What is it?

What is it that would cause an otherwise reasonably sane and well-adjusted heterosexual male to sleep overnight on the concrete outside Buffalo’s Rich Stadium, to dodge flying bottles and riot police on horseback outside Rotterdam’s Feyenoord Stadium, to travel to Koln, Munich, London and a host of other cities around the globe, putting jobs and relationships in jeopardy?

What is it that would cause him to jump around onstage before hundreds of classmates, in makeup and too-tight clothes, to render off-key versions of “Brown Sugar” and “Bitch”?

What is it, indeed?

Martin Scorsese gets it.

Martin Scorsese got it.

Thanks, Martin Scorsese.