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Protect The Horse. Kill The Baby.



Look! The Poor horse is in d... dan... danger!!

Look! The poor horse is in d… dan… danger!!



Yesterday was the day of the Palio di Siena again. There are two of them every year (2 July and 16 August), though the 2 July one is the most ancient. There is at least another such event, though by far less famous, in Ferrara.There might be, I suspect, several other ones on a local scale. 

In the last years, the controversies about the horses have become more and more vocal. If I remember correctly, the EU has now ordered the horses cannot be drugged anymore (a pity, say I; it’ a no-holds-barred race, not a girls’ cake competition; the jockeys can whip each other, but the horses can’t be drugged? Really?), but the “animal rights” activists also criticise the terrain, because a horse has a human right to only race on a perfect surface lest he should harm itself; and we all know when they were employed in battle the battlefield was always accurately paved beforehand, and the holes levelled, and the stones taken away, lest the poor beasts suffer damage…

It is with a very sad amusement that one notices that a country (and a European Union) who consider utterly normal to kill a baby in the womb should get so excited for a couple of horses.

A baby has a soul, and therefore he has more worth than the entire universe. A horse is born, and is destined to die, for human use. The old Christian societies knew this difference very well, and could give to both the baby in the womb and the horse their proper place in the economy of Creation, and make correspondent decision concerning their protection; in case, also deciding that particular occasions would allow for particular treatment of the horses.

The new de-Christianised societies cannot understand the value of a soul, and do not care for a baby in the womb whom they cannot see; but they like horses and other animals, and humanise them accordingly. Which would make sense, because if there is no God and no soul, a horse should have the same worth as a baby. But it still doesn;t, because it is clear a horse is, for many people, actually worth a lot more. A country killing more than 100,000 babies a year will, therefore, have a lot of people calling for a ban on the Palio di Siena and similar competitions.I am sure they deem themselves such good souls people.

We live in a stupid world populated by morons who deem themselves smart because their phones can do a lot of things. Thinking, on the other hand, can neither of them.


The Dykes, The Dog And The Judge

Poor chap.

The pet of two dykes. What a dog’s life…

In a country – or a planet – that becomes more and more mired in its own stupid chase for easy emotions, a new low seems to have been reached with the New York judge (apparently a man; can’t imagine he is straight, though) deciding that in the “divorce” cause between two dykes (I’d love to see the photos of these beauties) the dog must be considered as if he were a baby; because you see, the dog does not belong to (duh) the owner of the dog, but must go to the dyke who can show that she provided to the “emotional needs” of the dog in the best way according to… the judge. In the end – the judge seems to think – dogs can certainly not be bought and sold, right? Can’t wait for the canine Wilberforce troops declaring pet shop owners slave masters and outright bastards.

The article has other funny points: the dog is now two years old but was bought when it was 10 weeks old; this shaves two and a half months out of the two years. At that point, the dykes were (how oh so romantic) “girlfriends”, and the dog was given as a consolation because one of the two had forced the other to… give away his pet (no, it’s not a grammatical mistake).

In the short space of nineteen and a half months, the dykes managed to get (or so they think) “married”, to divorce, and to bring the canine controversy to the judge.

I am impressed. These dykes are able of very stable relationships. Those with their dog, for example.

Cue one of the dykes coming all new age / hindu to us by stating about the dog:  “He is my little soul mate, and there was no way in this lifetime I could ever live without him.” In this lifetime. Probably, she wants to reincarnate in a fatter dyke. Or perhaps in a dog.

Not that she is far away from that, mind. Two quarrelling dykes: can you imagine the bitchiness? 


Holier Than Thou

In a welcome bit of entertainment in these hours preceding a historic decision, some funny people have put in scene a micro-manifestation in front of the tailor in charge of the Papal habit (I think he makes three, so do not expect the garment to fit perfectly).

The improvised comedians chanted on the lines of “animals have a spirit too”; which, if I understand correctly, prevents said animals from being used to make fur (note to self: furs to be made only from spiritless material).

It is not reported how good the comedians felt, though I personally do not doubt they felt extremely holy. Unfortunately, the locals seemed to heartily disagree, complaining instead for the noise and disturbance with that typical Italian common sense so good at distinguishing a holy man from an hopeless, self-centred idiot.

I'd love to know how many of the funny guys believe Man has an immortal soul, and how many of those who do believe Man has, but animals haven't. What I do believe is that they are persuaded the Pope has failed to live up to their standards, and Christianity has a 2000 years tradition of “spirit genocide”. How many of them wore leather articles – rather than jute, cotton and wool exclusively) also remains to be seen.

Either way, we had our bit of fun.

I can't wait for the appeal to the Pope to cover the Vatican Gardens with solar panels.


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