Dressage angers me for a number of reasons, which I’m far too pissed off to bother actually forming in to some sort of coherent order. So I won’t even try. I will simply convey the situation as best as I can through the mist of horse based rage.
I’ve never been that keen on horses at all if I’m to be honest. I have nothing against them as such, I just never felt the lure toward them that everyone else seems to have. I’ve never ridden one and I never intend to. I’m aware that this is narrow minded of me, but if I’m going to ride anything, other then a sexual partner, I expect that thing to be utterly controllable and at my behest via the workings of mechanics. I don’t desire that emotion, bonding, chance or any other none predictive variable be involved.
If my death hinders on the fact that my method of transport may decide – for whatever reason – to have an opinion on the situation, then it can fuck right off.
If a horse fails to do what I tell it to do, apparently that can be attributed to it’s mood, and thats just how it goes. This is unacceptable to me. This is not a predictable means of transportation. It seems comparable to going to work on the back of some angst, or at the behest of a whim. Not practical.
However, I totally understand why some people would be interested in riding horses. They are magnificent creatures, I don’t think any rational human could dispute this. And to be at ease with them enough to thunder across a country side, leaping over fences like a steroid fueled hurdle Olympiad is not without it’s appeal. I just know in reality it would end up with me being bucked off at some stage like it was ridding itself of a bacterial infection.
I have the utmost respect for people who have the ability to master these creatures. So it strikes me as more then a little bizarre that having achieved mastery of these animals, your instinct would be to make it ponce about the paddock like someone with learning difficulties trying to master the skipping rope.
It robs the creature of all of it’s considerable ingrained nobility to have it striking poses that infer it is in the clutches of a series of humiliating seizures. It’s as if a nation of Pokemon watching children had somehow manifested itself in the form of an animal competition.
JUST LOOKING AT THIS FUCKING STUPID PICTURE MAKES ME TOO ANGRY TO COME UP WITH A WITTY CAPTION
I struggle with the moral arguments of including any animals in human sports endeavors. The notion of utilizing animals for our entertainment invokes feelings of exploitation in my oh so righteous frame of mind. The fact that I’m typing this clothed in all manner of animal skin manifestations is neither here nor there. If I want to bemoan the exploitation of animals whilst encasing my feet in conditioned animal hide, then I will and hypocrisy be bollocksed. To me, it is a far more dignified outcome for an animal to have ended up as a pair of shoes then to have it be paraded around the arena sporting forty generations of inbreeding on its back.
But what is even more bewildering about this sport – and I use the term so loosely I can’t even touch the sides – is the fact that anyone wants to watch it. Competitions! Fucking people travel to watch this display of fucktwattery repeatedly over the course of a day.
What is it these people are expecting to witness? The scope of the possible routine elements is so ridiculously limiting as to render the whole exercise one of futile repetition. I haven’t watched much Dressage, given that the limited exposure that I have had to it has made me feel physically sick. But what I have seen appears to be very limited. It looks like the infant school sports day, like a pack of overly enthusiastic parents cheering on their children as they stand on one foot for an ill deserved certificate or ribbon.
It seems to involve the horse performing some exaggerated, unnatural looking prance around the arena, intermittently pulling some convoluted pose who’s only goal seems to be to combat millions of years of evolved perfection. An animals natural inclination to do anything derives from a perceived requirement from it’s environment. At no stage in a horses evolutionary lifecycle did it need the ability to cock it’s hoof to emulate the effects of being exposed to thalidomide.
And yet people flock to witness this spectacle. So much so that it is an Olympic event. An Olympic event. Utterly ridiculous. If, by some sort of freakish coincidence I had somehow won an Olympic medal in Dressage, not only would I refuse to accept it out of principal, but I would verbally abuse the presenter of said medal until they were weeping blood uncontrollably from their arse by way of a spontaneous defense mechanism. And then I would beat them to death with the medal. And then shoot their lifeless husk, and the horse that I rode on (on the grounds that it would be beyond redemption).
If it has to be an Olympic event, they should rename it Cuntage.
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