They say blogs are best when fresh and new, relevant and timely. I haven't posted in a while for a couple of reasons. The first is that not much worth posting has floated my way. The second is that I don't have much time. And then today comes around, and I'm given the gift of time and a story.
It's Derby Day, beloved by the uber-wealthy, horse freaks (sorry friend), and junkies in casinos. It's the sport of kings, after all. But I'm more of a serf, and it's just not relevant. Sure, I'll watch it, but I'm that guy hoping for tragedy. You see, I was sad when Barbaro died at the beginning of last year. I was sad because the news stories of a horse receiving flowers and candy and get well cards would come to an end. I was sad because people could no longer project ridiculous, contrived "love" for animals they don't own or know above the love they don't feel for random people who invariably get hurt much more often, and aren't wealthy enough to have doctors pour over them every minute of every day so that hopefully, some day, they'll live out their lives in a grassy pasture having sex with all the pretty girl horses. And don't think my contention ends with horse people. Generally speaking, I think that the least of humans is still higher and more worthy of life than the best of animals. So when you croon at the "whittle pwuppy" and I don't respond in kind, don't be surprised.
Today's big race was surly a great to-do for rich trophy wives in big hats and horse trainers who were once so down-and-out that they were sleeping in horse stalls and those two Cuban guys who defected and toiled day and night to survive meagerly and - oh - spend $35,000 on a horse. Wow, talk about a heart-warming story. I could have just cried for them, I was so happy. But for the rest of us, I assume we'll pay a small amount of attention to the Preakness to see if Big Brown (boring horse name, by the way) can continue his improbable bid for the elusive Triple Crown. If he does, great. If not, well, I'll probably have forgotten his name anyway.
And let's not forget the harrowing plight of Eight Belles, the filly who could. She gave it her all, literally. After breaking both ankles after completing the race, she collapsed and was euthanized. Sounds like she was juicing - that's a pretty ticky-tack injury for an animal that should be in phenomenal shape. I really hope - for her owner's sake, because this was probably their last chance at feeding their family - that an ankle injury doesn't devalue her at the glue factory. But I guess that's just one more reason not to buy a horse.
This one's an oldie but a goody, from my post-Barbaro post on my old blog.
