Giddyup!

By now, those of you who regularly visit, know that things tend to roll around and ferment in my head for awhile – until they finish rising and burst forth from under the tea towel like so much bread dough. *shrug* Beats me – I must be hungry this morning. Anyway… In the category of “so much FRIGGIN’ ado about nothing,” I’m compelled to saddle up and trot head on into gay cowboy country. I’ve heard tell it’s called “Brokeback Mountain.” No, I’m not gay. No, I’m not a cowboy… cowgirl… cowperson… is there a PC word for this now, too? My relationship with horses actually came to an abrupt halt during a riding lesson that found me an unwilling participant in the tumbling routine of an improperly shod horse. Looking up to see hundreds of pounds of equine equilibrium lost and free falling towards your now-in-a-fetal-position-praying-like-hell body is a frightening thing. Having a breast so bruised and crushed that you’re actually hoping for a mammogram to get a little relief is excruciating. But, to cast an ear towards the squawking currently heard ‘round the world, NOTHING is as scary or unbearable as… wait for it… a relationship between two men. Who kiss. One of my jobs puts me in regular reading contact with a large gay community – male, female and everything in between. I’m not in their midst to judge them, nor would I ever do so anyway. They aren’t pulling up chairs at the foot of my relationship bed to critique what I do. I have no inclination to subject them to such scrutiny either. I am a permanent camper in the “Whatever Floats Yer Boat” park. Every single person on this planet deserves to be happy. Who the hell am I to tell them where that happiness should come from? Back to our feature presentation. “Brokeback Mountain” – described on the Internet Movie Data Base as, “An epic love story set against the sweeping vistas of Wyoming and Texas, Brokeback Mountain tells the story of two young men - a ranch-hand and a rodeo cowboy - who meet in the summer of 1963, and unexpectedly forge a lifelong connection, one whose complications, joys and tragedies provide a testament to the endurance and power of love.” Based on a short story, written by a Pulitzer Prize winning author, E. Annie Proulx. Directed by Academy Award nominee Ang Lee. And people see nothing redeeming or valuable in any of this. Why? Let me repeat… “NOTHING is as scary or unbearable as… wait for it… a relationship between two men. Who kiss.” I’ve heard plenty of men, in recent days, make comments like, “HELL NO I’m not seein’ that movie. WHY would I?” – with such disgust that one is made to believe it’s an affront to their manhood to even suggest such a thing. Honey, no one’s going to think you’re gay because you go to the movies. Is this what we’ve become? As a society? Because I know them, I can say with almost complete confidence that, if you offered these same men a movie with two women who kiss… oh, let’s say something as easy as “Wild Things”, “Poison Ivy” or “Gia”, they’d be fast-forwarding at lightening speed to watch Neve or Drew or Angelina because “two women kissing is hot.” In spite of the sound of minds slamming shut so fast that it’s deafening, others applaud “Brokeback Mountain.” The movie. The love story. The people that bring the story to life. Have I seen it yet? No. Do I want to? Absolutely. I could care less if men love, touch - or kiss - in it. I mentioned it to my husband and he said he’d like to see it too. I was pleased to see my very cinematically-aware brother-in-law praise the film on his website The Wide World of Aaron. Then, I went to work… People, for crying out loud. If you want to hate something, you’re entitled. I realize that. I don’t have to agree with you. You don’t have to agree with me. We have those freedoms. But don’t… and I very strongly mean DON’T… enter a place where you know you’re far outnumbered and begin to quote chapter and verse about how this movie encourages immorality, adultery, and all those other big words you like to toss around. Don’t be so homophobic as to honestly believe that a movie is going to “make someone gay” or that it “makes a mockery of marriage.” There’s enough argument going on about that topic as it is. Don’t think you’re sooo funny, quirky or original that you’re the only one who calls it “Bareback Mountain.” Trust me. It’s been done. Ad nauseum. You don’t have to trivialize or poke fun at things that bother you, just to quell your uneasiness. If you don’t support the film, don’t see it. No one’s going to come into your home and drag you kicking and screaming to the theatre. I wish I knew how to teach you tolerance. I wish I knew how to teach you to simply respect another human being. Most days, though, “I wish I knew how to quit you.”