My holiday movie choice was between King Kong and the gay cowboy movie. Hmm, which to choose?

I talked to some of the guys in the office and we all agreed that we could imagine circumstances where we would consider watching a movie about gay cowboys. For example, suppose we were in an airplane that was hijacked by terrorists who ordered the pilot to fly to Mecca, and on the way they decided to toss out all the infidels over the Sahara Desert. As luck would have it, us infidels land on a soft sand dune and survive, but without food, water or sunscreen. So for 10 days we crawl from one sand dune to the next, blistered, starving and within minutes of dying of thirst. We have the strength to crawl over one last dune, where to our surprise there’s a big, Blue Fox-type movie screen, and a man at the ticket booth giving away free food, water and sunscreen to anyone willing to watch the gay cowboy movie. Well, in that circumstance we would indeed consider watching the movie. But after considering it, we’d probably resume crawling, hoping to find something better over the next dune.

Even though I’ll never see the gay cowboy movie, it has put some disturbing thoughts in my mind. I was fortunate to grow up in an era when gay was never an issue, nor was non-gay, as cowboys seldom had anything to do with either sex. Occasionally one would kiss a girl, but it was a simple matter of pulling one’s coat over one’s head to avoid that scene, and it was only a matter of seconds before the shootin’ resumed.

We never had to wonder about the relationship between the Cisco Kid and Poncho, Zorro and Sgt. Garcia or the Lone Ranger and Tonto. We were troubled by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, as Dale was a strange name for a girl. But the kisses were innocent enough and besides, we knew Roy liked Trigger better.

As for King Kong 2005, I was disappointed to see a kinder, gentler mega-ape than the one that terrorized Fay Wray in the 1930s. The actress that played the part this time was afraid of Kong for maybe five minutes, then she fell for the big lug, spending the rest of the movie making googly eyes at him as he held her in the palm of his hand. They even went ice skating, resulting in the most inane scene in the annals of filmdom.

In the new King Kong, the ape either had to die or get engaged to his blond friend. When the airplanes blew him off the roof of the Empire State Building he seemed to be smiling, knowing he wouldn’t be around when they filmed the wedding scene.

King Kong didn’t bring in the money the filmmakers anticipated, which is too bad for movie-goers. Because you can bet that next time they remake King Kong, he’ll be gay.