Fractured Fallacies of a Finagling Fact Finder and Obfuscating Humorist

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A Woman's Guide To The Universe, Things People Say With a Straight Face

Zen And The Art Of The Equestrian Alphabet

Most of my friends are people I’ve known for half my life. Only one of them knows the equestrian alphabet.

He had a horse, Dagan, who stood 17 hands high, which is a big horse, and this horse was very good at dressage. the equestrian alphabet on

I’d emailed him asking him to send me a picture of the blue ribbons he’d won for dressage.

Dressage is the kind of riding where the rider wears a tuxedo, dates Audrey Hepburn, and whose horse knows calculus. If his horse doesn’t come up with the formula for fission and saves the world, he and his rider lose the competition.

Zen and the equestrian alphabet on

(I have no idea if there is a formula for fission, but a horse will know, I’m sure of it.)

I was his caller. As his caller, I got to stand at the side of a riding ring which has letters painted all around the inside of it. A horse and rider go round and round inside this ring, while the horse steps real high as if afraid of stepping in poop.

Occasionally, he’ll hop over a little pile of it, but real gracefully, while the caller calls out different letters. The horse listens real closely, and then heads to the corresponding letter in the ring, like he and the rider are playing a life size game of chess in a Mel Brook’s movie.

My friend gave me a little card that said I was an Official Caller.

I know this card is official, because it has an official seal and it says ‘Official’ right on it. It confers the right to stand at the side of any riding ring in the world, besides being required to attend international summit meetings to discuss the dismantling of nuclear warheads.

zen and the equesrtrian alpha bet on

After the horse prances over in different patterns to all the letters, the judges decide whether he really knows his alphabet or not.

My friend won all sorts of ribbons for this, as if he was the one who was doing all the work.

They both looked really pretty doing dressage, my friend wearing a cool black and white outfit and little bowler hat, and the horse all dolled up with a braided mane that must have taken him hours to do in his stall.

The whole thing may have been a contest to see who had the best braided mane.

My friends are a diverse group, and are not composed of people that I think of as susceptible to the changing winds of trends, fashions, or even my opinions. That’s why I’ve always felt free to express as many as possible.

That isn’t true; I’d express my opinion even if I thought someone may take it seriously. Opinions are like ears, everyone has at least two. And I cleaned up that quote from my equestrian friend.

After I’d asked for a picture of his blue ribbons, he responded telling me he’d thrown out all his blue ribbons years ago after I told him he should add up what each one cost him in terms of board, mane braiding, outfits, accessories, feed, lessons, fees, and bribing people who judge horses on their knowledge of the alphabet.

the equestrian alphabet on

I was disappointed the ribbons were gone; mostly on my own account. I was going to put them on my blog, to see if it would fool anyone into thinking I had won them for my posts and my own extensive knowledge of the alphabet.

Now, people will just have to decide without visual aids whether I know it or not. If I am ever unsure myself, I can go out drinking, and then drive home.

When a cop pulls me over, he’ll ask me to recite the alphabet. If I don’t know it, he’ll put me in jail, and give me dry food and water.

Which is exactly what they do to the poor horses who don’t know their ABC’s.

They are led back to their tiny cells, a hood over their eyes so they can’t identify their captors, and given dry food and water.

After a few days of this, they’re ready to learn their ABCs.

Now that I know my opinions count for something amongst my friends, I may be more careful about the ones I express, but I doubt it.

It is clear to me that I hold the key to changing the world, and I will start sending letters to the White House. The occupants are supposed to be interested in voters’ opinions.

I’d always thought this was a fallacy, but if they are going to listen to some guy who doesn’t even speak English, its possible they’ll listen to me.

The lesson here is that you should always be careful about how much salt you add to a recipe. If you don’t like that lesson, you can take whatever lesson you want from this little story.

It makes no difference to me; I’ll still recite the alphabet at the drop of a hat.

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  1. Remarkable braid pattern. Think how patient (and talented) that horse had to be. And when it gets all tangled and full of hay, it has to be undone. Lets hope he/she has an equally patient and talented stall neighbor to help.

    • gigi wolf

      Aren’t they gorgeous? Carl told me what the braiders charge for that. It takes hours, and costs a lot.

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