That's what gay literary legend Felice Picano calls me in his beautiful review of my new book in Out in Print: Queer Book Reviews.
Let's not keep that under our hats.
Oh you think so? - Louella Parsons
He gives you the compliments you deserve, but then that ought to be obvious to anyone who's been around, as he obviously has. It's just that this particular reviewer is so unworthy of you, so full of himself that in the end he declares you the meanwhile for the eventual greatness that will be his, when his own volume gets written. Which, from the egocentric and humorless way the piece was written, I doubt will ever be worth reading. And that string of back-handed compliments, starting with your being the best since Hedda Hopper? A McCarthyist rat, who couldn't finish a book without a co-author - that's who preceded you? With friends like these, you sure won't need enemies.