An Open Letter To Ann Romney
Like much of 51% of America that didn’t vote for your husband, I made fun of the fact that you had a fancy-ass dressage horse. To me you seemed like the most exquisite personification of the phrase “Let them eat cake” that summed-up my contempt for the idle rich 1% in America. Then last Monday night something occurred to me. I was sitting on the back of a beautiful Saddlebred named ‘Pudge.’
I was attempting to learn how to precisely control my horses’ speed. You know, the whole “walking trot > posting trot > walking trot > posting trot > extended trot > walking trot > reverse on the diagonal > repeat” exercise. My instructor was an equestrian champion with more ribbons that General Patton and the daughter of the owner of the stable where I take lessons. It’s a stable where people learn how to ride … dressage. Dammit. I’m learning dressage. Yes, I’m the only dude in any of my classes. I’m totally OK with that. The fact that it’s really, really fun completely makes up for the stink-eye I get from husbands and fathers when they see a guy taking lessons. But I digress.
I’m sorry for being such a hypocrite. There is no need to be ashamed of having enough money to afford a nice dressage horse. I’d love to own one myself. With all your wealth, you could have chose many, many worse ways to spend your money. You could’ve bought a mega-yacht powered by the tears of slave children or a blood-diamond bedazzled Buggati. Hmmm. Now that I think about it, that would be kind of cool. Nevermind.
In summary, I think horses are cool and people who like horses are cool. Well, there are quite a few bad guys on horses in the movies so I probably shouldn’t make a blanket statement like that about horse owners just yet. But that’s a conversation for another day. I hope you keep enjoying your horse time. Just don’t let Mitt put your horse on top of the car if you’re going on a cross-country road trip. Kidding.