Commentary
A horse is a horse, of course, of course
By Mark W. Mayfield
My wife and I are engaged in an ongoing domestic debate concerning the irrelevance of horses in these modern times. I say that horses are useless antique manure factories that will have no place in the Brave New World of the next millennium. My wife, who has two useless antique manure factories of her own, says that horses are incredibly intelligent creatures who, if blessed with the gift of speech, could eliminate the risk of global conflict, discover a cure for the common cold, solve that pesky Y2K computer problem and wage a successful bid for the U.S. presidency.
I say that a certain horse named Mr. Ed was blessed with the gift of speech, but he was still a lazy, unemployed slacker who survived by mooching off a dim-witted human. She says that Mr. Ed was just a dumb TV show.
I say that horses are rapidly depleting the earth's dwindling supply of livestock food, which should be reserved for essential farm animals--i.e., those that contain or produce ingredients for pizza, poultry nuggets, curly fries, cheeseburgers, diet soft drinks, bacon, corn dogs, tacos, cookie dough, footballs and auto upholstery. She says that I'm rapidly depleting her dwindling supply of wifely patience.
I say that any creature that casually poops without embarrassment or remorse has the intellectual potential of ketchup. She says that indiscriminate pooping is a normal, natural, instinctive activity that replenishes the earth with vital nutrients.
I say that I'll remind her of that statement whenever one of our cats does a normal, natural, instinctive activity in her flower beds. She says that such a juvenile comment proves that I'm full of a normal, natural, instinctive activity. I say that sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me. She says that I'm an immature, insensitive, ignorant horse hater.
I say that I'm not insensitive. She says that I should be mowing the lawn instead of whining about horses. I say that while she's preoccupied with my mowing schedule, her flower beds are being inundated by a large number of normal, natural, instinctive activities. She says that it's a waste of time to argue with a 40-year-old man who keeps abreast of current events by watching the Cartoon Channel.
I say that I really don't care what she thinks about my watching the Cartoon Channel, and besides, she uses too much butter when she cooks. She says, "I hope you enjoy spending the night on the sofa." I say, "Can't we discuss this like adults, sweetums?"
Unfortunately, my wife was destined to be a horse lover. She was born and raised in a rural area where hard-working, agriculturally minded folks have an inherent fondness for large animals with indiscriminate pooping habits.
The facts, however, are undeniable. We don't need horses for transportation because cars travel faster, carry more luggage, have better radios and usually include handy built-in cup-holders.
We don't need horses for battle because they're easily disabled by grenades, cruise missiles, laser-guided bombs and other high-tech weapons of modern warfare. We don't even need horses for farming because tractors do a much better job, and they don't stop to poop on the crops.
Of course, completely outlawing a species is out of the question, but I do believe that our government should enact tough new legislation to strictly limit the production of new horses and closely regulate the use of existing ones. Horses for recreational purposes would be allowed only at remote mountainous locations, where consenting adults over the age of 21 could satisfy their occasional urges to interact with stinky, incontinent livestock. (Certain well-mannered horses would still be permitted to appear in rodeos, parades, races and those heartwarming holiday beer commercials.)
Furthermore, this legislation would ban horses from schools, churches, malls, theaters, video arcades, the Internet and any other place where they could develop unproductive relationships with America's innocent children.
After all, our nation can't afford to allow its future leaders to waste time with animals that can't even catch a Frisbee.
Mark W. Mayfield (itsmark@sirius.com) is a freelance writer. He hopes his wife's horses don't read this article.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
