A Guest Contribution

This comes to us via Horsey-mail from LaMonte. LaMonte, I hope you don't mind me posting your email, I'm assuming the story was to go with the photo. At any rate, I'm not quite sure what to say to this. I'll let our viewers decide:

Hiya Horsie!

LaMonte here. I have something kinda cute for ya - it's a picture that my daughter, Jade, made up in Photoshop (attached). Cute story to go along with it too.

So I had Jade (8) visiting with me this past weekend. I'm on a bit of a tight budget here, so I always have to come up with activities that don't cost much.

We were at a loss for something to do on Saturday afternoon, when a cool idea popped into my head. I said to her: "Hey sweetie - go and draw a really good picture of me with Horseonovich.....and I'll download the new PowerPuff Grrls movie off of Kazaa for you later."

About 90 minutes later, she showed me this picture. I told her that it was a very nice picture: she captured Daddy's poor posture and unkempt hair. Lit cigarette was a nice touch.

There were a few details that I didn't care for, so I said: "But honey......ummm......why did you draw the two of us holding hands? Men don't hold hands, dear."

Jade retorted: "Well, Uncle Ryan and Uncle Brad hold hands all the time."

"Yeah, we had a talk about that before, honey. Those guys are homos. And they're not even related to you - they're just your mother's idiot friends. Okay? Alright.....let's forget about that for moment. Ummmm......where is Horseonovich's neck? Where are his feet?"

The tears started welling up in her little eyes. She tried to say something but she was too choked up. This little emotional performance really, really pissed me off because I could clearly see her mother's influence at work. (Stacy had a habit of bursting into tears whenever she encountered even mild criticism from anybody. Oh, but get this - she would piss/bitch/moan about every little thing. If she couldn't find a reason to bitch, she would invent one. But then that's just one of life's peculiar ironies: people who are hypercritical are also hypersensitive to criticism.)

Jade was in full bawling-baby mode. She was so loud that even the asshole next door who routinely plays his hip-hop tunes at 7000 decibels was pounding on the walls. With her mouth wide open and eyes shut tightly, I popped a few Ritalyn down her throat. That solved the problem very quickly. I don't remember what happened after that.

And now that the worst is behind us, we can all laugh about it.

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Here is the attachment:

The Drawing