A young gentleman approached me at Pieces bar the other night and we had a nice chat. It turned out he was Drago, the doorman at the bar XES, who famously denied me admission because I didn’t have ID. Crazy or just doing his job with an exacting attention to detail? The latter, I’m so sure, and he was funny enough to reference my writeup of the incident by saying to me, “Hi, I’m the freakazoid.”
Now that that’s all settled, I have a whole new battle based on a tired old one. I’m still getting flak for tearing up Miss California Carrie Prejean for her anti-gay-marriage stance. In The Nation, of all places, they talk about an MSNBC appearance I made on the subject, callling me “waspish misogynist Michael Musto.”
Well, let me make my position clear: I was making fun of the fact that Prejean was walking around in breast implants, having done semi-nude spreads, while holding up the bible in condemning gays’ right to marry. I was mocking the hypocrisy of such good-book-toting, as well as the absurdity of the pageant — which paid for her implants and regularly paraded her around as a piece of meat — having a problem with her having shown her breasts (though I also understood that it was a matter of contract breaking, so I sided with them over Prejean).
Got it? I truly thought the whole thing out. Implant that.