The out-and-about homoeroticism among Trump and his fanboys is weirdly reminiscent of a trip to NYC's "The Saint" nightclub in the early 1980s. Except for the suits and ties. Otherwise, expect a crowd, lots of noise, and the occasional gentle ass-grab somewhere along the way. Oh, and "The Village People" - lots and lots of that.

Nothing legally wrong with being part of an old man's harem, boys, but, hey, loosen up.

Well, Coriolanus, I could not help but smile. I was there in the early 1980s, visiting NYC from out of town. A friend who was gay (still would be except he's deceased) got a wicked grin when explaining he was gong to take me to a "special place," no, really, it would be okay, blah, blah. Had no idea what he was babbling about. Standing in the line outside the club waiting to get in, looking around at the rest of the folks - AIDS really hadn't hit too hard yet, so this was a loud and proud crowd, easy with being there - well, it was an image that could have fit in well in an early Woody Allen movie. I survived intact, found the experience not my cup of tea but fascinating.