Except they told me the same thing
at 1 2 and 1 4.
So finally, my analyst
leveled with me.
He said it was probably a life choice.
It's funny.
"Gay" used to mean
such a happy kind of word once.
Not that it bothers me.
I'm pretty well-adjusted, really.
I mean...
...never being happy...
...isn't the same as being unhappy.
Is it?
Dr. Golden explains it real well.
He explains everything well.
I've had a lot of help.
Hey, Doris, you wanna go to
The Rocky Horror Show tomorrow night?
That sounds great.
It starts at midnight, so you better
check it out with your mom.
Calling Montgomery MacNeil.
Oh, Montgomery.
I suppose that a fuck
is out of the question?
There he is, Ralph Garci,
right on the button.
-Nice.
-Get off!
-I warned you this would happen.
-It's your case, man. I don't give a fuck.
-It's a joke, that's all. It just came out.
-Like me.
Yeah. Hey, Doris, listen,
I meant to tell you.
There's an open call for a movie
at the Diplomat Hotel.
-Oh, yeah?
-They're looking for your type.
-What's my type?
-You know, your type.
-Irishy, Jewishy, paranoid.
-What's the name of this movie?
-I Was a Teenage Fag Hag.
-You shit!
Stop it!
I never knew it would
be like this, Doris.
Oh, come closer, sweetheart.
Oh, my, such embrace.
The Silvermans know
some very important people.
They really have connections.
They're mishpoche with Soupy Sales.
Oh, listen.
Your nice white blouse is ironed.
Or you could wear your pink dress
with the ribbons.
-You look so pretty in that.
-I hate that pink dress.
-So don't wear your pink dress.
-I'm not going, Mama!
-Then gargle.
-I'm going out to dinner!
-It's a catered affair.
-It's not the food!
This is an opportunity to perform.
-Take advantage of it.
-I promised Montgomery!
Well, I promised the Silvermans!
It's a party, Doris.
They need a singer.
And you, you need exposure.
So you're going.
I'm not!
Very good, Doris.
What did you realize about yourself?
I don't like birthday parties.
Or pink dresses.
Or the Silvermans. Or Brooklyn.
Or even being Jewish.
I mean, it's not bad...
...but it's not all I am.
I don't know who I am,
and I never will if I don't assert myself.
I'm 1 6 years old.
I've got to assert myself sometime.
Don't l?
Okay, Doris. Ralph?
I was coming home from
school one day.
As usual.
I had a couple of pieces of business
to attend to in the neighborhood.
It was January.
It was snowing like crazy.
Santa Claus just ripped
everybody off.
He split for Toy Town or lgloo City...
...or the North Pole
or wherever the hell he goes.
So anyway... .
I was going home, and... .
I found this note.
It said my two chicks were in church.
What the hell are my two chicks
doing in church?
Somebody die or something?
That was... . That was a joke.
That was supposed to be a joke.
Anyway, I went home.
I dropped a little incense like
I always do, just to unwind a little bit.
And I put on the TV set.
And there was
this guy on the TV.
And he was talking
about Freddie.
He... . He said that... .
He said that Freddie Prinze
put a gun to his head...
...and he killed himself.
You know, it was an accident, man.
Shit, I mean, he was fucking... .
He was very gifted.
You always laughed at him
because he was very fucking talented.
And sometimes you didn't even
wanna laugh at him...
...and you laughed at him anyway.
But those motherfuckers...
...they had to say that
he was depressed...
...and he was suicidal,
and that he was fucked up.
They wanted his fucking ass, man.
They wanted to nail his ass.
Because he didn't think living
was such a happy trip, you know?
We can't have happy people
walking on this planet.
Everybody's gotta be
so goddamn serious.
Everyone's gotta stay in business...
...and suffer so the witch doctors
and the deodorant-spray people...
...and plastic surgeons
could stay in business.
And we can all go fucking pray
to the asshole God up there...
...that fucked it up
in