When I say “the end of the world,” I mean the end of the world as I know it.
1. Gay apparently only happened in the past and is now exclusively played by straights
I know we’re supposed to be really happy that we have three gay Christmas movies this year, but could they be any straighter? Tom Hardy, Cate Blanchett and Eddie Redmayne all play gay people from the past. But . . . those actors are all really straight. And what about dealing with modern gay issues? Carol made me cry, but what about a real gay situation like: ‘‘My girlfriend and I are dykes but now she says she’s trans,” or, “I want to marry my 23-year-old gay boyfriend but he’s on meth and is addicted to looking online for unsafe sex.” Oh no, all we get are British psychopaths from the ’60s, kisses in the snow and butch Eddie Redmayne — who is so damn straight in those interviews about The Danish Girl that I could kill him with a gun. Ugh. Well, I’m sure he just wants another Oscar.
2. Tyler Oakley
Have you seen this guy? He’s a Youtube sensation. He’s 26, holds mass slumber parties for girls and jumps up and down in onesies and high heels. And what is the Tyler Oakley phenomenon? Well, remember once, there was Dan Savage — kinda out there, kinda non-monogamous and kinda sexual? Well the new gay role model is Oakley, and like everything else these days, he is all about the kids. His fan base is mainly female and 13–17 years old (this would be the crowd that feels they have moved beyond Hunger Games). I was trying to figure out exactly what Tyler Oakley stands for, and all I could come up with was that he supports your body-image issues and that he is very much in favour gay marriage. But where do you stand on anal fisting, Tyler?
3. Donald Trump and Rob Ford
Need I say more?
4. No more cocktails or Splenda
This is beyond huge. I walked into a Queen Street bar the other day, gazed lovingly up at the 30 or so whiskey bottles under the mirror and politely requested a cocktail. The very hot guy behind the bar looked at me like I had lost my noodle. “We don’t serve cocktails,” he said, with great disdain. “Only wine, beer and booze straight up.” Well pardon me for being such a girly man. But much more distressing is the disappearance of artificial sweeteners from the coffee bars on Queen Street West. You should have seen the expression of the face of the bun-headed barista when I asked for Splenda. “We have honey.” Well, sorry I didn’t take a shit on the floor; I just didn’t realize that craving aspartame was now actually a crime.
5. You can’t get a good blowjob anymore
. . . without having to chat up some damn hipster. What are you doing hanging out in a backroom if you just want to have a caustic chat? And why do you want to have sex with me? I’m old enough to be your very old . . . father.
6. My students at university don’t shock me anymore
I shock them.
7. The end of intermissions
I’ve ranted about this before, but it’s gotten so out of hand. Routinely now, house programs say the show is an hour-and-a-half long with no intermission . . . and then you get there and find out that it’s really two hours long, and you’re in the middle of the row and can’t leave without waking up some oldster who’s asleep beside you.
You’re just afraid the critics are going to say your work isn’t profound enough to warrant an intermission. But so what if they do? Who cares what they say anyway?
I recently saw a play in New York City that was written in 1905. There were two intermissions. Each act was a half-hour long.