Yes it’s me, Barbaro, coming to you from the great stable in the sky. I didn’t want to take time out of my eternal schedule of eating oats, grazing on a never ending plain of Kentucky Bluegrass, and letting flies walk over my huge eyeballs without nary a care, but I need to get something off of my horse chest.

10 years ago I won the Kentucky Derby. One year late I died. I had a bad wheel, typically doesn’t go to well for us horses, as we prefer to have four functional legs. But what are you doing to do? I had a nice run and you know the risks when you get into the racing game. The dizzying highs, the terrifying lows…perhaps I trotted too close to the sun on hooves of sugar cubes, I don’t know. I’m a horse, and a dead one at that, what do I know about metaphors?

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