Fwd: [kenslist] FW: Sheepish
The New Yorker - February 12, 2007
SHEEPISH by Paul Rudnick
Charles Roselli set out to discover what makes some sheep gay. Then =
the news media and the blogosphere got hold of the story. =97The Times.
Enough already. I’m Troy, a gay sheep, and I’ll tell you the truth. =
Although I’m conflicted about calling myself a gay sheep, because I =
don’t like to think that my sexuality defines me; let’s just say that =
I’m a sheep who happens to be gay. Being gay is just a simple =
biological fact, like having a fleecy undercoat or bleating while =
you’re being shorn, or getting aroused whenever you see a bulky =
turtleneck sweater.
When I was growing up, I assumed that I’d be just like everybody =
else, and that someday I’d be bred with a ewe and slaughtered. But, =
of course, those other feelings were always there; even when I was =
only a few years old I would gaze at another male lamb and think =
about sharing a stall, with just enough hay and maybe a nice mid- =
century trough. I tried not to focus on my urges, and =
whenever my mom caught me rubbing up against the fence post that I =
called Skipper I’d pretend I had lice. But as the years went by I =
started to act on my desires, first with Ed, who was a ram, if you =
know what I mean. Later, I became involved with Rick, a sheep my own =
age, although after our encounters Rick would always claim that he =
was drunk on compost, and he’d butt me with his head and insist, =
“Dude, let’s go get us some mutton.”
Finally, my dad found me with Rick, and he flew into a blind rage, =
yelling that he had no son, and that if I was lucky I’d end up as a =
cheap Peruvian cardigan worn by a truck-stop hooker in Alaska. And so =
I ran away, and I went wild. I experimented with everyone and =
everything. Bulls. Mules. Duck, duck, goose. I found out exactly why =
they’re called the Three Little Pigs. Call me Old McDonald, because I =
had the farm. I even made some adult films, and maybe you’ve heard of =
them: “Wet Wool,” “Lassie, Come Here,” and the mega-selling “Hoof and =
Mouth.” Then, one morning, I woke up next to a horse, a hen, and an =
ear of corn=97that’s right, all the food groups. And I was disgusted =
with myself. What was I, livestock?
And so I re-joined my flock, up on Brokeback. I didn’t expect to be =
accepted; I just needed some time to graze and grow. I had some =
terrific long talks with a wise old mountain goat, who told me, =
“Look, you can be anything you want to be=97gay, straight, pashmina, =
whatever.” And I found my faith again, when I realized that, hey, =
there were sheep on the ark. There were sheep in the manger. And at =
the Last Supper there was stew.
At long last, I found the strength to come out to my family, my =
friends, and even my co-workers, to say right out loud, I’m Troy and =
I’m gay, but I hope that isn’t the most interesting thing about me. =
I’m just like you: I like to stand around in the rain and get caught =
in barbed wire and defecate while I’m asleep. And the amazing thing =
was=97it was no big deal. Everyone nuzzled me, and my mom =
said that deep down she’d always known, and that she’d hoped that I’d =
grow up to be an artist or a performer or a cashmere crewneck. Of =
course, Little Bo Peep, my shepherdess, got a little teary at first. =
“Are you sure?” she wondered. “I mean, you’re so masculine.” And I =
informed her that being gay doesn’t mean you have to act like a =
hummingbird or a Chihuahua. And then she asked, very confidentially, =
“Is it true about Elsie the cow? And Ellen?” And I just rolled my =
eyes and said, “Darling.”
Right about then is when I met Doug. I saw him across the pasture, =
and I just knew. I assumed there’d be talk=97he’s a black sheep. And, =
I’ll confess, I used the oldest line in the barn. I sidled right up =
to him and I said, “Baa baa, black sheep, have you any wool?” And he =
looked me right in the eye and murmured, “Yes, sir, yes, sir, three =
bags full.” And I replied, “I can see that.” We’ve been =
together ever since, and we don’t care what anyone thinks. Because, =
baby, at the end of the day we’re all just animals.