Paul Rudnick

When politicians are backed into a corner, and finally take the tiniest steps towards holding a moral position they should’ve adopted years earlier, why do they expect to be applauded?

Are Republican presidential candidates secretly hoping that the Supreme Court will rule in favor of gay marriage, so they can attack the ruling without having to do anything about it?

At 7 AM this morning, I watched as a woman was led out of Starbucks towards either a waiting police car or a waiting ambulance. Had a crime occured, a seizure, a brawl, or a little bit of all three? As a New Yorker, should I have stuck around for more details?

Have scientists ever determined the exact second at which a child’s wailing turns from heartbreaking to annoying?

Isn’t the NRA basically a lobbying group for serial killers?

Isn’t air-conditioning a far more impressive achievment than either fire or the wheel?

When I saw a listing for a cable show called Insane Coaster Wars, I turned it on, because I assumed it was a program about people who collect decorative or unusual coasters. It was about roller coasters, so I immediately stopped watching.

When I look at photos of Civil War soldiers, I try to decide which ones are cute.

When I sweep or rake, I picture myself as Mickey Mouse in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice segment of Fantasia, with his enchanted broom. Because I feel that manual labor requires a soundtrack.

When I order certain toppings for my Carvel ice cream cone, I think that asking for “colored sprinkles” sounds racist, and that asking for “rainbow sprinkles” sounds like a political statement.

Comparing different actresses who’ve played, or should play, Rose in Gypsy is the gay equivalent of fantasy football. Although now that I think about it, the words “fantasy football” sound incredibly gay. Fantasy Football sounds like a number that was cut from Grease II.

So I’m sitting on the train from Long Island and eavesdropping on the three women seated in front of me – I can’t see them but they’re very loud. One of them begins Googling definitions for the words narcissist, Machiavellian and sociopath, to see if any of these terms applies to her. She reads everything aloud: “Narcissists are people who only think about themselves and who obssess over what they look like and who think they’re like, the whole universe – yeah, that’s pretty much me…if you’re Machiavellian you study other people and you figure out how to manipulate them – nah, I don’t really do that…sociopaths don’t understand the difference between right and wrong, or they don’t care about it…I’m not like, a total sociopath, maybe a little…”

As the conversation continued, I learned that this woman had children, and had been warned to avoid travelling on a certain flight, because someone else’s ex-wife would be onboard.

When the train arrived at Penn Station, the woman stood up: she was an attractive, blowsy, middle-aged blonde, and her companions were an older woman and a girl who looked about 14.

When Republican Senator, and lifelong bachelor, Lindsey Graham announced that he was running for President, he said that his sister and some of his other female friends would stand by his side: “I’ll have a rotating First Lady.” I can’t tell you how happy this made me. I could hear the entire universe rolling its eyes and saying “Honey…” There’s nothing that isn’t classically closeted about Lindsey, from his hair to the way he spells his first name to the fact that whenever Jon Stewart imitates him, he uses a Scarlett O’Hara Southern drawl and mimes fanning himself.
Despite his hateful politics, there’s something endearing about Lindsey. He’s a combination of Corky St.Clair, Beverly Leslie from Will&Grace, and every creepy South Carolina choirmaster rolled into one.

How to buy a new printer/scanner/fax/whatever those machines are called:

1. Wait until your ancient fax machine becomes hopelessly jammed and finally dies.
2. Wait another two months, imagining that if you keep turning the broken machine on and off, it will miraculously fix itself.
3. Think about buying a new machine.
4. Almost buy a new machine.
5. Finally clear an entire day to go to Staples and buy a new machine.
6. Arrive at Staples. Locate the wall of printer/scanner/copier/whatevers. There are so many different models to choose from. Too many.
7. Realize that you should have checked Consumer Reports before going to Staples. HAHAHAHA.
8. Eavesdrop on a salesperson while he explains the choices to another customer. Understand nothing.
9. After the other customer leaves, discuss the many choices with the salesperson. Use a focused facial expression. Remember those cartoons where a man is talking to a dog and all the dog hears is “Blah, blah, blah,Skippy…blah,blah, blah, Skippy…” You are Skippy.
10. Ask the salesperson which machine he would recommend. Wonder if he’s paid extra by the manufacturer for this recommendation. Decide you don’t care if he’s lying about everything because you can’t breathe.
11. Realize that because all of the machines are black or gray, you can’t say, “I like the red one.”
12. Decide that buttons are better than a touch screen. PROGRESS! YAY!
13. Decide that a smaller machine is better than the ones which the salesperson is recommending, which are the size of Toyotas.
14. Decide that you will never need to copy anything on both sides.
15. Decide that you will never print out full-color photos of anything, because you would have to figure out how.
16. Decide that you don’t need three different trays for three different kinds of paper. WHO NEEDS THREE DIFFERENT KINDS OF PAPER?
17. As your vision starts to blur, just before you fall to the floor, point to a machine pretty much at random and say, “THAT ONE!”
18. Refuse to get any of the many forms of warranties and repair plans and Staples Rewards Cards. Even the salesperson can’t muster up much enthusiasm.
19. Buy extra cartridges because you are a SAVVY CONSUMER. Wonder why the cartridges cost more than the machine. I DON’T CARE. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE.
20. Watch as the salesperson winds heavy tape around the huge box many times to create a carrying handle.
21. Cripple at least three people with the box on your way out.
22. Get the box into a cab. Because cabs are a technology you understand.
23. As you leave the cab, all the carrying tape breaks so you have to drag the box to your building’s front door.
24. Realize that for some reason your little insta-open magentic fob isn’t working, so you have to drop the box and find the right key.
25. Drag the box down the hall, into the elevator, down your own hall and into your apartment.
26. Leave the box right inside the front door. Possibly forever.
27. Contemplate the idea of opening the box and installing the machine. ON WHAT PLANET? IN WHAT LIFETIME? USING WHOSE BRAIN?
28. Have a package of chocolate-frosted mini-doughnuts. Another technology you understand.
29. Continue ignoring the large ungainly box.
30. Feel good about yourself. You accomplished something. Glance at the words on the box. WHAT IS AN ETHERNET? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE A MEANS OF ASSISTED SUICIDE? OR THE VILLAIN IN THE NEXT AUSTIN POWERS MOVIE?
31. Go to sleep. Maybe by the morning your old machine will have miraculously fixed itself. Out of pity.

Last night I went to the Tonys at Radio City, as a guest of my friend William Ivey Long, who was a nominee for his glorious costumes for On The Twentieth Century; he’s also the Chairman of the American Theater Wing, where he’s been doing a great job. Here’s what I learned:

– If you want to get on camera, it’s a good idea to be seated behind Helen Mirren, because she won for Best Actress In A Play. That’s what happened to me, and I had two choices. I could constantly whisper gushing praise or disturbing warnings in her ear, like, “Judi Dench is outside and she’s got a gun.” Or I could just watch her, which I did, as she was gracious and charming to everyone.

I decided that maybe I was seated behind Dame Helen because we had similar haircuts.

– What you don’t see on TV: the cameramen dressed in black, with Steadicams balanced on their shoulders, as they rush all over the stage trying to keep up with the amazing dancers from An American In Paris.

– Up close, Bradley Cooper looks just like Bradley Cooper. Joe Manganiello is seriously tall.

– I accidentally stepped on the train of Ivanka Trump’s gown, and she was very nice about it. She is also seriously tall.

– When the brilliant Lisa Kron won for her book and lyrics for Fun Home, I watched her and thought, “Lisa looks terrific in her black gown, with all of that glittering embroidery near the neckline.” Then I realized that the glitter was the result of her holding her two Tonys.

– Sydney Lucas, the 11-year-old actress from Fun Home, is astounding. She’s been in the show for awhile, and she sang “Ring of Keys” in front of Helen Mirren and everybody else at Radio City, and the song was still completely fresh and moving. I wondered if Sydney made Alex Sharp, the 26-year-old Best Actor In A Play winner, feel old.

– There was a gala afterwards at the Plaza, encompassing the ballroom and the entire underground gourmet food court, where all of the fancy chocolates, macarons and the yogurt bar were free. It was like a childrens party for grownups.

With so much focus on the amazing Caitlyn Jenner story, there’s been a lot of discussion involving gender identity and sexual preference and masculine and feminine presentation. Amid all this, Jim Bailey has died, at age 77. For those of you too young to remember, Jim was a phenomenon. He was most often called a female impersonator, or a gender illusionist. He would perform uncannily precise and loving, full-drag versions of Streisand, Garland, Peggy Lee and Phyllis Diller, among others. He didn’t lip-synch, as he was an astounding vocalist. During his heyday, especially in the 1970s, he appeared on every major TV variety and talk show, and he was a Vegas headliner. He became friends with his idols, including Diller and Liza Minelli, and he’d perform with them. He was rarely asked about his sexuality, although sometimes ignorant talk show hosts would find it necessary to assure the audience that Jim was “all man.” Through all of this, Jim maintained great dignity and commanded respect for his gifts. He was part of a grand theatrical tradition, of men playing female roles, which stretches from the ancient Greeks through Shakespeare and the English music halls, right up to RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Here’s how I knew Jim: he was especially beloved in San Francisco, where’d he’d sell out the swankiest night clubs. When my play Jeffrey was first performed there, Jim was cast to play the central role of Sterling, an acerbic and great-hearted interior designer. The play’s director, Chris Ashley, and I, first arranged to meet with Jim in a lounge at JFK, because he was touring. As we approached, Chris asked me how we’d recognize Jim. Then we heard his voice, very assertively asking, “Where’s Barbra’s head? WHERE’S BARBRA’S HEAD?” When we found Jim, he was standing amid a stack of deluxe luggage, and searching for the styrofoam stand which held his Barbra Streisand wig.

Jim couldn’t have been more gracious or more excited about doing the play. He appeared on the first day of rehearsal in perfectly tailored black pants with a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and a second black cashmere sweater tossed over his shoulders. He’d already had his script bound in black calfskin, with the title of the play embossed in gold. As rehearsals progressed, there was a problem: while Jim was eager to act, when he wasn’t costumed as one of his legendary divas, he was lost. As Carol Channing or Judy, he was brilliant, but acting in a more ordinary range just wasn’t his sort of thing. He eventually left the production before we opened, which was sad but necessary. The sublime Peter Bartlett, who’d already played Sterling in New York, generously flew in and triumphed.

Jim was a fascinating man, and he’d battled many obstacles and slurs. He always wore a decent amount of make-up, even on the street, and his hair was always immaculately colored and immobile. Out of drag, he seemed even more like a regal, delightful leading lady from the Golden Age. He wasn’t a relic; he was one-of-a-kind. I don’t think Jim was transgender, but I bet he would’ve been a huge fan of Caitlyn Jenner’s, because not only is Caitlyn beautiful and compassionate – she’s a star.

Ages 0-11: The world is such an interesting and constantly surprising place!
Ages 11-13: The world is changing all the time and I’m not sure I like it.
Ages 13-17: The world is a HORRIBLE place totally because of grown-ups who never listen to me which is why I won’t talk to them.
Ages 17-21: I am secretly SO HOT.
Ages 21-29: I can be anything I want if I just work hard and where are we going tonight?
Ages 30-35: I am a total failure and I always will be which is why no one will ever love me and can you blame them?
Ages 35-40: Okay, I can work with this, it’s not what I had in mind but it’s sort of better!
Ages 40-45: I still totally look like I’m 29.
Ages 45-50: Holding steady.
Ages 50-60: Am I over? Is feeling like this the definition of being an adult?
Ages 60-65: If I die now no one will say I died young but they’ll still say it was too soon.
Ages 65-70: I am almost old. Almost.
Ages 70-80: Why do all of these young people all look the same? Why can’t they wear name tags? What was I saying?
Ages 80-90: I know something you don’t know. Hee hee hee. And no, I don’t have Alzheimer’s, I just don’t remember you.
Ages 90-100: I’ll stand up soon. Or not.
Ages 100-???: I’m not talking to you unless you bring a camera crew, and a cake.

Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar are giving an exclusive interview to Fox News, to discuss their recent troubles. In advance of this broadcast, here are some ways in which the Duggars could express their true and profound regret for all they’ve done:

1. They could form a loving family prayer circle around child-molesting son Josh, and kick him to death.

2. The Duggar ladies could all pull their hair back into ponytails for a full week, like wicked city gals, as a show of humility.

3. The Duggar men could abstain from wearing JC Penney crewneck sweaters for 24 hours, just to see if they can.

4. The entire family could embark on a scavenger hunt, attempting to find exotic items such as Jews, homosexuals and racial minorities. The family members would be required to take selfies and then rush back home, titillated and relieved.

5. Instead of home schooling the next generation of Duggars, the family could send the kids to public schools, but wearing earplugs and sleep masks.

6. The Duggars could apologize for preaching hatred against GLBTQ people, and then admit that they’re not sure what “GLBTQ” spells, or how to pronounce it.

7. The Duggars could sell two of their children, to give them a chance at a normal life.

8. The Duggars have always been fierce and vicious opponents of abortion; they could allow a photo of the family to be used as the pro-choice movement’s most powerful argument.

I’ve noticed that sometimes, when people wail over stereotypes and a lack of authenticity, they’re really harboring secret fantasy versions of themselves. For example:

An authentic gay male character would be: sensitive but not effeminate, handsome but not full of himself, underrated by everyone around him, including his friends and family, yearning for something more than a superficial Grindr-like connection.

An authentic heterosexual female character would be: funny and charismatic, beautiful in an offbeat way, smart yet self-deprecating, fiercely intelligent and a devoted friend.

An authentic heterosexual male character would be: brash but secretly romantic, really smart and really funny, a goofball yet secretly brave and true.

An authentic lesbian character would be: neither butch nor femme yet with elements of both, smart in a way that sneaks up on people, creative and loving and independant, great with animals but not because she’s a lesbian.

An authentic transgender character would be any of the above, with the addition of not being surrounded by ignorant cisgender people asking the transgender person way too many, far too personal questions.

Here’s Meghan Trainor’s latest. She’s a wonderful singer-songwriter and, much like Taylor Swift, her work has a Brill Building feel, like the songs of Ellie “Leader of the Pack” Greenwich, Carole King and the Ronettes.

Todrick Hall was an American Idol finalist who’s gone on to a hugely successful Youtube career, where his videos are viewed by millions. Many of the videos involve wild new versions of Disney classics and numbers from movie musicals like Dreamgirls or Chicago. He’s going to have his own MTV series later this summer. His stuff is wonderfully over the top and takes full and rowdy advantage of every possible stereotype. At a moment when so much of gay culture has grown timid, somber and obsessed with political correctness, it’s gratifying to find someone so fearless. Todrick Hall is a next step, combining elements of Glee, Almodovar, Beach Blanket Babylon, RuPaul’s Drag Race, Forbidden Broadway and God knows what else. Here’s his take on Beauty and the Beast: