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DEAR JESSE: I am SOOO going to get letters.

© Clinton Davis

Grrrr…. Arrrrgghhh…. Hey folks, Uncle Clint here as always, but this time, my usually cheerful demeanor has drooped a bit. My happy-go-lucky charm is taking a breather in the back room, letting my righteous indignation display itself for a few minutes on the main stage. That’s right folks, the soapbox you all remember from the …AND GOD SPOKE article has once again been pulled out of storage. My dander is up in a big way (although I’m not quite sure what exactly “Dander” is). Now, I am, generally, a tolerant soul. I mean, I’m no Saint Barnabus ( Is there a Saint Barnabus? Not important.) but I consider myself a big proponent of the live-and-let-live philosophy. But when a group of people’s basic human rights are denied to them for no other reason than narrow-minded hatred, well sir… I become Super Clint, Defender of the People. Of course, I have as much power in the court of public opinion as, say, a common badger, but that’s really not the point. The point is that there is a great injustice being laid over our land like so many blankets over napping children and I have had enough!

The injustice… people treating homosexual men and women like second class citizens. Why? What purpose does it serve? What’s to be afraid of? The movie this week, in so many words, asks those questions and a whole hell of a lot more. This week, we turn our eyes toward a little-seen film by the name of DEAR JESSE, a documentary by Tim Kirkman. Kirkman is gay and, as luck (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it) would have it, grew up in the town that lives largely in the shadow of the most hate-filled, rancorous, bile-spewing senator of all time, Jesse Helms. I’m telling you folks, this guy is a thin mustache away from being the Snidely Whiplash of the U.S. Senate. Year after year, he has vomited up his hatred for everything not rich and white on to the floor, and year after the citizens of North Carolina have voted him back, much the same way you still invite the child molester in the family over for Thanksgiving dinner, not because you want to, but because you feel you have no other choices (my secretary will be handling all lawsuits, thank you). Anyways, Kirkman has structured this film as a letter of sorts to Senator Helms, a tribute to the man that shows in him what I’m sure Helms would call a “positive and morally-correct” light. He would smile and nod as Kirkman talks to the mother of a boy who died of AIDS. A mother to who Helms sent a letter telling her that her dead son was burning in hell because he was gay (Sadly, I’m not exaggerating). He would beam like a proud father at the clips of himself giving lectures on the evils of “homosessualitee,” a word he spits out like it was a killer bee that had flown into his mouth. It would be as if he was watching a highlights reel of himself after quarterbacking the Super Bowl. He actually thinks he’s right. And what’s worse, a sad amount of America agrees with him. They defend him, talking about how Helms cares about the “American family” and how he “Only wants what’s best for the country.” Newsflash… HATE IS NOT GOOD FOR THE COUNTRY!!! Never has been, never will be.

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