There are times when I almost envy jolly old Mr. Parkinson. He’s obviously having such a good time in my brain; tromping around with the microbial equivalent of hob-nailed boots, guzzling down pint after pint of dopamine, and let’s not forget coming up with new and inventive ways of embarrassing me in public! I mean, I thought I’d plumbed the depths of degradation with the drooling and incontinence, but apparently he’s just getting warmed up.
The latest humiliation is called the pseudobulbar effect, which I gotta say has a certain stylishness in the name, if not the actual effect. Basically I become incredibly, inappropriately labile at the drop of a sodden hankie. I’ve been known to burst into tears over The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (although that’s probably not the best example of rampantly inappropriate emotionalism.)
I’m just mentioning this so that, if I’m out in public on a gig or a set or somewhere and you see me start bawling uncontrollably over whether someone gets to keep his wardrobe, you’ll remember that I am, all evidence to the contrary, a manly man.