I’m straight, white, borderline southern, politically conservative.
I put Roman Catholicism in my rear-view theology mirror years ago, and now am being slowly squeezed out of Methodism because I’m taking a pass on a leftward denominational lurch.
I’m a college dropout, wrote news and sports, and knocked around motorcycle sport for 30 years. The things I have in common with Michael Musto, a flamboyant gay East Coast entertainment writer and social commentator, are limited.
He presumably hasn’t read my book, a cult classic that enjoyed a five-minute press run and even my mother couldn’t pick up. I’m not really familiar with his Musto’s best sellers, and only vaguely aware of his pretty darn impressive career.
Today, with thanks to Mr. Musto, I learned three things about flamboyant coastal liberals. First, never assume too much. Second, be on the lookout for gems from any source. Third, I like Michael Musto. We could probably run out of conversation over a grape juice shooter, but I’m a fan. So …
Behold an honest journalist!