Of course, of course

Good morning, homepeople of the internets, and welcome to UOPTA. No, that doesn't stand for "Underwear Occasionally Parts The Ass," but that's a sad reality that we all must face from time to time. (Thanks to my dad for supplying today's UOPTA - email ptklein@gmail.com to get your own in here.) Instead, this is the place in which I write my thoughts and tell my stories. If you're ready for that, then sit back and try to enjoy.

Today's theme can be summed up in one neat little word: horse. There's a lot to say about that topic, and I'll try to go through this chronologically. As a child, I was most familiar with that word in its basketball form. Yes, I'd play Horse fairly often in the backyard of my parents' old house and the front yard of their current one. I was a decent shooter, but that game really comes down to exploiting strengths and weaknesses. For me, my weaknesses were glaring. Specifically, any time someone did a shot with his or her off hand (usually left), I'd have to do the same with my off hand (my right). That's a problem, because as I've likely said in this space before, my right hand is largely for show and has very few real purposes. I'm a lefty through and through, so even two-foot bank shots with my right hand were likely to yield a letter for me. On the flip side, I'd use my leftiness to my advantage when I could. That typically meant looking for an angle that would be difficult for me to bank in a shot but much more so for a righty. I liked this plan, but that usually gave my opponent the idea to do the exact same thing on the opposite side. When all else failed, I'd go to my only trick shot. I got pretty good at doing this one layup where I'd move the ball behind my back and then through one leg before shooting (without travelling, mind you). That, like the lefty bank shot, was good to pull out the first time I'd be playing against someone, but not much of a surprise in subsequent games. What's the point of all of this? I'm not sure, but I think I'm trying to establish that I had a good relationship with the word "horse" at an early age. If I accomplished that goal, then you may proceed to the next paragraph.

The next big Horse chapter of my life came at sleepaway camp. During the weeklong stays, those who signed up ahead of time would take a nice leisurely horse ride around the area. I only remember a few things from those rides, but they make me smile so I'll share. First, I remember that the horses there seemed to be named for old Jewish men. My first two times, I had Bernie as my horse. Either Adam or Jason N. had Maury, and I'm pretty sure there was a Saul or something similar in the stable as well. I got Bernie because they asked me my experience level. I said I was pretty new to horseback riding, and they immediately signaled for Bernie. He seemed a little older than the rest to me, but I had no real way of telling that. The ride was fun, pretty, and relaxing. We trotted a little at one point, and while that hurt my ass a little, it was still a highlight of the trip. I think Bernie was a little slower than the others, but I didn't mind.

A few weeks later, I went to that camp again and signed up for horseback riding again. When the man asked about my experience, I said, "I had Bernie last time," which was all he needed to hear apparently. I got on Bernie again and had almost the same exact ride as the time before. I didn't need exhilaration; this was nice and peaceful, and I patted his side often and told him he was doing a good job. A few weeks later, I was back again. "I had Bernie last time," I said. "Oh, Bernie's not here anymore," the cowboy-looking dude told me. "He's retired now." Even though I was only about 12 at the time, I immediately took that to mean that he'd gone to the big pasture in the sky. I may have been wrong, but when I told my mom that he'd "retired," she had the same initial reaction (except the term "glue factory" may have come up in her response). So I rode a different horse that time (Moishe? Shlomo?) and the several times after that, and they was a little faster and more fun than my first two rides. Bernie broke me in well, and I hope he had a nice, peaceful retirement.

Next up for Peter's world of horse: the Kentucky Derby happened recently. My homey Rockabye texted me to ask what I'd name a racehorse if I had one. I wrote back immediately: "Dust As In Eat My. I've thought about this before." I think the name by itself is decent, but it gets a lot better when I imagine it being said about ten times in thirty seconds by someone calling a race. I'd like to go with "Piss Like a Me," but the governing board would probably never allow that. Speaking of which, my friend Greg (aka The Pigh) has a funny story about a horse and his name. I'll let him tell it:

My first real job was in television. I worked for the production department of TVG, America's horse racing network. I came across quite a few colorful characters during my short time in the horse racing industry. One such character was successful owner, Mike Pegram. Pegram is probably best known for his friendship with hall-of-fame trainer Bob Baffert and coming within a nose of winning the Triple Crown in 1998. For guys like me (and Peter), Pegram will always be known as the guy who pushed the envelope in naming his horses.

Unusual names for race horses are the norm. Just take a look at the top three finishers in this year's Kentucky Derby: 1) Mine That Bird; 2) Pioneerof the Nile; and 3) Musket Man. You may be asking yourself, what the fuck? What are these people thinking? Is there any limit to how stupid the names can be. Well, sort of. There is actually a guy who monitors every potential name before it becomes official. Mainly he checks to make sure the name isn't already taken, that it's not too many characters, and that it is not obscene or otherwise inappropriate.

That's where my boy MP comes in. One of our reporters did a story on his exploits. Here are some MP names that got rejected: Big Bone Lick, Liquor in Excess, Button my Pants, and my favorite, High Hard One. He was definitely able to sneak quite a few good ones past the name monitor though. I suppose if you fire off enough offensive names, an over-the-top blatantly offensive name like Isitingood is bound to slip through the cracks (so to speak). And I suppose not everyone knows that the Silverbullet is a reference to Coors Light, so not everyone would know that Silverbulletday is a reference to drinking beer all day.

However, the sheer genius of this next one is undeniable. MP resorted to the old "let's submit a dirty name that sounds like it could mean something in Arabic" trick. When asked how "Ibnshiton" made it past his team, the name monitor said, "That just means son of the devil." Well, Ibn Shaitan does mean "son of the devil" in Arabic, but Ibnshiton, just means "I've been shit on" in broken English. Brilliant!!! The best was listening to a race call with Ibnshiton in the field. One particular announcer was on to the game and refused to actually say it. Instead he alternated between "I be shy the one" and "I be in Chi Town." Horse racing is cool.

Thank you, Pighlet. I've loved saying "I be shy the one" for years now, and hopefully it will catch on amongst my 10-12 regular readers.

Lastly for this section, for reasons unknown, I had "She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain" in my head earlier this week. It was really annoying, and I hope my mentioning it here doesn't bring the same fate upon you. As the song played on in my head, something caught my inner ear: How can one ride six white horses? The song doesn't say that she'll be in a cart pulled by six horses. Nay (neigh?), it says specifically that she'll be riding them. I just don't see how that's possible. (And why do we assume that she'll want to eat chicken and dumplings when she comes? Maybe she had a big lunch and just wants a salad. I'm just sayin'.)

And with that, let's guide our reins on over to the Car Watch.

I saw plate this week that said, "UBIGNUT." To be honest, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended.

My homey Rockabye saw a plate that confuses me quite a bit. "(Heart)2GRIEV," it read. Really? Who in the world loves to grieve? I bet even folks who own funeral parlors don't enjoy the amount of grieving that goes on around them on a daily basis. That plate disturbs me, and I keep re-reading it to see if there's an alternate meaning that I'm missing. Am I?

Last but not least, that same homey Rockabye provided me with a plate that allows me to extend today's theme into the Car Watch section: "4MRS ED." While I doubt that this car was purchased for the wife of the famed talking equine, it does pose an interesting question. If a horse were to drive a car, would you need to add an extra figure to the horsepower? I realize it would only be by one, but it's worth asking, don't you think? (No, actually, now that I think about it for more than two seconds. The horsepower figure referring to the engine would remain the same because the driving horse would only use its power to push the accelerator and brake, right? Now where's that pesky backspace key?)

That's all folks. First, let's get some happies out there. Happy 0th birthday yesterday to little Lindsey. Congratulations to new parents Rob and Robin, and we look forward to meeting her soon. Tomorrow is our good friend Lisa's birthday, so big ups to her. Sunday is my friend Suzanne's half-birthday, and Tuesday marks a whopping 13.5 years since my lovely wife and I started dating. Wow, that's a big number. Take care, everyone, and please remember to email ptklein@gmail.com with anything you please. Go Lakers and shaloha to one and all.