Today the Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro got the proverbial bullet in the head. They may not shoot million-dollar horses with broken legs these days, but dead just the same. I find it comical when news outlets refer to Barbaro as if he were an athlete. As if Barbaro went up the ranks though high school and college racing to be drafted by a top professional horse racing team. This is a horse that never asked to race, never wanted to break his legs so we could watch him race, and never told anyone "Please...kill me!" because he was in pain. If this is the case, then maybe Terry Bradshaw should be put down. Anyone that shares my disdain for the Fox crew would give the television a "So long, Terry!" and go grocery shopping.
But Barbaro is not an athlete. Barbaro is part of a long line of "thoroughbred" million-dollar horses (or, investments) bred to race for our amusement. Horse racing, and all other forms of organized animal racing for sport, is laughable. But more than that, disturbing. "Whatever, Wes. Horse racing is long-steeped in tradition dating back thousands of years! That is absurd! Cry Seabiscuit! Cry Secretariat! Surely our fine ancestors didn't whine about the cruely in using animals for amusement!" To that, I say that humans have a longer, rich tradition steeped in absurdities. It is mankind that prides itself in being selfish, fighting wars, and inventing the hot dog.
Innocent traditions can grow old and stale. Things that once seemed reasonable become hazy. Then it becomes clear, and the resolute see them for what they are. What does it say about us that we organize horse races for money? After all, it isn't the spirit and determination of the horse that wins the race, but which horse has the best genetics. The horses don't even race on their own, they need pseudo midgets to slap them on the ass and tell them where to go. That is not sport. It is mint juleps and fancy hats.
The Kentucky Derby is now being called "The Kentucky Derby presented by Yum! Brands". We can rest easy knowing that Barbaro died so people could be reminded of the nutrition and tastiness of KFC and Taco Bell. Maybe Barbaro should have chosen a simple life, instead of sports superstardom and big endorsement deals. A fulfilled life of eating grass on some sunny, breezy countryside.
Read some Kentucky Derby madness. Read Hunter S. Thompson's "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved".
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