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I've wrote about my love for the Derby here and here and here. I've always said I watch it with one eye open and one eye closed. I am opposed to greyhound racing, why shouldn't I be opposed to horse racing? Especially when the Derby is known as a grueling race to begin. Especially for a 3-year old.
I even wrote this diddy before last Friday:
This post brought to you by tampons.
If a female can bust through the sunroof ceiling and win an Indy car race,
then a little girl by the name of Eight Belles can run with the big boys in the
Derby.
A filly surround by 19 boys. Well nuzzle me jealous.
And like the little girl who gets the head start on the race track, this
filly will get a five pound weight allowance. A girl's got to maintain her figure after all. To run with the boys, you don't have to be one of the boys.
So stuff your bra, wiggle your butt to and fro, giggle coyly, and use your
sexuality. That's your advantage.
Besides, a black cat crossed Smooth Air's path so I know I am not picking him.
I went in with the feminist vote, I am going out with the animal rights vote.
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