Imagine If Horses Stopped Shoveling Things

Max Banner

Max Banner

“I trusted a riding lawnmower once and it let me down!”

Ask an average voter about the biggest problems facing working horses today and they’re likely to say “sanitation,” “static cling” or even “the fear of being ridden by Tony Danza.” Ask a horse what his problems are and he’ll probably talk about the challenge of breaking into the international markets, or the horse two stalls down snoring too much. But horse shoveling industry insiders have known for a long time that the toughest issue is actually the decline in shoveling. “The numbers are down 14 percent this year alone,” one of them told me once. He was on break from his job at a Polynesian helmet factory at the time. One time I was standing there and he ran out of the building yelling about how he was quitting because he thought Polynesian helmets were invented to insult Cher and he wasn’t going to stand for it. The boss told him they were actually making safety gear for Polynesian ultimate fighters and then he calmed down.

This was good, because horse shoveling industry insiders have to spend at least two years doing something other than following the inner workings of the horse shoveling industry before they can become official insiders. Typically they go into making displays at the greeting card store, but Polynesian helmet making is a common choice, too. It’s to help them decide if they really like horse shoveling enough to be an insider. One guy spent his two years as a barista for a whaling boat and decided he wanted to return to horse shoveling industry, but ended up returning to the Amish by mistake. They had to send one of their kids to train as an insider to balance it all out.

As you can see, when the average voter and the horses and the horse shoveling experts don’t agree, it makes it hard to figure out who you can trust. After all, how do you know you can trust a horse shoveling industry expert? Or a horse? Or anything? I trusted a riding lawnmower once and it let me down! It wouldn’t run unless I was on it – without me it just kept running to one corner of the yard until the super had to shut it down and take it away. He probably took it to the emotionally dependent lawnmower support group at the hospital campus on Wednesdays. I accidentally walked in on one of their meetings once, when I was at the hospital late one night to switch out some blood in their lab with gravy. A weed-whacker was crying about how it was afraid of success. I swiped the sign-in sheet and sent it to the Nigerian embassy.

So to solve the whole issue, I brought a horse shoveling industry insider together with a voter and a horse and called a summit. “You can take turns mowing my lawn,” I said. “That’ll get you all working together, and it’ll get the super off my back.” The voter and the insider both looked around frantically for a lawnmower, but the horse just grabbed his shovel and started digging holes in the yard, which is I guess how horses mow the lawn. He and the super worked out a whole new landscape plan which improved water efficiency by at least half. This convinced the super that a decline in horse shoveling was the biggest problem. This made the insider happy but the horse got really mad and stopped shoveling. “You’re proving my point!” said the super. He and the insider started shoveling some more but the voter had taken a garden hose and started spraying everybody with it in a drunken rage. I forgot to mention that my summit was open bar.

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