Blowing Whistles, and Other Indoor Sports

Imagine you’re a gay male prostitute. And let’s say one day you have a break from all of your sexing, and you’re flipping channels, and you come across a televangelist preaching the evils of homosexuality with the sin and the Sodom and the Gomorrah and all that. You find out this televangelist is the head of the National Association of Evangelicals, an organization that regularly consults with the White House. The kicker: You recognize this televangelist as one of your regular -- ahem -- clients. Yowza! What do you do? If you’re a hooker named Mike Jones, you suck it up (so to speak), and you write a book called I Had to Say Something: The Art of Ted Haggard’s Fall, all about your three-year relationship with this preacher, detailing the gay sex and drugs and such.

Fans of evangelical hypocrisy can hear excerpts when Books & Books hosts Mr. Jones’s reading tonight at 8:00. Seriously, much of our modern history has unfolded because of the work of whistleblowers -- whether they be heroes (like Enron’s Sharon Watkins) or jerks (for example, Linda Tripp). Say what you want about hookers; Mike Jones has balls. Wait, can we say “balls”?
Thu., July 5, 8 p.m.


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