Out of the Closet, Er, Barn

VUE: Why have you decided to tell the truth about your personal life?

JARON: Because of Ellen DeGeneres. It took courage for her to admit who she really is.

VUE: So you’re coming out of the closet, too?

JARON: I don’t like the word closet.

VUE: What word would you prefer?

JARON: Barn.

VUE: You’re coming out of the barn?

JARON: That’s correct. I’ve been living a double life. It began when I was young and looked through a crack in the barn boards. That’s when I saw Honey.

VUE: Who was Honey?

JARON: A four-year-old sheep. She never lied. She never nagged. She was always there for me, completely nonjudgmental. Our first meeting became affection, and I was lost.

VUE: You’re talking about something unnatural.

JARON: That’s the kind of cruel language society uses when it wants to make people feel ashamed. If I said I loved my dog, you’d be shocked. But if I called it puppy love, suddenly it sounds adorable.

VUE: What you’re describing is deplorable.

JARON: Only because you’re trapped in conventional thinking. The old rules were written for a different time. Back then, people worried about multiplying. Today, the planet is already standing room only.

VUE: You seem to be comparing your barnyard confession with serious civil rights issues.

JARON: That’s a cheap shot. I would never tell anyone else how to live. If someone finds happiness in a barn, a bungalow, or a split-level ranch with a finished basement, that’s their business. Live and let bleat.

VUE: How does your family feel about your coming out of the barn?

JARON: At first it was difficult for Mother. But I’m confident she’ll support me.

VUE: How do you know?

JARON: She replaced the guest-room bed with hay.

VUE: What about your wife?

JARON: When she reads this, she’ll discover what she has long suspected.

VUE: She had suspicions?

JARON: On our honeymoon, I asked her to dress up as Little Bo Peep.

VUE: Anything else?

JARON: She wondered why I kept buying sheepskin pajamas. But I love my wife. I want to remain with her.

VUE: Some of your friends say you tried to pull the wool over her eyes.

JARON: Former friends. Very cruel people.

VUE: Would you consider therapy?

JARON: Certainly. I think it could help all three of us.

VUE: Your wife and your mother?

JARON: No. My wife and the sheep.

VUE: Surely you don’t expect people to accept this.

JARON: There you go again, imposing your values on others. For me, this is normal. You’re more judgmental than Jerry Falwell at a wool auction.

VUE: You can’t be serious.

JARON: Think about it. There are millions of lonely people in this country. And millions of lonely sheep. Yet society insists they remain strangers separated only by prejudice and fencing.

VUE: We are becoming more disturbed by the moment.

JARON: Why? What consenting adults do behind closed barn doors is their business.

VUE: You’re suggesting Honey was a consenting adult?

JARON: In human years, she was at least thirty.

VUE: You’re a menace to the community.

JARON: That’s what people always say when they’re frightened by progress.

VUE: What if people like you ended up teaching in schools?

JARON: Some of us are teachers. Some of us are in administration. A few may already be in charge of the yearbook.

VUE: You will corrupt children.

JARON: Another fallacy. If anything, we teach children to respect animals. We would never impose our views on them. We’re no more a threat to kids than straight teachers, gay teachers, or substitute teachers with laminated lesson plans.

VUE: You should be arrested.

JARON: Many animal lovers are. And do you know how society punishes them? They’re considered low-risk inmates and sent to work farms. Then they get to look after sheep. Isn’t that ironic?

Editor’s Note: We attempted to ask several more pointed questions, but Mr. Summers excused himself, claiming he had a previous engagement. Several reporters later saw him leave the office and climb into a livestock truck.