Attired in a baggy black T-shirt, purple velour shorts, and fluffy blue slippers, the curator of the Secret Museum appears at the screen door of his ranch house in Long Island and squints into the foggy gloom of the suburban afternoon. It is a little early for Pat Conte, noted collector of ethnic music and "world traveler who's never been anywhere—except Canada, for ten minutes." The caffeine level hasn't yet peaked in his decidedly hefty body, nor has he smoked enough cigarettes, so he feels "like crap." But then again, Conte, a man with a fierce sense of beauty, is always a bit out of sorts in the "ugly world."
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