Op/Ed – My family has been in central Virginia for decades. My father, Pavel Nekrasov, immigrated from St. Petersburg, Russia in the wake of the October Revolution. They bought a tract of land in neighboring Chesterfield County and immediately turned it into a horse farm. I know my horses. Been around ’em my whole life. And I’ve been seeing them slowly disappear from the city of Richmond for decades; there’s only one horse even left.
What I’m trying to say is this: Richmond is a one horse town. His name is Murderin’ Cobb. He’s killed all the other horses, and I think we’re next.
When I was a kid, everyone took the buggie everywhere. Pulled by two or more horses, they were. Everyone took them everywhere. And I was in the Great Depression, too. A lot of us couldn’t afford to have automobiles. But by the 1950s, there just seemed to be less horses in Richmond. It just didn’t make no sense. Have you ever met Murderin’ Cobb at the Richmond zoo? I mean, if you’re going to give a horse a name like that, well, you’ve just gone and created a self-fulfilling prophecy. And I normally wouldn’t say this in polite company, but that horse has the stone cold dead eyes of a killer.
Are you familiar with Occam’s Razor? It states, in succinct terms, that the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one. My children tell me it’s something about technology and improved access to transportation and automobiles, but I say baldurdash. They’re just a bunch of “The Island of Doctor Moreau” by H. G. Wells sheep-human hybrid mongrels in the middle of a terrific bout of narcolepsy, because those sheeple need to wake the hell up.
What’s with the horse-on-horse crime? Soon there’s not going to be any horses left. Just the people. And then what?
I recently cornered our mayor, Levar Marcus Stoney, doing some sort of charity thing at John Marshall High School. I patiently raised my hand and demanded answers about Murderin’ Cobb killing all the horses in Richmond. And do you know what he said, after a length pause, probably to cover this up?
“There is no evidence to suggest that the horses in Richmond have been systematically murdered by this Murderin’ Cobb.”
Another local piped up. “The rest of the horses just came down with equine influenza. They’ve been quarantined until their conditions improve.”
I was then escorted off the premises by his government spooks. Sinister laughter from the crowd followed me out. Somebody jeered that I got a “neigh plus” for effort.
It’s so obvious. They were all in on it.
As per my God-given Constitutional 2nd amendment right, I will be heading a militia to take down Murderin’ Cobb. The government ain’t gonna do a thing. We will meet next Tuesday evening at my house, and my wife, Gladys, will be serving tea and coffee and some little appetizer-y things. Probably some bacon wrapped apricots and those little cocktail weiners wrapped in the- what do you call it? I want to say it’s almost like the Pillsbury Dough, but not quite.
And then, we shall have peace.