on eating horse

The city of Elizabeth, New Jersey, United States, recently secured state funding to construct a processing plant for horse-meat. A lean, tender, and slightly sweet meat, the plant plans to ship its culinary delicacies to populations in the greater New York metropolitan area whose cultures and traditions embrace it. Although the use of horses for food is illegal in several U.S. states, Edible Equine Holdings Ltd., which will operate the plant, says that it’s time opinions changed. “There’s no rational reason to eat cows and goats but not horses,” according to a company press release. The plant’s slaughtering facility will receive shipments of horses from farms in Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland, and New York.

“In 732 C.E., Pope Gregory III banned the eating of horses in an effort to stamp out Germanic pagan ceremonies,” said food scientist Dr. Shiu Wen Ha of the American School of Gastronomy and Culinary Design, in Wanborough, Connecticut. “Now, in the year 2017, in the USA, it’s time to set aside Early Medieval notions and embrace the consumption of flesh from all animals.”

Priestesses of Epona, a horse goddess of ancient Europe, could not be reached for comment, as they no longer exist.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

on taxing horses

In keeping with efforts to make up for taxes that are no longer being collected due to technological innovation, the U.S. Congress is debating a novel solution. Colloquially known as Horse Obsolescence Recovery Sequester Enactment, or H.O.R.S.E., HR-23.9947 (F) will require motor-vehicle-owners to pay a tax on each ‘horse’ of ‘horsepower’ their car or truck can muster.

“Not that long ago,” said Thorsten Hilddebrandt, congressman from New York (D), “one would have needed to employ scores of groomsmen and stable-boys to keep two hundred horses healthy, strong, and ready to go at a moment’s notice. With modern automobiles, however, all of those jobs and tax revenues vanish.” An apparently bipartisan issue, H.O.R.S.E. seems to be gaining traction on both sides of the aisle. “The tax burden must fall equally, no matter if people choose to drive a car or ride a horse,” said Barbara D. Geirhoff-Ferd, a Republican congresswoman from Florida. “Taking care of horses was a good, taxable job for many unskilled and lower-class individuals. America can no longer afford to let people who drive cars not shoulder their fair share of society’s burdens.”

Unsubstantiated rumors indicate that laws will soon be passed to steeply tax a wide array of cell-phone applications that take taxable jobs away from human calculators, map-makers, telephone-switchboard personnel, camera operators, board-game makers, notepad and pencil manufacturers, FM radio broadcasters, astronomers, filmmakers, and many others.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑

Zampyut the Sad

The young wife of King Zampyut the Wise had died during childbirth, and he was lonely. His other, grown children were off at different royal courts conducting business and forming alliances; his subjects were happy, housed, and well-provisioned; and the courtier who had been his most outspoken critic had been mistaken for a stag recently, and shot. Not only was the king lonely, he was also bored. His foul mood lifted and great joy flooded his heart upon hearing that a maiden had been spotted in the far reaches of the realm whose beauty outshone that of all others. “Bring her to me,” the king commanded to Thoraei, head of his security detail. “But be gentle, lest her fairness be ruined.” At once the man set to his given task, riding out forthwith and questioning many peasants as to the whereabouts of the mysterious maiden.

Having tracked her down in a hamlet nestled in the dizzying heights of the towering Yiptlong massif, Thoraei had her placed in a carriage and escorted back to the gilded halls of his king. “To where are you taking me?” the maiden asked, to no avail; awed by her radiant loveliness, the men of her escort were unable to look at her, let alone respond. ”The rumors were true,” King Zampyut said with tears running down his cheeks as he greeted the maiden at the outer boundary marker of his capital city. “Please, child, tell me your name.” “Vrida,” the maiden said, her dark hair and fair skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. Without another word, the king dismounted, helped Vrida from her carriage, and asked for her hand in marriage, right there in the dusty road. A wedding! What joy, the commoners said, what good fortune that our king has found a new queen so quickly.

Vrida, however, who had grown up chasing horses and eating wild onions in lush high valleys, began to curse her lot. 'Here I sit,' she thought, 'trapped in a stone tower in a strange city being dressed and poked at by foolish and soft-handed women, and all I want to do is run once more with my ponies.' “What do you desire, my Queen-soon-to-be?” said Zampyut upon composing himself after having seen her the next morning. “I wish only to go home, my King, and live the life of any other high-valley maiden; I miss my horses.” “I shall have your horses brought here. Would that make you smile?” “Please do not, my King – it would kill them to leave their home, just as it is killing me.” At this the King rose up angrily, making many threats and even kicking at a young errand boy who strayed within his reach. “Now that your sadness is known to me, it tarnishes my image of your beauty. As your King, I command you to be happy.” “Please, oh wise sovereign, let me leave again, and return to my family,” Vrida said. “No,” the reply; “you are mine, and shall stay mine.” That night, with a last long look at the cluster of stars to which she as a child would tell her darkest secrets, the beautiful maiden flung herself from her tower window onto the rocks below. Not only was the King lonely once more, his desolation was now saturated with sadness.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

coat armor, Grigovia (rough draft)