You know, I am having a hard time seeing shock jock Howard Stern as any kind of American hero. There he is, with his long dark tresses and sunglasses, putting his fist up in the air like a militant Black Panther, advancing the cause of paid Sirius Satellite Radio. But is that something to admire in him?

In this month’s Esquire, still on the newsstands, Stern reveals that he used to ride in the car with his emotionally-remote father, who was always absorbed in whatever was playing on the car radio. Little Howard felt ignored. In the interview, Stern also lets it be known that he sees a therapist because he feels like a beginner at everything he tries.

I listen to Stern very occasionally, and he’s even made me smile from time to time. But oh boy, I find his stated desire to convert growing boys to his warped sexual worldview extremely distressing. I once heard him object to a mother’s measures to preserve her teenaged son’s innocence, and my blood boiled when Stern said, “soon he’ll be MINE!” I have two sons in my house, so I’m quite relieved they won’t be able to pay to hear Stern’s obscene program for many more years.