Michael Wolff, Donald Trump, and #MeToo

Michael Wolff has been a positive force in my life for thirty-four years.

In the early ’70s I published a beautiful and profound essay by Wolff in Ms. Magazine. Since then he’s helped me collegially more than anyone else. I’ve watched him navigate the murky pools of big-time journalism with awe.

He’s fearless and hugely talented with words. He’s also two steps ahead of the enemy. He writes what people think but are afraid to say. Currently he’s helping me gain courage to reveal my own experience with a red-carpet sleaze.

Wolff’s on the nose with Donald Trump. I know his career intimately: he’s always on the nose. Attacking Michael’s book, Fire and Fury for minor errors hasn’t fooled a soul. White House reporters look sickly green with jealousy on my color TV when they futilely lash out.

Why am I so certain?

In 1986, I went to work for Michael Douglas and had the misfortune to encounter the dread Donald Trump as he elbowed and shoved his way to the front of lines and threw money, private plane rides and other material perks at Douglas blatantly trying to purchase “friendship” with a star.

He made me shudder and back out of rooms. Once he shoved Glenn Close away hard at an awards ceremony so that he could introduce Douglas to the crowd. The frequently bankrupt Trump took 1 million dollars from my friend Charles Allen Jr. with no discussion of paying it back.

I can’t wait to witness Michael Wolff’s crowning on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert tonight. To survive as a democracy we desperately need more fearless reporters who write brilliantly, stand their ground and make Republicans sweat their asses off.

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