Pictures don’t lie
Nov 05 2007
In follow up to yesterday’s post, just some pictures posted by Tom’s brother’s wife on flickr of the laughing horse horses…about a month ago.
(sarcasm on)
Look at those WILD, KILLER MUSTANGS. Wow, I can totally see how you can’t catch them and get them gelded. They are just terrified of people! It would be dangerous to even go in there with them.
(sarcasm off)
Doesn’t everybody have an emaciated, pregnant broodmare in their backyard? What, you mean that’s not normal?
I really don’t need to say much. These pictures speak for themselves. You’ll notice our buddy Tom has not come up with any kind of defense or explanation to any of this. Just lots of name-calling and threats.
OK, next post will be something happy again, but I wanted to save these before they disappear – as I am sure they will!
103 comments to “Pictures don’t lie”
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tfw –
it’s quietann at gmail dot com
I’ll be interested to see what you come up with. I also know there’s a Morgan breeder somewhere near my in-laws’ place in northern Vermont, so I’ll see if I can visit there…
ann,
They must be popular here, too. All the ponies I saw aren’t on there anymore. Oh well, really don’t need another project. Cute little buggers they were (actually, the “hunter ponies” were bigger than my “cow ponies”)…
Farmer,
Ummm, go ahead with the alpacas – I’ll be the one in the white gown, yeah, sure, that’s it.
Trust me – I’m from the government…
Okay Shovels, here’s the deal: Since Ann has bravely put her personal email out there, you email her with yours, and she can send it to me, and then maybe you can help me get in touch with Chipgirl.
Now in OKC at Morgan Nationals when I met up with Beautiful-Morgan and just missed JstPam in our Hallowe’en masks, maybe we can wear our masks with our fancy duds and really get the neighbors talking. In truth, I’ve discovered than when I dissect (not LITERALLY ladies and gents) equitation riders between saddleseat, western, and hunt seat, I see more similarities than differences. Oh the stirrup length varies, the inclination of the torso, the height of the hands, but a good rider’s a good rider for all that.
Now remember I’ve never claimed to be a good rider. I am a pretty fair driver. I hope both Chip’s pleasure horse and your, dear Shovel’s, cuttin’ horse, are gentle beasts who will take kindly to a hot headed fancier, and I can’t wait to see you in that white formal gown….