Oh, Patrick.

You were probably on stage when Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.

But I’d still let you put it in me.

I love you.

At the Broadway opening of Macbeth.

So last night started out like any other night. We were cooking BBQ in my friend’s backyard, the boys were watching football, I was coughing violently and persistently (I am very sick today, kids, so consider it an expression of my love for you that I am conscious and writing), and we were generally acting like very cool people.

And then my friend starts talking on one of those wireless Bluetooth headsets and the other guys are like, “Oh, man, he’s gone over to the dark side.”

And I mention that with that piece in his ear he looks like those Star Trek aliens that are all like “Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated,” and I’m like, “What was the name of those aliens???” And no one can remember, but my friend with the earpiece is like, “I never watched the ones with Captain Picard. He’s really more of a politician than a leader.”

And I’m like, “What the fuck? How can you say that about Picard? He is the ultimate leader.”

And he’s like, “No, Kirk was a leader,” and I’m like, “Um, no, Kirk was a pussy.”

And this continues for some time until we have to abandon the notion that we are, in any way, the cool kids.

I love me some Jean-Luc.

At the Evening Standard Theatre Awards in London.