I Can’t Even Shoot Straight

Now that Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is almost history, the talk has turned from whether to end the policy to how. At least according to NPR.

Driving home the other night, I listened to a segment on the news about the attitudes of ordinary military people and their families. First of all, I wondered, who on earth cares what their families think? How could that be in any way relevant? But I digress.

The reporter interviewed a few soldiers who were, shall we say, less than enthusiastic about the change. What struck me, though, was the nature—and antiquity—of the argument: commenting on the challenges of dismantling the policy, one guy suggested that it might require the construction of new barracks for the gays—separate but equal, I’m sure.

So let me get this—you should pardon the expression—straight: if a soldier is in the closet, you don’t mind sharing quarters with him, but if he’s openly gay you want him to live next door? What exactly are you thinking: If he’s openly gay he’s more likely to be cruising you in the shower? Or are you afraid that openly gay soldiers will be screwing in their bunk beds in front of everyone else? (Because, as we all know, closeted homosexuals are so much more sexually discreet—you know, like Republican Senators who close the door on the men’s room stall at the airport before they start banging.)

Needless to say, these questions went unasked by the NPR reporter— no doubt in deference to the media’s new definition of fairness (i.e., treat the whackjob as if his opinion counted just as much as an expert’s, to give equal time to the other side—you know, like creationists).

I’ve always wondered why so many straight men seem to think we want nothing more than to jump their bones. It’s not just in the locker room at the gym, where they wrap towels around themselves before yanking off their tighty whiteys. Apparently, some of them are also afraid we’ll miss a shot at the enemy because we’re too busy checking out the sergeant’s ass.