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Politics : Impeach George W. Bush -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: jim-thompson who wrote (51753)1/17/2006 9:50:22 AM
From: paret  Respond to of 93284
 
Has this demon been sent to hell?



To: jim-thompson who wrote (51753)1/17/2006 10:00:05 AM
From: paret  Read Replies (4) | Respond to of 93284
 
the Utah Gay Rodeo Association
They're the ones riding sidesaddle.

.............................................................

Gay cowboys welcome the arrival of 'Brokeback Mountain'
Star Tribune.net ^ | Jan 4rh, 2006 | Brandon Griggs

Like many gay Utahns, Ritchie Olsen has been bursting with anticipation over "Brokeback Mountain," the acclaimed film about a secret love affair between two Wyoming cowboys. After all, the movie could almost be the story of his life.

Olsen grew up in Neola, Utah, a conservative town of about 500 people on the southern edge of the Uintas. His family ran a small cattle ranch, where Olsen spent much of his youth on a horse. Although Olsen struggled with his attraction to men, like the characters in the film he kept quiet and married a local girl, his true nature stifled by community pressure and his own fear.

"I didn't feel like I had any other choice," said the 32-year-old, who didn't come out of the closet until he divorced his wife 18 months later and moved away. "I was expected to fit a certain image, and I did. It created a lot of anxiety."

That's why for Olsen and countless other Westerners, "Brokeback Mountain" is an event film and a hot-button topic. Besides being a rare Hollywood drama about gay romance, it may be the first high-profile movie to address homosexuality within a group rarely associated with it: the iconic cowboys of the American West. These onscreen lovers aren't San Francisco hairdressers, they're stoic Marlboro men.

Based on a short story by Annie Proulx, the film tells the story of Ennis (Heath Ledger) and Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal), two young ranch hands hired to herd sheep on a lonely Wyoming mountaintop in the summer of 1963. Thrown together by circumstance, the pair forge an emotional bond that turns unexpectedly sexual and that neither man is equipped to define. "I ain't queer," Ennis says after their first drunken encounter. "Me neither," responds Jack.

Separated by geography and shame, the two marry women and settle down in different parts of the West, meeting for trysts in motels and by remote campfires over the next 20 years. The forbidden affair exacts an emotional toll on their marriages and on themselves.

"I found myself wondering what a gay person in such a masculine-oriented society did -- whether they fled to Denver or toughed it out," Proulx told The Salt Lake Tribune in 1999 when asked about the origins of the story. "I began thinking about homophobia. In fact, the thing that destroyed the relationship between the two characters was their own homophobia."

Members of the Utah Gay Rodeo Association, a group of part-time wranglers for whom "Brokeback Mountain" is almost a home movie, were among those who brought advance tickets for the show's opening in Salt Lake City.

"On the gay-rodeo circuit this movie has been talked about for almost two years," said Clark Monk, a Salt Lake City registered nurse who competes in roping and barrel-racing events. Monk hopes that "Brokeback Mountain," which lacks swishy stereotypes or an overt political agenda, will change moviegoers' attitudes towards homosexuality. "But I don't know if mainstream straight America is ready for it."

Monk, 48, grew up on a dairy farm in Spanish Fork and helped lead his family's cattle up and down Spanish Fork Canyon each spring and fall. But the religious and family pressure to conform was so great that he didn't explore his homosexuality until after he served an LDS Church mission and moved to Salt Lake City in his late 20s. Even then, he wasn't comfortable being out of the closet until he discovered the gay rodeo group.

"That kind of opened the door," he said. "I could do all the things I enjoyed as a kid and still be a gay man."

"Brokeback Mountain" is set mostly in the 1960s, when the gay-rights movement was in its infancy. But Utah's homosexual cowboys say the state's small-town attitudes toward gays aren't much more tolerant today. Milo Bardwell was raised on his grandfather's farm in Tremonton and, like most rural gay men, moved to a larger city to find acceptance.

In Tremonton, as in ranching towns throughout the West, the rugged cowboy myth leaves no room for homosexuality. But Olsen says he wouldn't trade his Neola cowboy upbringing for anything. And Bardwell, 39, who now lives in Herriman, bristles at the suggestion that his sexual orientation makes him less of a wrangler.

"It has nothing to do with how we can handle a horse or a rope. I can rope with the best of them," said Bardwell, who trains horses and competes on the gay-rodeo circuit. "We're not a bunch of sissies riding around."

If gay Utahns are lining up for "Brokeback Mountain," Utah's mainstream rodeo cowboys are almost as united in their disdain for the film.

"I wouldn't go see it for nothin'," said Lewis Feild, a rodeo coach at Utah Valley State College. "I feel the gay lifestyle is wrong. And I can guarantee you that if you talk to many people in the ranching and rodeo community, they're going to be the same way."

In Wyoming, where the state symbol is a bronco rider and gay rights have been a sensitive issue since Matthew Shepard was murdered in Laramie in 1998, opinion over "Brokeback Mountain" appears split along similar lines.

Ben Clark, a fourth-generation rancher, saw "Brokeback Mountain" at its Dec. 10 premiere in Jackson, Wyo., where it earned a standing ovation. Clark grew up outside Jackson and felt so lonely as a gay youth that he considered suicide. He moved to Southern California in his 20s, came out as a gay man and eventually returned to Jackson, where he raises quarter horses.

"I loved the film," said Clark, 42. "It's the kind of movie that everybody, especially straight people, need to see to understand the culture we grew up in and what we go through."

On the other side of the fence is Rick Makris, a part-time rancher from Evanston, Wyo., who believes the movie will harm the state's image.

"I ain't got nothing against gay people. But Wyoming is not the place to make a gay movie about cowboys. I think it's a slap in the face," he said.
____________________________________________________________

Members of the Utah Gay Rodeo Association
They're the ones riding sidesaddle.

Not Cowboys!!!
SHEEP HERDERS

not cowboys, and not a mountain

a better name would be
"Fudgepackers Hump"

Like many gay Utahns, Ritchie Olsen has been bursting ...

I confess to thinking this was an Onion parody, just based on the intro.

A woman I know took her boyfriend to see this film. Supposedly, he had no idea what the content was. When the movie got to the "love scene" he told her he was leaving. I about fell over with laughter when she told me.

" But what's their daily pudding intake?"
A mouthful?

Boo HOO! Poor little Gay Cowboys....



To: jim-thompson who wrote (51753)1/17/2006 10:43:46 AM
From: paret  Respond to of 93284
 
"Something's wrong when, in trying to keep herself alive, the terrorized woman becomes the criminal."

Battered woman carrying firearm convicted
WorldNetDaily ^ | January 17, 2006 | WorldNetDaily

Wife in danger from husband busted after leaving pursed gun in market
January 17, 2006

A woman who had carried a gun in her purse to help protect her from her husband, who she believed was trying to kill her, has herself been turned into a criminal as California prosecutors convicted her of carrying a concealed firearm without a permit.

The woman, whom San Francisco Chronicle columnist Joan Ryan calls "Rebecca" to protect her identity, was convinced her husband was determined to kill her. In 2001, she left him and went underground through the California Confidential Address Program, using a phony address in Sacramento, Calif.

In telling Rebecca's story, Ryan says last summer there were signs the woman's husband had found her. Knowing the police couldn't protect her 24/7, Rebecca began carrying a handgun in a pouch in her purse. She had purchased the firearm after leaving her husband, waiting the required 10-day period and registering it legally.

"Maybe [the gun] would save her from becoming one of the 1,300 people killed in the United States each year in domestic violence attacks," writes Ryan.

In August, Rebecca stopped at an Albertsons supermarket in Half Moon Bay, Calif., on her way home and accidentally left her purse at the checkout counter. It held her loaded handgun.

That's when prosecutors in California turned a woman in danger of her life into a criminal herself.

Explains Ryan: "She was arrested for carrying a loaded gun and sentenced last month by a San Mateo County court to 10 days in jail and 18 months' probation. Her conviction means she can no longer possess a gun, and it might jeopardize her participation in the Confidential Address Program."

Commented Rebecca: "I'm 55 years old. I've never committed a crime. I'm not a threat to anybody.''

Rebecca believed she could carry a concealed weapon legally without a permit because of an exception in the law for anyone who "reasonably believes that he or she is in grave danger because of circumstances forming the basis of a current restraining order.''

While there was a restraining order against Rebecca's husband, it had expired in June; she had thought it was permanent.

"The restraining order would have been enough to take it to a jury trial,'' Ben Lamarr, the lawyer who represented her in court, told the Chronicle. "It would have created a technical defense, but without that, she didn't have anything.''

An appeal of the sentence allows her to work in jail during the day and sleep at home. Even so, it will cost her $20 per day plus an additional $60 fee, She also will lose 10 days' wages, the gas to drive from the county where she lives to the San Mateo County Jail and the $160 fine she already paid.

Not only does the loss of her gun leave her more vulnerable to her husband, but prosecutors used her actual address on public records involved in the case, a mistake Ryan says they are trying to rectify.

"I'm usually not in the business of trying to get anybody's gun back, but with this conviction, she couldn't have it even in her house anymore,'' attorney Myra Weiher, who is trying to get the conviction set aside, told the paper.

"This is scary stuff she's facing (from her batterer). Guys like this don't behave in ways regular criminals do. They're stealth. They're all about terror.''

Concludes Ryan: "Something's wrong when, in trying to keep herself alive, the terrorized woman becomes the criminal."



To: jim-thompson who wrote (51753)1/17/2006 3:31:36 PM
From: ChinuSFO  Respond to of 93284
 
What has your post got to do with I posted. I did not talk about Clarence. I talked about the Republican party of yesteryears and the sharp contrast with the party today.

By the way, who is Clarence?