Op-Ed: I May Be a Kentucky Derby Horse, but Please Just Call Me Robert

Look, I’m well aware of how this whole song and dance goes. Giving the Kentucky Derby's star athletes ridiculous names is all part of the marketing machine. But how would you feel if you dedicated every waking moment to a grueling regimen of gallops, sprints, and tremendously loud, spooky noises just for some rich prick to call you “Capital Expenditure” or “Zesty Kazoo”? 

I’ll skip the rest of the rigamarole and cut to the chase — I’m three years old, and I deserve respect, dammit. As such, I must ask you all to call me something dignified, like Robert. 

I know what you’re probably thinking, and no, winning won’t get me the basic decency I’m after. If anything, I’ll receive drastically less! Sure, I’d be greatly admired, but that just means humans trying to snatch my ejaculate left and right. And what, my strictly allotted apple per day is upgraded from a Fuji to a Cosmic Crisp? No deal!

Hollywood wants the world to think every first place pony gets to be like Secretariat, enjoying a storied career before dying of hoof disease at the ripe old age of 19. Hell, he even got to have his whole body buried! Every other Kentucky Derby champion is supposed to just shut up and be grateful their head is marginally less likely to end up as a prop in a mob movie. 

But I digress. Speaking of past winners, let’s take a look at how these rude, degrading naming practices are working out for some of my equine brethren: 

Rich Strike, 2022 — poor, non-unionized

Country House, 2019 — living in a Brooklyn apartment with four unemployed “artists” who haven’t paid their share of rent for months

Always Dreaming, 2017 — gave up

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll go through with the Kentucky Derby. Not just because I’m a colt of my whinny, but because all of those big hats are really scaring me and the confines of these gates feel like the safest place to be right now.  

But let me be crystal clear. It’s not “Magikal Atmosphere,” not “Rigatoni Overcome,” and certainly not some bitch-ass name like “Literature.” Please call me Robert. And I will be keeping my semen to myself, thank you very much. 

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Photo courtesy of sidknee23 courtesy of CC BY-NC-ND 2.0