I am fascinated by popular culture: the fact that so many nice, otherwise-intelligent people have (or make) the time to follow “reality” shows (which have nothing to do with reality, at all), and to give a tiny rat’s patootie about the comings and goings of famous people (who wouldn’t be famous, were it not that they were willing to eat live scorpions)–blows my mind.
The fact that the majority of these “celebrities” are famous for doing nothing whatsoever; being vulgar or willing to participate in marginal activies or show the world that they are a trollop or a felon–fascinates me even more. Americans pour billions of dollars into the pockets of people whom they know not, and who, by-and-large, are illiterate “authors”–famous for being famous…
The fact that someone named, “Snookie” (sp?) was on the New York Times’ Best-Sellers’ List at all gives me yet-one-more reason to hate the Times. (Their current, obvious, funded-by-somebody campaign against horse racing being the other reason. Lousy, agenda journalism has plunged the aforementioned newspaper to the depths of the common tabloid. At least tabs have the guts to admit that they’re just amusing bird cage lining, no claim to being serious journalism, or, God forbid–a trusted authority.)
I digress, as usual. But you know me, and you’ve come to expect this. Read on, please:
And, unfortunately, this rabid mass love affair with The Great Unwashed has spilled over to the world of horse racing. The celebrities who capture the imagination of most Americans are not–I repeat, not–of the caliber of Cary Grant or Katherine Hepburn. While there are actors and musicians who are creative and yet decent sorts in today’s pop culture–people for whom elegance and style are part of the package–unfortunately the famous folk of whom we hear most often are making news more-often-than-not by giving their babies ridiculous names.
Names that will drive the children straight to a therapist’s couch, the minute said child is old enough to take the bus alone from their Upper West Side enclave. Every time I hear about a celeb naming their children after fruit, flora or felons–I cringe.
My concern is for the child, of course, but also for the society that will take this action as being cool, smart or otherwise something that should be emulated.
And–terror of terrors–I fear that someone reading that paper, or watching ET, will get the idea to give a similarly dumb-ass name to…please, Lord, forbid it…their horse.
Here’s a rule of thumb, one that should be tattooed onto the inside upper lip of every potential horse owner. (Tattooed, just so they can’t forget, and can easily use as reference.):
If you wouldn’t want someone to call YOU by a particular name–please, I beseech Thee–to not give that name to your horse.
There, now, that’s an easy one to remember, isn’t it? If the name is just too utterly ridiculous to give to a living human being–including yourself–then why would you stick your horse with the name?
You DO realize, don’t you, that horses are sentient beings? That they’re intelligent (probably moreso than you, or me). They have feelings, and they most certainly have the capacity to love. They have the full range of emotions that we associate as being “human” — but which are, in fact, emotions that we share with our horses, dogs, cats and other companion animals.
Your horse has feelings, and if you think that s/he doesn’t know that you’ve named her, HoHoHo–thinking that you can get away with being a dirty boy, that the Jockey Club won’t catch it–you’re wrong, on both counts.
Both the horse and the Jockey Club know that you’re not just a freak about Christmas and Santa Claus–you’re just a freak who thinks like a 13-year-old boy, and wants to name his horse after a prostitute.
Your horse probably has at least a decent pedigree, and may be a descendant of some of the greatest, most accomplished runners of all time. Secretariat, Seattle Slew, Man O’War or Dr. Fager may show up in your horse’s line.
Strong, smart names. Names that stink of confidence, strength and authority.
Their owners didn’t think it would be cute to name them BellyButtonLint or ImABigLoser. Why did their owners not give them such inane monikers? Because they loved and respected their horses, and actually thought of a horse race as a great gladiatorial contest, the glory of which goes back thousands of years. That what we do here is of merit, and not just a game for silly people and throw-away animals.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: never will you hear of a horse named I’ll Never Win, winning the Kentucky Derby.
There are some basic rules to naming your horse–other than the 18 letters, spaces and characters allowed by the Jockey Club. And the “no dirty words” rule.
The rules of which I speak seem so obvious, and yet it appears that some folks need to be reminded. There are exceptions to every rule, and we shall enumerate them, as well.
* Cute is OK. There’s a fine line between a cute name and a just-plain stupid name: First Whipporwill is a lovely name, a poetic way to go through Life. Vulture Culture is not. (See how easy it is, to tell the difference?)
* No naming your horse after your favorite beverage, unless that beverage is Bourbon. This may be that the word, “bourbon” is just a good, strong word. It may be the connection to Kentucky, that the name, like the liquid, holds magical properties. But other than that one word–do not name your horse after a drink. Please consider the difference between a name like, Bourbon Street and the ridiculous, Genny Cream Ale.
One of these horses may become a big winner. The other has given up already, because s/he knows that owner has no respect for her/him, whatsoever.
* Do not name your horse for your best friend, if said friend’s nickname was something like, Moron. Colonel John, Lawyer Ron, Dr. Fager–all boasted of strong, smart male names. Bubba, Pervy and Beavis do not count thus.
* Do not try to name your horse for body parts. You know that the Jockey Club is going to catch it–they’re not as stupid as your best friend, who suggested it–and it’s just disrespectful. Again, are we grown up horse racing people here, or 13-year-old boys?
It may be fun to hear Tom Durkin say a fanciful name, but I suspect that the reason he gives it his all when those horses run is that he knows that he won’t be saying those names very often.
Horse with idiotic, disrespectful names rarely become major superstars.
There’s one key question to ask yourself when, in the excitement of acquiring your first horse:
Can I hear this name being called out as the winner of the Triple Crown?
Do you hope that you have a superstar on your hands? Do you want it, really want it–the glory that can come from owning a major rock star horse in this, the most beautiful of sports?
Or are you content just going to the track, cracking open a Bud and bragging that you own a horse–and then delight in telling people the stupid name that “came to you” the last time you watched Snookie (sp?) cursing up a storm and being her charm-school self?
If you are the latter of these two horse owners, I ask you to do one of two things:
a) Please get out of racing. Sell your horse to someone who will shell out the cash to the Jockey Club, and give the horse a proper name. Your ill-named equine won’t win the Kentucky Derby next year or the Woodward this year–but he will be in equine peer therapy for many years. Your puerile attempt to honor your favorite body function isn’t funny to anyone but you.
b) If you want to stay in the game, please study the names of the greatest horses, ever. Now, ask yourself why these horses made it to the pantheon. Yes, they had raw talent, pedigrees that indicated superiority, and great trainers.
They had names, also, that bespoke power, authority and otherworldly strength. They were fighters, warrior horses. Archetypes, and examples to follow. And the horses knew that their owners respected them, and hoped for greatness for them.
If you name your horse I’m a Wimp…DaddySezImStoopid…or MyDingALing…and she’s a biter…really, now, who’s to blame?
Just sayin’.
