Letter to Brokeback Mountain Author Annie Proulx

Dear Annie Proulx,

Ten years ago you attended a Village People concert. Soon afterwards, you wrote an “original” short story about two gay cowboys. Two talented writers transformed your pamphlet into a screenplay. The director of “the Incredible Hulk” agreed to put his unique perspective on the film. And finally, two Hollywood hunks agreed to kiss each other on the lips. By the time “Brokeback Mountain” actually hit theaters you were only distantly tied to the project…call it the Six Degrees of Ledger’s Bacon.

And yet, you fired off a nasty memo blasting the Academy for giving the best picture award to “Trash” instead of “your” Backdoor Mounthim. You compared the Academy Awards to a small-town talent show. You claimed that the voters were “out of touch”. You encouraged your reader to skip next year’s Academy Awards. We applaud you. You are so brave. You get it. When you don’t win, the easy thing to do is to be gracious in defeat. It takes 1960s gay cowboyesque courage to give an anti-acceptance speech with the tone of a 7th grader who didn’t make the cheerleading squad.

We wrote a short story too. It’s about two gay, racist poets moonlighting as investigative journalists who uncover Andrew McCarthy’s plot to kill the 1980 Russian Olympic Hockey team. We plan to get wildly talented famous people to write, direct and star in this lighthearted buddy comedy, which is sure to be next year’s awards circuit darling. We’d be honored if you’d be our red carpet escort. You sound like a ton of fun and this could be your big chance to be attached to a winner.

Insincerely,
Matt