Thursday, August 02, 2007

Everything I really need to know, I learned at the racetrack

KM and I enjoyed our annual father-daughter outing to the races at the Sonoma County fairgrounds today. Now that she's 18, I take it as an honor that KM still consents to go anywhere in public with me. But, given her singular obsession with all things equine, she'd never miss an opportunity to spend an afternoon admiring an endless parade of well-kept horses, even if it means hanging out for several hours with the old man.

Going to the track is always an educational experience. Permit me to share with you some of the life lessons I gleaned from today's excursion.
  • In between races, the track should perform a valuable public service by airing episodes of What Not to Wear.

  • A fish taco is a welcome taste treat in any surroundings.

  • Russell Baze is one of the greatest athletes of our time. He seems like a nice fellow, too.

  • Everyone is an expert at the racetrack. Often, the greater one's handicapping expertise, the fewer one's teeth.

  • The produce man from our supermarket is stalking me. I see him everywhere.

  • Operating a parimutuel betting window must be one of the suckiest jobs on the planet.

  • I could never be a track announcer, because (a) I'd get the names of the horses confused, and (b) I can't talk anywhere near that fast.

  • There really ought to be a law against micro-miniskirts on women within shouting distance of menopause. Or maybe just on women, period.

  • Describing gelded horses as "chopped off" is probably not the most effective means of communicating certain facts of animal husbandry to one's children.

  • Every time I see a jockey, I want to buy him a sandwich.

  • People who wouldn't dream on shoving their hands into a recently used toilet have little compunction about reaching out to capture droplets of the waste water being used to dampen the racing surface, even though it's pretty much the same thing.

  • The gray horse never wins. Except in the sixth race at Santa Rosa.

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