But these photos will give you the general idea. WARNING: do not look at these photos right before you go to sleep.

I’m just going to say it, right out loud: I want a Transformer, because I think they’re adorable. They look like Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robots combined with those expensive Dyson vacuum cleaners with the rotating ball. The latest Transformers movie is called Transformers: Age of Extinction, but it might also be named Transformers: An International Blockbuster Because CGI Destruction Is The Universal Language. Transformers also remind me of those garden ornaments which you can find at at any tag sale, where someone has welded together discarded iron gears, rusty fireplace tongs and flattened tin cans to create something which almost looks like a stick figure tipping its hat.

The racial politics of the Transformers are insane, because some of the robots wear vaguely tribal mechanical outfits and speak with cartoony ethnic accents; they’re like three-story-high American Girl dolls who can level entire cities. As far as I can tell, the good Transformers are the Autobots and the bad guys are the Decepticons, but this installment also brings us robot dragons and robot dinosaurs, although there still don’t seem to be any female Transformerettes. Basically, the Transformers are just another attempt in the great American search to develop dolls for little boys, while calling them action figures, so that those little boys, and their Dads, can feel more masculine when buying butch accessories for their Cabbage Patch militias.

In T:AOE, Mark Wahlberg plays an eccentric midwestern inventor with a barn full of junk, as if he’s waiting for the teams from American Pickers or Pawn Stars to drop by and make him an offer for that ancient player piano. As always, the female lead in any Transformers movie is played by a centerfold-ready hottie wearing Daisy Dukes and not much else; this character’s job is to constantly get into trouble so she can scream and require rescuing. This time out, Mark’s daughter is the babe-in-residence. When we first meet her, she’s just received a letter denying her a scholarship, most likely from Hooters. I kept waiting for Mark to wade into his mountains of debris and comfort his little girl by finding her a stripper pole.

For the first hour, T:AOE is really fun, because the characters banter and the robots are still mostly disguised as sportscars and big-rig trucks. The moment when a Transformer transforms, ingeniously re-engineeering itself from toaster to titan, is always magical – it’s like when the Fairy Godmother swirls Cinderella’s rags and tatters into a shimmering ballgown. But once the robots begin scaling office buildings and tossing Chinese cruise ships around, the movie starts to seem endless, and all of the Transformers blur into indistinguishable spare parts. I asked my husband Josh if he could tell which Transformer was which, and he rolled his eyes and snorted, “Of course I can, because I’m a guy. And guys know that the yellow sportscar turns into the yellow Transformer. Duh.”

Mark Wahlberg is always fun, because he’s like a soccer Dad on a rainy day who still won’t accept defeat. Kelsey Grammer and Stanley Tucci also show up, but most of the human cast members end up yelling things like “We’re out of time!” or “We have to get to the warehouse!” There’s also a wonderful actor named T.J. Miller, who’s a regular on HBO’s Silicon Valley as well; he specializes in playing slow-moving couch creatures who imagine they’re irresistible studs. I’m not sure what T.J. is playing in T:AOE, but once he was gone, I really missed him.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that by midway through this movie, no one involved, including the director and the screenwriter, could remember what the plot was. Everyone probably would just show up for work, and someone would say, “Okay, what if the Transformers blew up a secret government lab?” and then someone else would say, “Yeah, let’s do that!” And then someone else might whisper, “But didn’t we do that yesterday?” but everyone would ignore him.

Still, I need a personal Transformer, which I would use as a stapler, a shredder and as an especially gifted Swiffer product, to dust ceiling fans. The Transformers are like gadgets which you could order from Hammacher Schlemmer or the old Sharper Image catalogue, because you’re not sure what they do, you don’t really need them, but they might be useful for sorting loose change or trimming nose hairs. And besides, it’s hard to hate any movie which includes lines like “Release the mini-drones!”, if you ask me.