I brushed a tear from the Twisty eye when I read this, The Rev. Lt. BDL’s latest. Because now I’ve got that fucking song “Wildfire” stuck in my head. Thanks, good buddy! I hope to infect you with 70’s novelty hit “Convoy” someday. Ten four.
A perfect opportunity to speculate on your death, sing an earworm song twined in the DNA of anyone raised West of the Miss, embroider the scantily known facts of the situation, and triumphantly work out my horse envy:
“She comes down from Yellow Austin
On a dark, flat land she rides
On a pony she named Stanley
With a whirlwind by her side
On a hot Texas nightOh, they say she died one summer
When there came a killing rain
And the pony she named Stanley
Busted down its stall
In a shopping mall he was lostChorus:
She ran calling Stan-ley
She ran calling Stan-ley
She ran calling Sta-a-a-a-a-an-leyBy the dark of the moon - I blamed
But there came an early rain
There`s been a garbage truck growling by my window now
For six nights in a row
She`s coming for me I know
And on Stanley we`re both gonna goWe`ll be riding Stanley
We`ll be riding Stanley
We`ll be riding Sta-a-a-a-a-an-leyOn Stanley we`re gonna ride
Gonna leave ballbustin` behind
Get these hard times right on out of our minds
Riding Stanley!”
Not only was Childe Claw obsessed with that song, but now the evermore irritation of garbage trucks’ clamor will have a new, magical, blame-fueling connotation. STANLEY! FOR VICTORY!
As a relatively new horseowner, I am interested in your comments about how horse society is a female separatist cult, nearly.
I am bonkers over my new Friesian yearling. Bonkers.
Well thanks, now it’s in my head too.
Convoy? Cowgirl, please. My childhood in West Hippietown innoculated me against that; I barely know the words.
You’d have better luck dredging up something unpleasant from the catalog of AC/DC, Journey or maybe Bread.
Hey Tarr, watch out for that fungus crap that grows in Friesian fetlocks.
The horse world is a female separatist cult, all righty, but sadly is not conscious of itself as a feminist entity. For example, a large horse who is considered well-broke or “bombproof” may also be described as a “husband horse,” illustrating the general perception in the community that although husbands are not proficient horsemen they are still entitled to ride because, after all, they pay the bills.
There is a husband out at Stanley’s barn, for example, married to a woman with two horses who has been competing nationally and winning everything for 20 years. He can’t ride a lick, but his wife feels obligated to put him up on her old arthritic gelding, who he races around the arena for 20 minutes and then puts up hot. It will surprise noone to learn that this horse-abusing asshole also beats his wife, but she won’t leave him because she can’t afford her horses’ board on her own.
Thanks; now I’ll be humming this all day. I was considering retaliating with “Horse With No Name,” but decided that would be too cruel.
Except you just did, Vera, because now that’s in my head. I hate you all.
This is the most hilarious thing I’ve read all week - and I’m now humming “staaaaaaaaaaaanley”
I admire the hell out of anyone who can adapt a song’s lyrics to their own nefarious purposes! I possess very little poetry, alas.
Oh Dog, I love BDL.
1. Wildfire - West of the Mississip hell. I’m from MICHIGAN and that song is tattooed on my left frontal lobe.
2. I too was innoculated against Convoy by my hippie parentage.
3. Goddamn the mofo who put that stupid horse with no name song into my head.
**warning**danger**thehorrorthatisStyx**
Styx “Aaaaangel……..of the mooooooooorning” is also evil & persistent; I highly recommend it for vengeance purposes. I had to cut off my own head last summer to get rid of it. The good news: the cure is permanant.
Ten-roger, Twisty. We’ve got a successful song infection on our hands. My 20’s up in rural Oklahoma, so I was not immunized against trucker tracks. It’s gonna be next week before I can get it out of my head. Now, I gotta get going; Smokey’s on my tail. That’s a 10-10, I’m out.
About the horse world being female separatists: Down my street (I live on the outskirts of town, last house west of 183 with Austin city services) there’s a thriving colony of black men with horses. They trot by in front of my house with some frequency. There’s a couple of women involved on the periphery now & then but basically it’s guys.
There’s a big ol corral ringed with trailers & lean-tos where they hang out, and my theory is that they “go see to the horses” mainly to drink beer with the other guys in the company of said horses. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; the company of horses is generally pretty damned good company, even if they never buy a round.
So: the horse world. Separated by sex AND race.
Have the awesome powers of BDL ever translated into a blog?
The other thing is that serious horse people (FHOTD seems to be an exception) seem to be to the right of Ghengis Khan. THere’s one I like to read because really, she writes beautifully about horses and nature - but she writes some really ugly stuff when she veers into politics. Says the only reason she doesn’t want to vote for McCain is that he’s not far right enough for her!