The Thrill is pleased to introduce a new, one-of-equine occasional contributor: Seabiscuit. Standing at about 15 hands tall (approximately 5 feet at the shoulder), Da biscuit, as some refer to him, was a notable Thoroughbred racehorse who helped America to “horse around” during the years of the Great Depression. Laura Hillenbrand ’89 wrote a book entitled Seabiscuit: An American Legend about the valiant stallion who was, in fact, not owned by an Italian.
Hey, you, hey, yep, scratch my ass please. Yep right above the tail. No left. Down. Right. THAT is my butt hole, please move. Oh we’re on? We’re on. Got it.
As many of you know, I am a superstar. So, Hillenbrand (who does not have a brand, disappointing? Yay or neigh?) decided to eternalize my story because I am a legend, and all of the people I had street cred with are pretty much dead. One note about my book–I’ve been told there was a lot of racy sex. Well, you know, I certainly got the racy shit down, but they really held out with the sex. Night-mares amiright? At least they didn’t lob my balls off. I guess? Whatever. Here’s the whole Unbroken story.
You know, I have to say, right out of the goddamned starting gate, I can relate to the main character, Louie. He steals food, runs like hell on the track, and has dreams of busting out of town on a train. Sounds like me, me and, oh wait, me? So then Louie enlists to fight in The Second World War, in which he flies a plane called Super Man. Superman had a red headed girlfriend. My jockey was red-headed. Coincidence? I think–hold on–PUMPKIN. YO. PUMPKIN. Pumpkin’s my side bitch. Where’s my peppamints. Don’t bring me spearmint again or imma have to shake down the human for pocket food, and I already projectile sneezed on her when she was two inches from my face.
So the plane goes down and, sweet naked Jesus! Who brought a dog with an umbrella into the building? You tryna kill me man? Jesus. Hey, by the way, what if I was actually a biscuit in the sea. Ever thought about that? Of course you have, you inferior primate.
Right, besides that, the rest of the story gets pretty sad around the backstretch. So read it yourself, because I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. Grrrrhmmmm. WHOO. The feeling of a satisfying poop. Right, so I’m going to take a nap now, and you’re going to question why you read an article by a horse. Seabiscuit, ouuuttt. Happy tails, yo.