An irregular dispatch from our men’s blog, The Cockpit:
Well, I finally went and saw that movie with the cowboys in love or the sheepherders in love or whatever. SPOILER ALERT: So it turns out they’re gays! It’s like The Crying Game, I guess, except they don’t try to fool you into thinking Heath Ledger’s a chick.
But–SPOILER ALERT NO. 2!–one thing kept bugging me: Why didn’t they do any fishing? I mean, there wasn’t any crystal meth and Viagra in the Wyoming backcountry in the ’70s, right? So sooner or later, you gotta crawl out of the tent and kill some time. And they’re supposed to be a coupla normal red-blooded guys from the American West, except for the man-on-man stuff, which, whatever, that’s where everybody wears chaps and womenfolk are scarce, so maybe that too, right, Kemosabe?
Anyway. Point is, what else is there to do in the middle of nowhere all weekend? Get drunk? Shoot the shit? Have brunch? Whaddya think straight guys do on their fishing trips? They were even camped out by the riverside. Get out your poles, already, fellas!
–Tom “Nice Pair on Anne Hathaway, Bro” Scocca
