"Hello, I would like to purchase a high horse"
From thoroughbreds to field nags - express your rage from on high with a savvy purchase.
Don’t like to read? I’ll read it to you here 👈
[DIAL TONE. SOUND OF NUMBERS BEING PRESSED, FOLLOWED BY PHONE RINGING]
“Hello?”
“Oh, yes, hello. Hi. I’m calling about the high horse advertised in today’s Rage Rag classifieds. Is it still available?”
“Which high horse? The piebald or the bay?”
“Er… Whichever one is higher. What can you tell me about it?”
“Well, the bay is the higher of the two. It stands 24 hands high, and if you know anything about hands—which you should because they’ve been in the news quite recently1—that makes it a bonafide monster. I’m talking Guinness World Record-breaking height.”
“Wow!”
“Exactly. Now let me tell you this. You’d be hard-pressed to find any higher horses on the eastern seaboard, the western seaboard, or any board you care to mention. Not likely, no siree. None can compare to the quality and lineage of my high horse heights. We’re the best at giant gee-gees here. Seriously, when you’re on this thing, you’ll be sooooo, sooooo high, the people beneath you will be as ants. Small ants who are themselves looking at microscopic images of ants. But before we go on, I should tell you that we do like to screen prospective buyers. Do you have much experience with high horses?”
“Ah, no. To be honest, I’ve been focusing most of my attention on the Hot Take space, you know, building my brand there. But what with everything that’s going on and the new stuff happening every day that is missing my voice, I’m looking to expand my brand into the High Horse Outrage Arena.”
“Oh, these are arena animals for sure! Divine Whine Equine, as I like to joke with my wife. We deal mostly with the center ring High Horse dancers, the dressage pompenstancers, and focus primarily on providing that non-stop, top-notch, frou-frou, unfounded indignation kinda quality to all our clients.”
“Excellent! That sounds great! Now, sorry if this is a noob question, but tell me, what do high horses eat exactly? Snowflakes? Boomers? Hollywood? Jeff Bezos? Any particular global brands? Do I have to feed it, or….”
“Let me just interrupt you there. Honestly, if you’re trotting about in all the right spaces, it’ll find plenty to eat. This horse has already been fed all the classics chaff, so instinctively knows how to stick a hoof in anywhere. It’s purebred. Did I mention that? Proficient in all the outrages. Moral, social, ethical, emotional, dietary…
“Dietary?”
“You know, for towering views on veganism, intermittent fasting, autophagy, carnivore diet, GOOP, and the like? But just between me and you, I’ll let you in on a little secret: this particular high horse excels at purity outrage. Are you up on that? Don’t worry, you don’t need to be. Once you’re up on this high horse NO ONE will be purer than you, I guarantee it.”
“You bring up a good point. How does one actually get onto a high horse?”
“SO EASY! First, you will hear the sound of a low rumbling thunder in the distance when you encounter the latest transgression of your victim (or victims). The air will suddenly smell vaguely of cinnamon—no one knows why—then all the hairs on the back of your neck will stand to attention and salute the invisible shaman. Your forehead will prickle, your fingers will flex, and your shoulders ripple like the San Andreas fault on a Sunday. An anticipatory tremor of sorts.
“You will then realize that it’s not the sound of thunder at all, but the rumble of hooves approaching. A fox will yip, a whistle will be blown, and a signal flashed. There’ll be some cursory Googling at an unverified site, and then POOF! Before you know it, you’ll be on a horse. It all happens by degrees—namely, your lack of them. That’s a little High Horse trader inside joke. Don’t mind me.
“All jokes aside, there’s really no mystery or skill to it, and I just made all that up. Getting on a high horse is one of the easiest things in the world. Resisting the mount up is actually more difficult. But don’t worry: If you’re ever having trouble getting on your HH, or succumbing to the better angels of your nature that shut your pie hole before you reach the stirrups, well, we have a High Horse Mounting Step you can purchase. And lucky for you, right now, if you buy two high horses—one for your spouse perhaps?—we throw in the step for free.”
“Are they hard to control?”
“Oh, very.”
“Really? Would I ever get bucked off, or kicked by it?”
“For sure. That’s the charm. Predictably unpredictable in their unpredictable predictability!”
“But you get used to it, right?"
“Shhhsure.”
“Are some high horses better than others? Like, I dunno, superior? Heightier? Is that a word?”
“Well, you know what they say: “It’s not the height of the horse, it’s how high the horse!”
“Huh?”
“Another inside joke. High vs. high. A little horse flesh humor.”
“Wait, are you saying these horses are on the spruce juice?”
“No, ma’am. You have completely misinterpreted what I was saying! Excellent! You are well on your way to being high horse ready! But let me ease your mind. We go OUT OF OUR WAY to NOT use growth hormones here. Literally, no growth is possible when you are seated upon this horse. That’s written in our provenance papers and also our guarantee to you.”
“Excellent. And what about a name? Does it have a name?”
“No. Might I suggest Allan?”
“Erm, OK? Oh, I know what I wanted to ask. Does this one talk at all?”
“I didn’t say call him Mister Ed, now, did I?”
“I don’t get it. Who is Mister Ed?”
“You know, the talking horse from the ‘60s? Fun fact: That horse’s actual name was Bamboo Harvester.”
“The ‘60s? I wasn’t born then.”
“Whatever. They used to put peanut butter on his gums to make his lips move so it looked like he was talking for the cameras, and…”
“They did WHAT!?”
“Ha! Sike! That’s an urban legend. I was just checking your temper temp and I’m happy to report that got a strong spike reaction from you. Very off the cuff. My outrage detector just blipped a little, so that’s another positive check on your ‘ready to own a high horse’ checklist!”
“Awesome! I’ll take it.”
“Take what?”
“The high horse.”
“It’s not available.”
“What? Oh, that’s a bummer. OK. Thanks. Maybe you could recom.…”
“Haha! Gotcha again!”
“Pardon?”
“That was another test and you failed to clear the barrier. If you were ready for high horse ownership, you would’ve instantly mounted up and expressed your indignant outrage at my false advertising. But here you are. You haven’t even whipped out a riding crop to beat on Yelp yet. I see no inclination to hitch up a Nextdoor posting right under the pinned “What was that bang?” post. Seriously, ‘OK, thanks?’ What is that? I dunno, but I can tell you straight up that it’s not the reply of a high horse jockey with a fresh set of outrage jodhpurs on.”
“Now hang on a minute...”
“I’m just gonna level with you. It sounds like you should stick to Hot Takes—opinions no one asked for, that sort of thing. I can recommend a “My Two Cents” group if you’d like? Maybe start there and use that as a stepping stone to high horse ownership, because you’re just not ready. Start smaller—that’s my recommendation. Throw in a few “yes buts” and some “whatabout”-isms to any local social dialog you’re privy to. Work up to the commentary nags with some simple, identity-based outrage. Get my drift?”
“But…”
“I know a guy who sells oars.”
“Oars?”
“For sticking your oar in. That’s quite popular in the social transgression commentary fields. Lots of space to get in on the ground floor there.”
“[SIGH] OK. I’ll think about it.”
“Oh well, that seals it. That’s the final nail right there. Think?! You should never think about it. Thinking is blinking and they should never see you blink.”
“React, don’t retract?”
“Exactly.”
[pause]
“Before you go…. Any interest in some eye-level outrage? I’ve got the inside line on some Sanctimonious Pony action, and I can….”
[CLICK]
Yours in tiny thought,
Janeen
This week’s amends…
“You got to get up and you got to sleep, and the time in between there you got to do something.”- Bob Dylan, upon being asked if he’d earned enough money to have the freedom to do exactly what he wants.
From the Bob Dylan: The Essential Interviews, a book I dip in and out of a couple of times a year. I wonder if I’ll ever finish it? Interview by Joseph Hass, Chicago Daily News 1965
On Rotation: “Running Up that Hill” by Placebo
I’m calling this my cover of the week.
This is absolutely mind-blowing. One piece of paper. Two dueling knights. The planning that went into this masterpiece—yes, I’m calling it that—by the creator, Juho Könkkölä, shows what art this is. The video is almost one hour long, and while I watched the first five minutes—the amount of pre-folding just never occurred to me—I skipped around in it. The Colossal has some great close-up photos to go with the one below. 100+ hours to complete and two years of planning. Whoa!
Via Colossal
Encouragement is everything. Support your friends.
Via Neatorama
Did any of this spark a tiny thought of your own?
I’m not linking to it.
Damn this is good. Well done.