Here's Michael Musto's year-end wrap-up column, complete with images of Musto as some of the year's biggest newsmakers. He kinda reminds me of Richard Benjamin as Donald Trump!
30 posts categorized "MICHAEL MUSTO"
As of midnight last night, it was exactly six years since my first post. It's been a tough thing to keep up with a dayjob and outside activities, and just when I think I might walk away, a valuable connection or interesting opportunity or a kind word comes my way. Thank you all for reading me.
Of whom are you more jealous?
Here are my favorite 100+ posts out of nearly 11,000. Please take some time to read (or re-read!) a couple and tweet or Facebook any you like.
FROM BOY TO MAN: BC B.C. (2007): The entire history of my novell and novel Boy Culture as well as the movie version; might be my ultimate post.
BOY ON FILM (2006): An account of the NYC launch party for Boy Culture as it played the TriBeCa Film Fest.
FRIENDS AND "FAMILY" (2006): The movie version of Boy Culture hits Chicago.
RAPT PUPIL (2006): The final night of Outfest with Boy Culture; I was fat but on the other hand got to meet Bryan Singer.
"Your pictures suck" (2008): An art critic attacks me, but not without sustaining some hits in return.
DRAWN TOGETHER (2008): How my desire to draw related to my secret desire. One of my absolute favorite posts.
LOST ANGELES (2009): My favorite photographic travelogue of L.A.
ART IMITATES LIFE (2006): My 9/11 and my distaste for grief tourism.
BURNING MAN (2007): Tribute to my late high school friend and first romance.
LOST BOY FOUND (2011): There is a book in here somewhere.
CIAO HOUNDS: OUR TRIP TO ITALY (2011): Finally got José to Europe.
ILLINOIS DEATH TRIP (2007): Ruminations on death while revisiting a past home, and the past.
PASSING BY (2008): Mourning the loss of a person I only met once.
Participating in a recent forum on how to effectively market at-home HIV testing, I got a $200 gift card. Not wanting to spend it on a hustler, I instead gave $150 of that to The Daily Show co-creator Lizz Winstead's Planned Parenthood, I Am Here for You fundraiser that happened here in NYC last night—and it was not only a good investment but also a good investment.
I showed up at 6:30PM at the Gramercy for the VIP reception to find a handful of non-famous women spiked with the evening's famous females—Winstead, Salon editor Joan Walsh, Sandra Bernhard and Lisa Lampanelli. I was the only dude for the longest time in a room filled with women and several womyn.
Talking to a few attendees about the art of the photo op, I figured out we were supposed to meet and greet the stars on our own—there was no formal line happening. This makes it a bit awkward because you don't really want to shoehorn yourself between Winstead and Bernhard when they're engrossed in a conversation about their bodies/their selves. Especially when you're announcing that you blog at something called Boy Culture.
But it was totally fine and the women were absolutely gracious and eager to pose for photos and chat. Winstead is the ultimate feminist to me—unswerving on principle, unbothered by political correctness, utterly hilarious. She was in boots and a dress that looked macramaed from a distance. She reminds me of Laurie Metcalf and Barrie Longfellow.
Had a blast with my buddy Jason last night at the party for Michael Musto's new book Fork on the Left, Knife in the Back (Vantage Point). I guess as I get to know more people and they get to know me, I'm less of a fly on the wall than one of the happy maggots feasting on the fame, quasi-fame and frivolity.
Michael's a New York institution, like the Empire State Building or that weird smell you keep telling tourists you don't notice. He's also a fabulously funny writer, and his new book has fresh stuff in it, making it a must-buy. (No, really, I must buy it—it wasn't given away for free at his party unlike the Bacardi.)
I'd never been to the Copacabana on W. 47th, but I loved it. It felt like a throwback to the disco era—like 54, or maybe 47—and was oozing with cheesetastic outfits, semi-boldface names and genuine merriment. The love Musto engenders from certain circles is shocking considering his ability to cut a bitch with his words. He's embraced because he's unafraid to cut deserving bitches but is generous to those who haven't earned the scythe yet. He's authentic, and if his book is anywhere near as fun as this party was, you should check it out. (And not ...of the library.)
We arrived and ran into my friend Kenneth, who was waiting for artist and designer Scooter LaForge. They'd both turned on Madonna during (actually, before) HydrangeaGate but I have to stick with my gays even over my diva, so I was looking forward to chatting with them more later on. When I caught up with Scooter, he confessed that Madonna's response to HydrangeaGate had won him back. He met Madonna during the American Life era and said she'd been really nice, which is saying a lot since that was the era of, "I'm hot!"
Inside, the low lighting and kitschy decor helped to distract from the fact that most of us were dreaming we were 40 again, and the alcohol made quite a few of the attendees act like 20-year-olds. Mike Diamond, who doesn't need to have lighting on his side in order to make a splash, was interviewing as well as dancing with the kinda-stars.
My first celebrisighting was Geri Reischl, who dubs herself "Fake Jan"—she replaced Eve Plumb when Plumb refused to return for those godawful/gotta-love-'em Brady specials. She was decked out in the fishnets she'd worn at Chiller Theatre, when I first met her, and was traveling with her personal publicist/photographer. Nice chick! She'd apparently originally met Musto bar-hopping one night.
I met up with Joe of Joe.My.God. and also one of his most vitriolic commenters, World of Wonder's Wayne, who I hadn't realized was the dude sitting two down from me at yesterday's screening of The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Wayne was in Versace delecto and like me was roving about looking for good photo ops. He found some.
It was also a pleasure seeing Eddie Rabon, one of (one of???) Broadway's finest dancers. (And he dances well, too.) He was there with a friend, enjoying his last month or so as Mr. Gay U.S.A. I then spotted Paul Iacono from (the new) Fame and The Hard Times of R.J. Berger (on which he played a horse-hung nerd), but he was chowing down on the amazing food so I didn't want to give him indigestion by introducing myself over a meat course.
Then things got nuts when hostesses Countess LuAnn de Lesseps and Lisa Lampanelli arrived. The clusterfuck around these women and guest Jerry Springer was a nightmare! I mean, Downtown groupies with cameras were unselfconsciously elbowing me to get their shots. But it was unnecessary as all of the stars were beyond accessible and gracious, posing for like an hour, even when they got frighteningly cornered on the second floor.
Michael Musto calls our attention to a 27-year-old clip from the set of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, in which Barbra Streisand and Carrie Fisher surprise Harrison Ford by whipping him in S&M gear.
Unfortunately, at the end of it, Barbra quips, "I feel like a faggot."
Of course Pat Boone is an insane monster these days, but wow, did he ever have a killer keister. Life has just released shots of him fully naked and showering. That they were never published until now is not hard to believe, that Boone will appreciate this is harder.
Also, Steve McQueen's bare butt. Both seen here.
Matt Bomer has joined the starry cast of Dustin Lance Black's 8, which will get a Broadway reading soon. More at Musto.
Michael Musto is a legend, but I think his posting this clip of Barry Bostwick, Lisa Hartman, Barbi Benton, Gwen Verdon, Paula Kelly, Judy Landers, Sandahl Bergman and others dancing to "Jump for My Love" might be the pinnacle of his career...
Popstar Sir Ari Gold was holding hands with a guy on the Short Line bus here in NYC when the driver told them they'd have to move to the back. Seems they were making him uncomfortable. Poor baby! When they refused, the driver called for a state trooper, who informed him they were doing nothing illegal and he had to keep driving. Apparently, other passengers were supportive.
It's comical that the driver felt he had a point. [Sidebar: Awww, Ari is taken, guys!]
A prominent TV personality is about to come out of the closet with Howard Bragman's help. The "media blitz" is supposedly beginning next week.
UPDATE: A Michael Musto reader suggests Don Lemon, the CNN anchor who not long ago came out as a victim of child sexual abuse. He would be a good candidate as someone who apparently believes public figures can be up front about personal issues, and also as someone who is publishing a book in June.
Called—ding! ding! ding!—Transparent.
He'd sure be a welcome member to the team.