Most of you are aware, I am sure, of the acclaimed excellence of my world-famous rack. When my magnificent horse-owning era dawns for me, however, I shall refrain from saddling any of my fillies with such names as "Miss Thirtyfour D."
The man can't live like this. That is the Thoroughbred-naming equivalent of heading down to Deck the Walls in the mall to pick up a quality print of "Dogs Playing Poker" for the State Dining Room of the White House. Does his agent just flick open the Daily Racing Form and go, "What undignified-named mount climb can I get him on today?"
Let's just go the full nine here and dig up some claimer named "Booger." (Owner: Dave Barry. Headline: "GARY STEVENS WINS TRIPLE CROWN ON DAVE BARRY'S BOOGER.") Kentucky Derbies are won by Man 'O War... Affirmed... Charismatic. Not "Puke And A Crack Pipe."
Since foals are usually christened with a nod to the sire and dam, I dug up Miss Hooters Billboard's pedigree to discover from whence her breastosity came.
And it comes from: Nowhere. Her father is the great Bertrando--through whom she is related to the even greater Native Dancer-- and her mother is named "Fine Fettle." So this poor lass is somebody's Victoria's Secret Semi-Annual Sale gone horribly, horribly wrong.
She is more mercifully named, however, then some of the horses I've seen at the local track, where I have watched, but absolutely not bet on, the following:
-Stinkey Pant's (sic, literally)
-Bushers Chad (that's... a porn alias if I ever heard one)
-Dimpled Ballot (and this one's not even a Florida-bred)
-Bongsilver (no, really)
-And "It's A Boy", who is-- wait for it-- a gelding.
January 8, 2004