Limousines and mini-nags.
When a limousine customer tells you that they’ll be “the easiest folks you’ve ever had in the car” or that if I “stick with us, you’ll have a great time, we can have a party” they’re lying.
The opposite is always true:
In Case # 1 they will be the most demanding arseholes you’ve ever met. The limousine will end up being a pigsty, they’ll use every glass, break a few, leave footprints on the ceiling and barf in the champagne bucket.
In Case # 2 they will be self-important know-nothings, lording it over all and sundry demanding that their chauffeur be a mind reader, all the while calling him “Wimbot” and demonstrating their world knowledge comes from the National Enquirer.
It was a bunch of #2 people on Saturday. Off we went on a jaunt to a town where a Miniature Horse auction was the star turn. These folks owned a few dozen of these critters, having been awarded a top ten prize for one of them.
Nineteen hours. That’s how long I was with these supposedly yippee! party people, twelve of which were spent watching endless variations of the same thirty-inch-tall chaff-muncher being paraded around. The auctioneers had never seen such “purrty fullees” nor “manly-luuking stally-ons” in their en-tire born days, which made me wonder, because an awful lot of these prize lots were passed in at a high bid of $200.
Attempting some show of interest, I asked what one used a miniature horse for. To show, came the answer. Oh, in that case who is buying here today? Showers and breeders. I see, so the organization that awards prizes is…run by breeders to make sure there’s a market for their product.
So these animals serve no purpose whatsover other than to expand the ego of the owner when they are judged as better than a few others, and provide money for the breeders.
I didn’t say it, but that’s the gist of things.
After spending a few thousand on new midget-nags, and showing off their limousine, they went for dinner at Subway and dancing at some gay bar. I declined the invitation to go with.
A day standing in horseshit contemplating miniature horses is plenty of time to reflect on one’s life, and note the metaphors all around.