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An Apology and an Update!
YOU PROBABLY READ in the newspaper that my better half and I were called away unexpectedly last week to speak at a symposium on flair horseshoeing at HoofCon 2011. Demetrios and I decided it was the least we could do for our mentor, the legendary Frank “Hoofpick” Purdy after his beloved Mr. Magoo was spooked by Frank’s ringtone* and kicked the anvil, sending three red hot Capewell #5 bridle-path nails right into his mouth. Ol’ Hoofpick’s going to be fine – don’t worry, he managed to spit them right out – but it’s going to be another week and a half before the blistering and swelling on his tongue goes down enough to allow him to speak coherently. (Right now it sounds like he’s doing a bad impression of a deaf person, which of course is hilarious, but would likely begin to lose its appeal after fifteen minutes behind a lectern. Either that or it would just kill, and then who wants to follow that? It would be like having to go on right after Buddy Hackett tells his forehead-penis story.)
Considering it was me calling him that day, attending in his stead was the least we could do. As you know, Demetri and I had been staying away from the Con for the last few years after we submitted what we still feel should have been the winning suggestion for HoofCon 2008’s theme. (“Where the Shoes Are” – and Demetri knows Connie Francis’ manager so we’re sure we could have gotten her to attend and sing. I even wrote new lyrics to the song.) But oh no, convention chairhole Mark Lautraub went with the lame “Forging Our Future” which of course sucked. (Gee, a pun involving “forge” for a farrier’s convention – didn’t see that coming.) Since Lautraub dropped dead of a heart attack in April there was really no reason for us not to attend. And here of course I want to extend my deepest sympathies to his family. He was a great man. He was a great man.
Anyway, we quickly packed up our rasps, performance clinchers, our tearaway black leather smithing aprons (Thanks again to Jim at Custom Leather & Rubber Fabrication in Palm Desert!), pritchels (10″ and 12″), iron nippers, a fantastic collection of glow sticks (including colors you wouldn’t believe possible through chemiluminescence) and driving hammers (Anvils were thankfully provided this year – something the incompetent Lautraub was somehow never able to facilitate in his lifetime.) and headed to the airport. Demetri joked that getting through security was going to be harder than when we flew to Las Vegas in May for the fetish ball. I figured it might be smoother since I wasn’t wearing my ballgag on this trip; or at least a wash since we were carrying virtually all the same equipment.
…Now what was my point?
Oh, yes – first of all, the update: Say what you will against Walmart, but by Godfrey, their in-house brand, Equate, still offers rewetting drops in the generous 0.5 oz size. Sure, it’s not as much as what CVS used to sell, but it’s better than what those assholes at Target are selling now – and I got a two-pack (that’s 1.0 ounce!) for $4.35.
And an apology: The Ted Parsnips Web Design Team was supposed to run Ted Parsnips: The Best of the Early 90s in my absence, but as usual, I get back and see nothing’s done and the whole department looks like they had a weeklong pizza party / rubber band war. Hope they still have the number for Little Caesars handy, because once I check the balance in the petty cash till, there may be some nerds looking for new jobs.
*#1 Rule of Farriery, and it’s the first thing they teach you in school or as an apprentice: Leave your cell phone turned off, in the truck, on vibrate, or for God’ sake, never use ABBA as a ringtone. Christ, the piano swipe that opens “Dancing Queen” could startle a Budweiser Clydesdale, let alone a skittish 1,100 pound quarterhorse.
Ted Parsnips
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