My Brokeback Heart

What's a fag to do? In a post-scuba haze, you are lying on the sofa half-staring at the TV, half-wishing you could sit up to change the channel, and then the worst happens. Jack Nicholson, that creepy son-of-a-bitch, shatters everything you know and love. And the Oscar goes to... "Crash"!

What the fuck? Have I been a sleep for the past three months. Much like Jon Stewarts opening montage, was it all just a dream. Everyone loves Brokeback, even my folks. Ever hetero at work that's seen it has come to my office to announce how much they loved the film, as if the closing credits as straights to report their viewing to a homosexual immediately. Didn't the academy get the memo?

Okay, I'll be honest with you. I didn't see Crash. How good could any movie with Matt Dillon really be any good? Did you see In & Out? (Maybe, if Dillon could just get on stage, he could up the gay factor at the Oscars by outing a former teacher. But could you really "up" the gay factor on an Oscars telecast in which gay cowboys, Truman Capote, a mannish tranny, Dolly Parton, and a bunch of Japanese hookers are all nominated? How much public anal sex would be required to up that gay factor?)

The gays really do fall in love with things hard. Must be the latent lesbianism in us all. Once infatuated, it's all downhill. I really needed Brokeback Mountain to win. I had invested so much into it. I mean, I saw it twice. That's nearly $20 of my own money on the line. Plus, I used to stay up and secretly watch Jerry Springer just to see a 'mo on TV. This film was gonna change the lives of countless faggy twelve year-olds.

Clearly, I was coming at this from a wholly rational position. I knew early on that Brokeback Mountain was the best film of the year. That's why I didn't even see any of the other nominees.

In hindsight, perhaps my dedication to the film was a little silly. Coming off my Brokeback high, I think I was a little too in to it. A little fanatical. But I also realized it's not a gay trait. The lesbians are off the hook for this one.

Look at professional sports. Millions of American's root for their teams with unrelenting devotion, even dressing up like the athletes. I'll have you know that I managed to go the entire Oscar season without dressing up like a cowboy once! Sports fans paint their faces, line up for hours in the numbing cold, and scream and dance and cry with every victory and defeat. It's like a Madonna concert for the breeders.

So my devotion to Jack and Ennis is simply all part of the human experience. The force to identify with and celebrate something for which I have no earthly bond is unstoppable. I should embrace it. And take out Don Cheadle in a hail of gunfire. Watch out, Cheadle. I'm coming for you!