I’ve never seen an episode of Duck Dynasty. I’ve never eaten at Sizzlers. I’ve never ridden in a pick-up truck that I can recall. I don’t own a cowboy hat or steel-toed boots and I don’t drink beer out of a can. And, until this past summer, I’d never been to a rodeo. When the announcer, to whip up the crowd, thousands strong, started asking into his microphone for people to cheer if they were from Wyoming, from Colorado, from Oklahoma, from Texas, the response was deafening, impressive. On a lark he asked if anyone was from California. I’m convinced there were others like me in that crowd, just out of eye and earshot.
If you think you are a man, think again. If you think being a man isn’t defined by physical strength and courage, think again. When the cowboy jumps on the big cow with the horns–from the back of a galloping horse–and then ties the damn thing up after it rolls over top of him. Well, I think anyone in my situation would find themselves a little disoriented, an uncomfortable personal reevaluation thrust unexpectedly upon him.
The films are “furniture films,” by which I mean put them up on the big screen TV at your house, play them in an endless loop, and throw a party. Just have it running, don’t sit down and watch it. Dip in and out as you or your guests see fit, just like the music playlist playing in the background.