2005-09-22 - 1:53 p.m.

It�s 1983 and I�m sitting in the back of my parents� pearl mint green Chevy station wagon wondering, at ten years old, what could possibly be wrong with the WHITE horse. Not that I was a frequent riding stable patron, but should I happen to be presented with the opportunity to go horseback riding, why would I not want to ride the white one? The song really offered no explanation either. Just a concise warning � over, and over, and over and over and over again accompanied by an orchestra of drum machines and synthesizers. And then about midway through the song they completely change the subject altogether and I learn that if I want to be rich, I�ve got to be a bitch. Okay. Sounds easy enough, I thought to myself and vowed to really work on that one. (All of those years that my parents / siblings / and friends thought I was being obstinate and malevolent for no reason!) Toward the end of the song I�m told that if I want to ride that I should ride the white PONY. Pony??? Ponies are for little kids. And still having not heard any reasonable details on the white horse�s problem(s) I decided that it would be more than quite possible that you would see me galloping through the paddock on the back of the white horse �- should the opportunity ever introduce itself.

the past - the future

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